For some reason this week has lasted forever. And I am in serious need of some grownup fun. Not that kind of grownup fun (well, maybe a little of that), but just some fun with other grownup people who don't slobber, spitup and cry. I guess I'll be staying out of the bars this weekend if I'm trying to avoid that, huh.
I so love my job. There were a few days at the beginning of the week that I wondered how many of my parents would shoot me if I quit, but that was a fleeting moment. (Quit panicking, parents, it really was fleeting.) I know I've mentioned before that the thought of getting a job that requires me to wear something other than track pants or jeans makes me hyperventilate. So while I was sitting in my toyroom floor, surrounded by crying, whining children (my own included) I was thinking "Maybe a job wouldn't be so bad after all", but then CBG crawled over to me. I naturally picked her up and she grabbed handfuls of hair on both sides of my head and pulled me to her open, toothless mouth and gave me what I'm assuming was a kiss. Oh yeah, that was good.
And today, CLB saw me move from the chair to the floor and the look that came over his face was one of utter glee. It's not too often in life that you can use the word "glee" and not be writing poetry about a tree, but seriously, his look was gleeful. He then proceded to attack me. He was wallering me and giggling when suddenly he stopped, looked serious and then tried to lift up his shirt. We had been finding belly buttons just yesterday and he obviously found it amusing enough to continue it today. Too bad he has on overalls. I thought his brain was going to explode trying to find his poor belly button.
Baby Divinity had been fussing in his swing when he woke up from a snooze. He was lying there, kicking and had his little fists balled up and was on the verge of an all-out scream fest, when I walked over to him. He honestly looked up at me, took a deep breath, relaxed and broke out in this kick-ass grin that would melt an iceburg.
Kady, Chandler and I made up a new game yesterday - SnotBall. The basic rules of play are: Throw balls at and attempt to knock the snot out of your opponent. It's kind of a twisted preschool version of dodgeball. The three of us were so tickled at one point that the ball was just sitting in the middle of us and no one could stop laughing to even go for the ball. When Jill came to pick up Chan I said, "Oh tell Momma about the new game we made up today!" She said, "A new game? What's it called?" He was jumping up and down when he replied, "Throw The Ball At Chandler's Head!" The look she gave me was a mixture of confusion and worry. I can see where she might have some concern. I assured her that Kady and I had our fair share of head shots throughout the game as well. She still looked skeptical.
I commented on Hillbilly Mom's post about the husband who is on strike. I won't link his blog because out of principle alone I'm avoiding that, but I think you can get the link from her if you feel inclined. I commented that men are pretty predictable. And really they are. You have to admit that. Pretty much food, beer and poonanny keep them entertained. Or in the case of Mr. Diva throw a few slot machines his way to sweeten the deal and ensure success. But women . . . oh we women are complicated aren't we? Good gosh, if I were a man I'm not sure I'd want to date one of us. My friend Trishia and I used to say we were going to form a commune of just women and we could all live in peace and harmony with no men to ruin anything. We would say that on particularly bad redneck husband days. But now that I am branching out a bit in my social aspirations, I'm finding that women are sometimes well . . . bitches. And I'm wholeheartedly putting myself in that category, so please don't send me hate mail. Now I know that if were to form that all-woman commune that there would be a murder at least every other day.
Seriously, though, do y'all not agree that women are confusing as hell?
Just this week I have been pretty much blindsided by two women friends who, when put into a position of what should've been amicable discussion, I thought would react one way and reacted the completely opposite way, with neither incident having particularly pleasant outcomes. After the first one, I thought, "Okay, let it ride. It's all good. It'll be okay." But when incident #2 happened I was ready to nail a 2x4 to my head. Maybe it's me, maybe it's just the unfortunate timing of both, maybe Venus is in retrograde. All I know is, well . . . I know I want a stiff drink. Right. Now.
Or maybe I can wait till tomorrow night when we and three other couples go out. Or stay in. It hasn't been decided officially what we're going to do - either we'll stay in, get drunk and play cards or we're going to dinner and to see the Larry the Cable Guy movie.
And on that subject . . . That right there is one romantic grownup date, huh? I'm a big fan of ol' Larry, but if I weren't married to the man that is insistent upon taking me to this movie, I would not be putting out in the backseat of his truck at the end of the night. Not that I'm going to put out tomorrow night either, and certainly not in the backseat of the truck. I need room for sex now. Serious space - not like when we could have hour-long sex in the car (A Chevy Cavalier, mind you) with the gear shift poking into your back, your foot continually turning the volume up and down on the radio and someone's ass invariably honking the horn. Nope. I need a dadgum queen sized bed for sex now. Occasionally the couch, but that's only on holidays and every other new episode of Conviction.
I am having trouble focusing on one subject today, could you tell?
I bought a scale last Sunday. So Monday morning before I got into the shower I weighed. Butt naked and hungry. It's so hard to resist weighing every time I go pee now. It's just sitting there in the bathroom floor, begging me to step on it and just see. To just have a little peek to see if I've lost any weight. I was going to wait till Monday morning again to make it an official whole entire week, but I caved this morning. After the female bickering I've endured I needed a boost. Oh dear Lord I at least hoped I'd get a boost . . . I stepped on the scale again, naked and hungry, with my eyes closed. . . then opened them . . .
THREE POUNDS, PEOPLE!!
I
HAVE
LOST
THREE
POUNDS in five days.
And for the first time in my entire life's dieting history, I didn't feel the urge to celebrate with a package of Oreos. That right there was monumental.
Then waiting in my inbox this morning was an email from fellow Okie, Aka Monty and I was so humbled and ecstatic and even THEN I still didn't want to celebrate with a package of Oreos.
I'm so proud of me.
(Thanks, Aka Monty, btw. You'll never know how you made my day.)
Friday, March 31, 2006
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Really nothing to say
Seriously. I really have nothing to say. But I'm here at the computer paying bills and well, that is just really no fun at all, so I ran to my blog for refuge. How sad am I?
It's supposed to storm today. WAHOO!! Tater and I love love love a good storm. In fact, this time of year we are both continually in a state of anticipation at the storms that pop up. We are both storm fiends and there is nothing like a good run for the safe room or cellar to get your heart a pumpin'.
We are the stereotype - when the sirens go off, we go to the yard before we run for the cellar. We are just that crazy.
In May 2003 I was working at the Little League ballfield, running the concession stand. I called several Important People and they said that yeah, the games were on, even though looking at the sky I wasn't sure they'd actually happen. So I took the kids to Mom's and went to the field. I started the popcorn like I always did, started icing down the pop coolers when I heard the rain start. Then the metal roof sounded like it was coming off. I wanted to shout, "Hit the dirt, men! We're under fire!" It was hail. And it started off loudly enough on the metal roof, but it kept getting louder and louder. Umpires came running to my stand and I gave them refuge from the storm. We all stood in the doorway and watched the baseball sized hailstones hit my van repeatedly. With each rock of ice that bounced off my van I was regretting that decision to carry only liability on my van.
The hail finally quit and the Important People declared the games off. (Duh) I gave away what popcorn I could to the umps, dumped the rest, locked up and made a run for my dented van in the torrential rain that was still coming down. Soaked to the underoos, I drove to Mom's to retrieve my children. Mom got some nickle sized hail at her house while I felt like I was undergoing a plague that would rival anything God put upon the Egyptians back in the day. We stood out in Mom's driveway inspecting the damage. I mean, it's an Astro Van, it ain't no Caddy, but still it's my Astro Van and it has to last me, ya know? We checked the roof, the hood ... yep dents. But no big.
A few days later we stood on our own front porch and watched more baseball to softball sized hailstones hit my van again and this time Paul's Chevy that I'm still in love with even though he sold it. (*sigh* Man, I loved that truck.) This time we didn't fare so well - the back glass shattered in his truck, although no body damage was found. And my van? Oh I still, to this day, have a crack about the size of a kickball on the front windshield. It's the first circle-shaped crack I've ever seen. I guess we keep it there for a conversation starter, because we've not once really entertained a serious thought about replacing the windshield.
We saved some of those hailstones in the freezer for a few weeks because no one believed us when we told them how big they were. So we'd relate the story, people would say, "Oh you're kiddin' me!" and we'd say "No! Look here!" and run to the freezer to show 'em off. Because we're strange that way.
Wow, that was a really boring story about hailstones.
I hear thunder now, though, so I'm going to pay one more bill then shut down the computer and go play blocks with the kids while wearing an Army hat and a feather boa. Because I can.
It's supposed to storm today. WAHOO!! Tater and I love love love a good storm. In fact, this time of year we are both continually in a state of anticipation at the storms that pop up. We are both storm fiends and there is nothing like a good run for the safe room or cellar to get your heart a pumpin'.
We are the stereotype - when the sirens go off, we go to the yard before we run for the cellar. We are just that crazy.
In May 2003 I was working at the Little League ballfield, running the concession stand. I called several Important People and they said that yeah, the games were on, even though looking at the sky I wasn't sure they'd actually happen. So I took the kids to Mom's and went to the field. I started the popcorn like I always did, started icing down the pop coolers when I heard the rain start. Then the metal roof sounded like it was coming off. I wanted to shout, "Hit the dirt, men! We're under fire!" It was hail. And it started off loudly enough on the metal roof, but it kept getting louder and louder. Umpires came running to my stand and I gave them refuge from the storm. We all stood in the doorway and watched the baseball sized hailstones hit my van repeatedly. With each rock of ice that bounced off my van I was regretting that decision to carry only liability on my van.
The hail finally quit and the Important People declared the games off. (Duh) I gave away what popcorn I could to the umps, dumped the rest, locked up and made a run for my dented van in the torrential rain that was still coming down. Soaked to the underoos, I drove to Mom's to retrieve my children. Mom got some nickle sized hail at her house while I felt like I was undergoing a plague that would rival anything God put upon the Egyptians back in the day. We stood out in Mom's driveway inspecting the damage. I mean, it's an Astro Van, it ain't no Caddy, but still it's my Astro Van and it has to last me, ya know? We checked the roof, the hood ... yep dents. But no big.
A few days later we stood on our own front porch and watched more baseball to softball sized hailstones hit my van again and this time Paul's Chevy that I'm still in love with even though he sold it. (*sigh* Man, I loved that truck.) This time we didn't fare so well - the back glass shattered in his truck, although no body damage was found. And my van? Oh I still, to this day, have a crack about the size of a kickball on the front windshield. It's the first circle-shaped crack I've ever seen. I guess we keep it there for a conversation starter, because we've not once really entertained a serious thought about replacing the windshield.
We saved some of those hailstones in the freezer for a few weeks because no one believed us when we told them how big they were. So we'd relate the story, people would say, "Oh you're kiddin' me!" and we'd say "No! Look here!" and run to the freezer to show 'em off. Because we're strange that way.
Wow, that was a really boring story about hailstones.
I hear thunder now, though, so I'm going to pay one more bill then shut down the computer and go play blocks with the kids while wearing an Army hat and a feather boa. Because I can.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Over the counter drunk
That Tylenol Sore Throat stuff with "Cool Burst" is some serious shit. I bought some for Mr. Diva awhile back on the advice of Magnet Lady. She said it really helped. He said it did, too. So I gave it to Abby awhile back when she had a sore throat. It helped her, too. I am an easy gagger at certain textures (mainly thick and globby - like globs of butter and jelly or the chocolate goop that ends up in the bottom of your glass of chocolate milk which chocolate is the only way I can drink milk because of the texture, but that goop in the bottom of the glass ... *gag*) and therefore I don't take liquid medication unless I absolutely have to. But last night my throat hurt so bad that I wanted to cry (which would've made it hurt worse so I avoided that) so I took some. It was like doing a shot of some nasty spearminty syrup and while I'm usually no wimp when it comes to shots, this one had me standing over the sink holding back a retch. I went immediately to bed after taking it, so I had no idea the effect it would have on me.
This morning at 6:30, I took another shot of it. Holy Gummi Mary, I'm drunk!! To those of you who have children in my care, don't worry - the children are all safely duct taped to the floor and are enjoying the Cheerios I occasionally throw at them when I emerge momentarily from my drunken stupor.
This morning at 6:30, I took another shot of it. Holy Gummi Mary, I'm drunk!! To those of you who have children in my care, don't worry - the children are all safely duct taped to the floor and are enjoying the Cheerios I occasionally throw at them when I emerge momentarily from my drunken stupor.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
It's Googlicious!
I'm cold and my throat hurts, so rather than go to bed and get some rest, I'm checking my stats. I know, I know.....
Here are some recent keyword searches that landed folks here:
"stinky crotch fishy women" - I am so disturbed by the fact that someone specifically searched for this. I'm even more disturbed that I showed up in the search.
"what is the name of the charmin bear that is best known for the cha-cha-cha charmin butt-wiggle dance" - He has a name? He can't just be the Charmin Bear? Maybe his name is Whipple Bear because maybe he's Mr. Whipple reincarnated. I dunno. The name of the butt-wiggling bear has never been a major source of concern and mystery for me.
"teacher let the bulls out" - Yes, but did she let them back in when the sun went down? Because you know, we have a bit of a skunk problem. I wouldn't want to be out wanderin' my place right now.
www.drawings of spongebob on drugs.com - Ohhh, SpongeBob, WHY??? SpongeBob is just too darn innocent for drugs. Drugs kill, people. Why would an innocent sea creature need drugs when he can sing the C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E-S-O-N-G Song? (Which is my new favorite song, btw) Poor SpongeBob.
"photoblog jockstrap underwear" - I'm going to be really honest when I say that not only have I never photoblogged jockstrap underwear, but I've never even seen a jock strap in real life. There was a brief moment when I panickedly (New word - 100 points for me!) thought Sam was going to need one, but thankfully his daddy said it wasn't necessary. I didn't ask why it wasn't necessary, I was just glad I didn't have to go buy one.
"redneck junk" - It's all in my redneck trunk.
"redneck house of the week" - It's akin to a regular person winning an award from House Beautiful if you get picked for the Redneck House of the Week awards. Of course, mostly trailer houses win, but occasionally a home without wheels will get it.
-----------------------------
Kristin loves Craig. And apparently I have a website about it, too.
Kristin needs to wash her socks. Well, as a matter of fact, I have had them on since 6am...
Kristin wants A Shuga Daddy. Ooh yes, I love candy!!
Kristin loves Ryan. This is from some American Idol site. But Seacrest just ain't my thang, no matter what the internet says.
Kristin needs to add chlorine to the water. Okay, now that's just because someone saw the search for stinky crotch fishy women. Come on in, the water's fine. Really.
Kristin wants your input for the Tator Tops Nominations. Nobody can top my Tater! So you can input all you want, my TaterSis wins.
Kristin loves 'Cool Money. Yes I do. I love cool money much better than those warm checks I've written once or twice in my life.
Kristin needs monthly prayer and financial support. To support my gambling habit.
Kristin wants to meet 11 people. So instead of The Five People You Meet in Heaven, I get 11? I always did like to do things up big.
Kristin loves KENT KRISTIN LOVES JUSTIN KRISTIN LOVES BEN KRISTIN LOVES NAT. KRISTIN LOVES THOMAS KRISTIN LOVES ANDREW KRISTIN LOVES CHRIS I just wanna be loved. Is that so wrong?
Kristin needs to step up to Da Man who will spin her like a record! Oh hizzell to the yeah, biatch.
Kristin wants to run away and hide. But dammit, my kids are really good at Hide n Seek.
Kristin loves her kids. Kristin loves me too. Yes I do, my little schnookum boogums.
Kristin needs some photos of persons who have been executed. Because I'm mentally disturbed? WHO THE HELL NEEDS PICTURES LIKE THAT???? Riddle me that, Batman.
Kristin wants that support. But I usually have to go to Lane Bryant to get it.
Kristin loves dirt. Now, ya know, that might seem to be true because of all of the dust in my house, but truthfully I'm not a big fan.
Kristin needs volunteers for grilling. Because I'm obviously related to Hannibal Lechter if I'm grilling the volunteers.
Kristin wants a stud. Perhaps I'll grill him, too.
Kristin loves to walk, and because of this, she has never learnt how to drive. I never learned either.
+++++++++++++++
Now I'm off to fix this sore throat. Hot Toddies are on me, folks! Especially when I've had more than a couple of 'em . . .
Here are some recent keyword searches that landed folks here:
"stinky crotch fishy women" - I am so disturbed by the fact that someone specifically searched for this. I'm even more disturbed that I showed up in the search.
"what is the name of the charmin bear that is best known for the cha-cha-cha charmin butt-wiggle dance" - He has a name? He can't just be the Charmin Bear? Maybe his name is Whipple Bear because maybe he's Mr. Whipple reincarnated. I dunno. The name of the butt-wiggling bear has never been a major source of concern and mystery for me.
"teacher let the bulls out" - Yes, but did she let them back in when the sun went down? Because you know, we have a bit of a skunk problem. I wouldn't want to be out wanderin' my place right now.
www.drawings of spongebob on drugs.com - Ohhh, SpongeBob, WHY??? SpongeBob is just too darn innocent for drugs. Drugs kill, people. Why would an innocent sea creature need drugs when he can sing the C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E-S-O-N-G Song? (Which is my new favorite song, btw) Poor SpongeBob.
"photoblog jockstrap underwear" - I'm going to be really honest when I say that not only have I never photoblogged jockstrap underwear, but I've never even seen a jock strap in real life. There was a brief moment when I panickedly (New word - 100 points for me!) thought Sam was going to need one, but thankfully his daddy said it wasn't necessary. I didn't ask why it wasn't necessary, I was just glad I didn't have to go buy one.
"redneck junk" - It's all in my redneck trunk.
"redneck house of the week" - It's akin to a regular person winning an award from House Beautiful if you get picked for the Redneck House of the Week awards. Of course, mostly trailer houses win, but occasionally a home without wheels will get it.
-----------------------------
Kristin loves Craig. And apparently I have a website about it, too.
Kristin needs to wash her socks. Well, as a matter of fact, I have had them on since 6am...
Kristin wants A Shuga Daddy. Ooh yes, I love candy!!
Kristin loves Ryan. This is from some American Idol site. But Seacrest just ain't my thang, no matter what the internet says.
Kristin needs to add chlorine to the water. Okay, now that's just because someone saw the search for stinky crotch fishy women. Come on in, the water's fine. Really.
Kristin wants your input for the Tator Tops Nominations. Nobody can top my Tater! So you can input all you want, my TaterSis wins.
Kristin loves 'Cool Money. Yes I do. I love cool money much better than those warm checks I've written once or twice in my life.
Kristin needs monthly prayer and financial support. To support my gambling habit.
Kristin wants to meet 11 people. So instead of The Five People You Meet in Heaven, I get 11? I always did like to do things up big.
Kristin loves KENT KRISTIN LOVES JUSTIN KRISTIN LOVES BEN KRISTIN LOVES NAT. KRISTIN LOVES THOMAS KRISTIN LOVES ANDREW KRISTIN LOVES CHRIS I just wanna be loved. Is that so wrong?
Kristin needs to step up to Da Man who will spin her like a record! Oh hizzell to the yeah, biatch.
Kristin wants to run away and hide. But dammit, my kids are really good at Hide n Seek.
Kristin loves her kids. Kristin loves me too. Yes I do, my little schnookum boogums.
Kristin needs some photos of persons who have been executed. Because I'm mentally disturbed? WHO THE HELL NEEDS PICTURES LIKE THAT???? Riddle me that, Batman.
Kristin wants that support. But I usually have to go to Lane Bryant to get it.
Kristin loves dirt. Now, ya know, that might seem to be true because of all of the dust in my house, but truthfully I'm not a big fan.
Kristin needs volunteers for grilling. Because I'm obviously related to Hannibal Lechter if I'm grilling the volunteers.
Kristin wants a stud. Perhaps I'll grill him, too.
Kristin loves to walk, and because of this, she has never learnt how to drive. I never learned either.
+++++++++++++++
Now I'm off to fix this sore throat. Hot Toddies are on me, folks! Especially when I've had more than a couple of 'em . . .
50/50
Good: The 16 Junior Mints that I am allowing to melt in my mouth one at a time even though I want to just dump the whole lot of them in all at once and choke on the minty goodness.
Bad: Cold toilet seats.
Good: Giggling baby who will stop mid-suck and grin at me while milk runs down his chin.
Bad: Babies pooping the peas I gave them for lunch yesterday. Whole peas, people. Do these kids not chew?
Good: I think our cat finally had her kittens.
Bad: I can't find her. Or the kittens.
Good: Naptime.
Bad: Kady is up from nap and sounds like a 2 pack a day smoker. Stupid asthma.
Good: I spent a solid hour with my oldest child last night, sitting at the dining room table. Just the two of us.
Bad: We were going over every assignment she did yesterday - or was supposed to do yesterday. Seems my little bookworm is almost failing a couple or three classes again.
Good: Giggling babies that give big open mouthed, slobbery kisses.
Bad: Fussy babies with intestinal distress. The little one is just gassy. The bigger ones - seems some idiot gave them all peas yesterday.
Good: The weather is actually acting like Spring today.
Bad: My sinuses picked up on the Spring thing way before the weather did.
Bad: Cold toilet seats.
Good: Giggling baby who will stop mid-suck and grin at me while milk runs down his chin.
Bad: Babies pooping the peas I gave them for lunch yesterday. Whole peas, people. Do these kids not chew?
Good: I think our cat finally had her kittens.
Bad: I can't find her. Or the kittens.
Good: Naptime.
Bad: Kady is up from nap and sounds like a 2 pack a day smoker. Stupid asthma.
Good: I spent a solid hour with my oldest child last night, sitting at the dining room table. Just the two of us.
Bad: We were going over every assignment she did yesterday - or was supposed to do yesterday. Seems my little bookworm is almost failing a couple or three classes again.
Good: Giggling babies that give big open mouthed, slobbery kisses.
Bad: Fussy babies with intestinal distress. The little one is just gassy. The bigger ones - seems some idiot gave them all peas yesterday.
Good: The weather is actually acting like Spring today.
Bad: My sinuses picked up on the Spring thing way before the weather did.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Pepe Le Pew, Sinuses and Memory Lane
We seem to have a skunk infestation somewhere here on the Diva Ranch. Last Wednesday night Jake woke us up barking up a storm. Paul went out and Jakie had a skunk backed up against the fence. Paul shot it, but not before it sprayed the yard, the driveway, the dog and I'm not entirely sure it didn't get the house as well. Then today we heard the dog makin' a fuss again and lo and behold, in broad daylight there was a skunk in the yard! I thought they were nocturnal. It was acting' strange, almost drunk, and kept stumbling and falling down. I called Paul, who was visiting a friend, and he said he'd hurry home and told me to keep an eye on it. It wandered all over the place until it finally wandered out to the barn and we haven't seen it since. It'll probably make itself known again around 2am.
---------------------------
I have made it 7 days on Weight Watchers and am doing so well with it it scares me. I know it's not always going to be this easy, but honestly, I'm shocked at how it's going. More than anything I'm shocked at how little food it takes to actually survive. That may sound stupid, but I'm serious. I look at a portion and think that'll never be enough food to fill me up, but strangely enough, I'm stuffed when I'm done eating. I was overstuffing myself!! In fact, there were several nights this week that I found myself scrambling to find a snack after dinner because I had so many points left over. I didn't weigh at the beginning of the week because we didn't have a scale until yesterday, so tomorrow morning I'll weigh and go from there. And what is it about having a scale that makes you weigh yourself repeatedly? I now remember why I threw away the last scale.
---------------------------
I didn't work Friday. Thursday around noon I started running a fever, just like I did on the Monday of Spring Break. By 5, it was up to 101. I was miserable. The parents that were picking their kids up after 5 I told them right then and there that I wasn't working Friday. I called everyone else right after the last kid left. Mom had brought frozen pizzas out for dinner and I let her cook them and feed everyone while I basically stood in the kitchen and whined. The kids were in bed at 8 and by 8:30 I was sound asleep on the couch. I could tell when four hours were up because my Tylenol would wear off and my fever would shoot back up. I didn't sleep well at all.
I got the big kids up for school Friday morning and as soon as the bus picked them up I fell back on the couch and laid there with warm washcloths on my face all day. Kady was so precious to watch cartoons and play with her InteracTV, although at one point I did actually say, "Kady, if you don't stop talking I am going to find you daddy's duct tape and use it on you." I kind of hurt her feelings, but my gosh my head was really hurting. She didn't hold a grudge, though, and after I stumbled through fixing her lunch she curled up with me on the couch and we both took a nice, long, quiet nap.
The Taters were going out that night and wanted us to go, but I wasn't sure I wanted to sit in a smokey casino. We did manage a trip to Wal*Mart for groceries, but only because we were honestly flat out of food. And sinus medicine. Paul can make any shopping trip short because his incessant commands of "Hurry up!" and "Just PICK one, for cryin' out loud!" get really old, really quick. It didn't help, either, that I was using my PointsFinder. Trying to find bread that was only going to charge me 1 Point for two slices wasn't something I'd done in awhile and he just wasn't patient. He was also not really happy when we didn't load the cart down with as many junky sweets as we usually do. They weren't totally deprived, but there was a lot more fruit than normal.
When we left Wal*Mart we stopped at the convenience store that our babysitter works at and I went in to check if she might be available when she got off work. She wasn't and I can't say I was all that disappointed. I really didn't have it in me to go out. So the kids were in bed by 9:30 and I barely made it to the end of Conviction before I was snoozing, too, propped up on the couch, my bloodstream flowing with copious amounts of Sudafed and Motrin.
-----------------------------
While checking out at Wal*Mart, the cashier was making small talk. In just a few sentences we figured out that she worked at the college. I said, "Really. My mom used to run the switchboard." She stopped sacking my groceries, looked up and said, "Are you Redneck Diva??? I read you every day!" Paul, who had been putting sacks in the cart, stopped and looked at us both like we had instantly gone insane. I don't think he thought anyone really read this thing.
So a quick Hey! to Lisa that works at the college AND Wal*Mart. Girl, you made my day!!!
-----------------------------
Yesterday morning I felt a smidge better, so we all 5 loaded up and drove to Wyandotte. And bought a new truck. Yeesh. We needed that like I need a Little Debbie cake. Paul originally tried to spin it that he bought it for me, but it didn't take me long to dispel that. For one thing, it's a Dodge Dakota - a small truck with room for two. We have three children, but I babysit for enough kids to start a baseball team. I need a freakin' cemi, not a small pickup. Plus, it's a standard. I. Don't. Drive. Standards.
The kids and I left him with his new truck, we came back here and picked up the house, I threw in a few loads of laundry, then we went to Miami to sign for our taxes at the accountant, pick up a few prescriptions and buy a scale.
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Oh forgot to mention, Thursday was Wal*Mart's paydayand Paul - the lucky turd - won $300 on his stinkin' lunch hour again. AND Tater jackpotted a machine that night. Too bad I was sick and stuck at home. I could've contributed to their winnings when I lost my butt, like I always do.
----------------------------
Yesterday evening I was stir crazy from being in the house, so we called the sitter and went out at 11pm. For three nights I'd been in bed before 9 and then we go out at 11. No normal sleep patterns here, no way. Not when you go out at 11 and come home at 4am. Paul won. I didn't. At least something remained normal.
----------------------------
Today Paul got up in the attic for me and dragged down a whole bunch of totes for me. I was looking for one and in the process he managed to haul down five for me. Poor fella. The one I was looking for was the one full of my books. My Bobbsey Twins books. Abby's been dying to read them. I found The Chocolate Marshmelephant Sundae and gave it to Sam. But the other totes were chock full of Pretty Ponies, those cheap erasers you used to get in McDonald's Happy Meals before they gave out actual toys, my Garfield and Snoopy figurines, my Glamour Gals, and my Mon Chichis!!!! Anyone else remember those adorable little thumb-sucking monkeys? Kady and Sam have entertained themselves all day with my old toys and Abby's had her nose buried in my books.
I have laid on the couch and read my old diaries. They started in the 8th grade and went up to my Junior year. I decided after that walk down Repressed Memory Lane that I am not allowing my daughters to become teenagers, drive, have friends, go to public school, wear bras (or like their mother, NOT wear them on a dare), date, or do anything that involves them leaving my sight.
And what's scary is that I was way low-key compared to some of my friends and schoolmates. Once, my friend DeLisa and I charged a 30-minute long distance phone call to Arkansas to another phone number. A stranger's phone number!!! I wrote about it for a week in my diary, about how shocked I was at myself for doing it. I was a good kid, just struggling for some freedom.
The entry that made me laugh out loud was the one that said, (and I'm totally quoting here) "Diary, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown. I am so stressed out over book reviews, things for Competitive Speech, boyfriend, and the effing Homecoming Dance! Cyndi and I are both dreading it and trying to find something to wear that will impress those *itches. LIFE SUCKS"
Does that not crack you up? If only I had those things to stress out over now . . . I'd have it made.
Oh, and I really did starve myself back then. I was shocked to read about how little I really did eat. And every January 1, the post included a New Year's Resolution of "Lose 10 pounds". There were many entries of how I nearly passed out doing this or that, how I got light-headed, how I had crushing headaches and how I worried if eating five carrots sticks at lunch instead of two (because I was "just really really hungry") would make me fat.
Oh also, in my repressed memories, I discovered that my parents were "turds", "*itches", "incomprehensible", "unfair", "mean" and they obviously loved Tater way more than me.
Mom, Dad . . . I am SO sorry for every fit, every tantrum and every outburst. Please bestow upon me your infinite wisdom. Obviously you handled things well because Tater and I survived. I, however, am not sure my children will.
---------------------------
I have made it 7 days on Weight Watchers and am doing so well with it it scares me. I know it's not always going to be this easy, but honestly, I'm shocked at how it's going. More than anything I'm shocked at how little food it takes to actually survive. That may sound stupid, but I'm serious. I look at a portion and think that'll never be enough food to fill me up, but strangely enough, I'm stuffed when I'm done eating. I was overstuffing myself!! In fact, there were several nights this week that I found myself scrambling to find a snack after dinner because I had so many points left over. I didn't weigh at the beginning of the week because we didn't have a scale until yesterday, so tomorrow morning I'll weigh and go from there. And what is it about having a scale that makes you weigh yourself repeatedly? I now remember why I threw away the last scale.
---------------------------
I didn't work Friday. Thursday around noon I started running a fever, just like I did on the Monday of Spring Break. By 5, it was up to 101. I was miserable. The parents that were picking their kids up after 5 I told them right then and there that I wasn't working Friday. I called everyone else right after the last kid left. Mom had brought frozen pizzas out for dinner and I let her cook them and feed everyone while I basically stood in the kitchen and whined. The kids were in bed at 8 and by 8:30 I was sound asleep on the couch. I could tell when four hours were up because my Tylenol would wear off and my fever would shoot back up. I didn't sleep well at all.
I got the big kids up for school Friday morning and as soon as the bus picked them up I fell back on the couch and laid there with warm washcloths on my face all day. Kady was so precious to watch cartoons and play with her InteracTV, although at one point I did actually say, "Kady, if you don't stop talking I am going to find you daddy's duct tape and use it on you." I kind of hurt her feelings, but my gosh my head was really hurting. She didn't hold a grudge, though, and after I stumbled through fixing her lunch she curled up with me on the couch and we both took a nice, long, quiet nap.
The Taters were going out that night and wanted us to go, but I wasn't sure I wanted to sit in a smokey casino. We did manage a trip to Wal*Mart for groceries, but only because we were honestly flat out of food. And sinus medicine. Paul can make any shopping trip short because his incessant commands of "Hurry up!" and "Just PICK one, for cryin' out loud!" get really old, really quick. It didn't help, either, that I was using my PointsFinder. Trying to find bread that was only going to charge me 1 Point for two slices wasn't something I'd done in awhile and he just wasn't patient. He was also not really happy when we didn't load the cart down with as many junky sweets as we usually do. They weren't totally deprived, but there was a lot more fruit than normal.
When we left Wal*Mart we stopped at the convenience store that our babysitter works at and I went in to check if she might be available when she got off work. She wasn't and I can't say I was all that disappointed. I really didn't have it in me to go out. So the kids were in bed by 9:30 and I barely made it to the end of Conviction before I was snoozing, too, propped up on the couch, my bloodstream flowing with copious amounts of Sudafed and Motrin.
-----------------------------
While checking out at Wal*Mart, the cashier was making small talk. In just a few sentences we figured out that she worked at the college. I said, "Really. My mom used to run the switchboard." She stopped sacking my groceries, looked up and said, "Are you Redneck Diva??? I read you every day!" Paul, who had been putting sacks in the cart, stopped and looked at us both like we had instantly gone insane. I don't think he thought anyone really read this thing.
So a quick Hey! to Lisa that works at the college AND Wal*Mart. Girl, you made my day!!!
-----------------------------
Yesterday morning I felt a smidge better, so we all 5 loaded up and drove to Wyandotte. And bought a new truck. Yeesh. We needed that like I need a Little Debbie cake. Paul originally tried to spin it that he bought it for me, but it didn't take me long to dispel that. For one thing, it's a Dodge Dakota - a small truck with room for two. We have three children, but I babysit for enough kids to start a baseball team. I need a freakin' cemi, not a small pickup. Plus, it's a standard. I. Don't. Drive. Standards.
The kids and I left him with his new truck, we came back here and picked up the house, I threw in a few loads of laundry, then we went to Miami to sign for our taxes at the accountant, pick up a few prescriptions and buy a scale.
-----------------------------
Oh forgot to mention, Thursday was Wal*Mart's paydayand Paul - the lucky turd - won $300 on his stinkin' lunch hour again. AND Tater jackpotted a machine that night. Too bad I was sick and stuck at home. I could've contributed to their winnings when I lost my butt, like I always do.
----------------------------
Yesterday evening I was stir crazy from being in the house, so we called the sitter and went out at 11pm. For three nights I'd been in bed before 9 and then we go out at 11. No normal sleep patterns here, no way. Not when you go out at 11 and come home at 4am. Paul won. I didn't. At least something remained normal.
----------------------------
Today Paul got up in the attic for me and dragged down a whole bunch of totes for me. I was looking for one and in the process he managed to haul down five for me. Poor fella. The one I was looking for was the one full of my books. My Bobbsey Twins books. Abby's been dying to read them. I found The Chocolate Marshmelephant Sundae and gave it to Sam. But the other totes were chock full of Pretty Ponies, those cheap erasers you used to get in McDonald's Happy Meals before they gave out actual toys, my Garfield and Snoopy figurines, my Glamour Gals, and my Mon Chichis!!!! Anyone else remember those adorable little thumb-sucking monkeys? Kady and Sam have entertained themselves all day with my old toys and Abby's had her nose buried in my books.
I have laid on the couch and read my old diaries. They started in the 8th grade and went up to my Junior year. I decided after that walk down Repressed Memory Lane that I am not allowing my daughters to become teenagers, drive, have friends, go to public school, wear bras (or like their mother, NOT wear them on a dare), date, or do anything that involves them leaving my sight.
And what's scary is that I was way low-key compared to some of my friends and schoolmates. Once, my friend DeLisa and I charged a 30-minute long distance phone call to Arkansas to another phone number. A stranger's phone number!!! I wrote about it for a week in my diary, about how shocked I was at myself for doing it. I was a good kid, just struggling for some freedom.
The entry that made me laugh out loud was the one that said, (and I'm totally quoting here) "Diary, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown. I am so stressed out over book reviews, things for Competitive Speech, boyfriend, and the effing Homecoming Dance! Cyndi and I are both dreading it and trying to find something to wear that will impress those *itches. LIFE SUCKS"
Does that not crack you up? If only I had those things to stress out over now . . . I'd have it made.
Oh, and I really did starve myself back then. I was shocked to read about how little I really did eat. And every January 1, the post included a New Year's Resolution of "Lose 10 pounds". There were many entries of how I nearly passed out doing this or that, how I got light-headed, how I had crushing headaches and how I worried if eating five carrots sticks at lunch instead of two (because I was "just really really hungry") would make me fat.
Oh also, in my repressed memories, I discovered that my parents were "turds", "*itches", "incomprehensible", "unfair", "mean" and they obviously loved Tater way more than me.
Mom, Dad . . . I am SO sorry for every fit, every tantrum and every outburst. Please bestow upon me your infinite wisdom. Obviously you handled things well because Tater and I survived. I, however, am not sure my children will.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Kady's turn
Yesterday must've been Math Day everywhere, not just for Hillbilly Mom. Kady has a gigantic white board that she uses to practice writing K's repeatedly. But for some reason she abandoned penmanship for math yesterday. She would write out problems and then ask me the answers. I was tired of answering so when she asked me, yet again, "Momma, what's one pwus one?" I answered, "You tell me." She threw her hands up in the air, rolled her eyes and said, "Mom! You awe nevaw going to get bettew if you don't pwactice!!"
------------------------
"Is today pay day?"
"Yes, it is. And I'm going to buy groceries tonight!"
"Well, you towd Daddy dis mowning dat it was Twash Day."
"It is Trash Day."
"You gotta be kiddin' me! It can be bowf??" (both)
-----------------------
Mr. Diva fell asleep on the couch last night (under his camouflage blanket, no less, Hillbilly Mom) and woke up around 5 this morning freezing his camouflaged little self to death. I heard him rattling around up front and I wasn't sleeping very well anyway, so I just laid there and listened to him. He came in to get his clothes and announced to me that it was snowing. I sighed, covered my up head and groaned that I wished we'd have a snow day today. He laughed and headed on to the bathroom to the shower. Now, when I wake up at my usual 5:45 I am quiet as a mouse because it's still an hour till the kids get up. I don't want them disturbed early - my hour in the morning is the only time I get to myself the entire day. Mr. Diva hasn't learned the art of being quiet yet - he was opening and slamming drawers, shutting doors without turning the knob first, tripping over toys and cursing loudly and not under his breath, etc. Sure enough, he had no more gotten in the shower than here came Kady padding in to my room in her Stwawbaby Shootcake blanket sleeper, ponytail askew and rubbing her eyes. I pulled back the blankets and she climbed in and snuggled down with me.
Then she proceded to talk. And talk. One thing about Kady, she is never, ever at a loss for words. It doesn't even have to make sense. She just runs sentences into each other, one thought causes another thought. Most of the time it's amusing and cute, other times it makes me want to nail a 2x4 to my forehead.
Finally, it was time to get up. I needed caffeine and I had to pee. I threw back the covers - Kady still talking - and said, "Let's get up, Princess. I need to make the bed." She jumped out on the other side and said, "Okay! I'll hewp! I wike to hewp make your bed. I don't wike to make my own vewy much." And on and on she rattled. Mr. Diva walked in to get a pair of socks. I nodded toward Kady, who was still talking, and said, "Thanks for waking up Chatty Cathy there." She was placing a throw pillow and without stopping or taking a breath she said, "Siwwy Momma. Daddy, you just woke up me!!"
------------------------
"Is today pay day?"
"Yes, it is. And I'm going to buy groceries tonight!"
"Well, you towd Daddy dis mowning dat it was Twash Day."
"It is Trash Day."
"You gotta be kiddin' me! It can be bowf??" (both)
-----------------------
Mr. Diva fell asleep on the couch last night (under his camouflage blanket, no less, Hillbilly Mom) and woke up around 5 this morning freezing his camouflaged little self to death. I heard him rattling around up front and I wasn't sleeping very well anyway, so I just laid there and listened to him. He came in to get his clothes and announced to me that it was snowing. I sighed, covered my up head and groaned that I wished we'd have a snow day today. He laughed and headed on to the bathroom to the shower. Now, when I wake up at my usual 5:45 I am quiet as a mouse because it's still an hour till the kids get up. I don't want them disturbed early - my hour in the morning is the only time I get to myself the entire day. Mr. Diva hasn't learned the art of being quiet yet - he was opening and slamming drawers, shutting doors without turning the knob first, tripping over toys and cursing loudly and not under his breath, etc. Sure enough, he had no more gotten in the shower than here came Kady padding in to my room in her Stwawbaby Shootcake blanket sleeper, ponytail askew and rubbing her eyes. I pulled back the blankets and she climbed in and snuggled down with me.
Then she proceded to talk. And talk. One thing about Kady, she is never, ever at a loss for words. It doesn't even have to make sense. She just runs sentences into each other, one thought causes another thought. Most of the time it's amusing and cute, other times it makes me want to nail a 2x4 to my forehead.
Finally, it was time to get up. I needed caffeine and I had to pee. I threw back the covers - Kady still talking - and said, "Let's get up, Princess. I need to make the bed." She jumped out on the other side and said, "Okay! I'll hewp! I wike to hewp make your bed. I don't wike to make my own vewy much." And on and on she rattled. Mr. Diva walked in to get a pair of socks. I nodded toward Kady, who was still talking, and said, "Thanks for waking up Chatty Cathy there." She was placing a throw pillow and without stopping or taking a breath she said, "Siwwy Momma. Daddy, you just woke up me!!"
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Too fat to ride the roller coaster
This post is hopefully not going to end in me crying, but I'm sure it will. If I chase a few rabbits and digress a bit, just hang with me, okay? I might over-rationalize, make excuses and really just tell you more than you'd ever want to know, but geez, it's not like I haven't done that before, right?
Okay.....I'm taking a deep breath and jumping right in ......
We went to Silver Dollar City last Friday. It's a theme park, with more rides each year. I remember back when there were two rides - an indoor, underground rollercoaster and the flume. Now there are kazillions of rides and more coming. I am a roller coaster junkie and have been since I was a kid. The bigger and faster they are, the better. I love a good thrill ride.
We've established before that I am a big girl. I guess if we're gettin' honest today we'll just come right out and say it, I'm fat. I know I am, it's my fault and well, that's that.
I was a chubby kid from about 4th grade till 6th grade. I wore Pretty Plus clothes from Sears and hated it with a passion. I was popular and well-liked, but I was fat. Therefore, boys didn't like me all that much. My maiden name was Bass.
"Kristin Bass has a fat ass" was heard more than once on the playground.
I don't like sports, I don't like to sweat and I love to read and study and learn. So it was kind of a given that I'd get chunky as a kid at some point, I guess. Plus, well, I like my groceries. Then miraculously before 7th grade I started slimming down. I wasn't skinny, rail thin and gorgeous like the "pretty girls", but I wasn't fat anymore. The women in my family have butts, though - big, round butts. Baby got back? Oh yeah, we got back. The summer before my senior year I had a 27 inch waist and 40 inch hips. I had a flat stomach and small boobs - my gosh, how could I ever have thought I was fat back then? I was round and flat in all the right places, I was voluptuous and cute. Yet I was a cow in my mind and even in the mind of most guys. They wanted my best friend who was a size 2. I lived my Junior and Senior years on carrots stick and SlimFast. My Senior year I did start eating a Snickers bar and a Diet Coke for lunch every day, but the rest of the time I starved myself. My collar bones stuck out freakishly, my cheeks were sunken - my mother thought I was anorexic.
In college I was well-liked by the black guys on campus - they appreciated my curves and ooh I enjoyed that attention. Meeting a group of guys and having them turn and watch me as I passed had never happened to me before. It was nice. I ended up dating a good ol' boy from up in Missouri who wanted his women skinny and submissive. I'll never forget the Christmas that he wanted to get me some Rockies jeans and asked what size I wore. Although I weighed barely 120 pounds I wore a size 9 to 11 jeans. When I told him that he laughed and said, "Fatso. You better get out of the double digits, girl, if you wanna be with me." Needless to say, I didn't stay with him.
When I met Paul I weighed 135 and between the time we met and got married - 3 months - I had gained 10 pounds. But I still was thin and looked good, I fit in my tight cowgirl jeans and could scoot a mean boot. He loved my body the way it was and only wished that I had bigger boobs. He was happy and so was I. But I had found my niche, I had achieved my dreams - I was married! I set about being Suzy Homemaker and cooked him three meals a day. I made cakes and cookies and pies and big, hearty, meaty meals. I fried everything we ate because he was 6'1" and weighed 165 pounds and is a redneck - they eat fried foods and can get away with it. He was a beanpole and had the metabolism of a race horse. He ate my greasy food cooked with love and was a happy newlywed. I ate my greasy food cooked with love and got fat. And fatter and fatter and fatter.
Then we struggled with infertility and I ate to make myself feel better about being a total failure at giving him a child. Then I got pregnant and ate because well, I was eating for two. Then we lost our baby and I ate to drown my pain and heartache. Then he started noticing that I was gaining more and more weight and I knew he noticed so I ate more.
I am a compulsive. I have many compulsions, but eating is my most dangerous. I can alphabetize my canned goods and no one gets hurt. They may laugh, but it doesn't harm anyone or mess up anything. But my compulsion to eat is hurting me. It's killing me, to be honest. But eating makes me so happy, it's something that I can control when the world is spinning in a direction I don't want it to go and can do nothing about. If the kids are whiny, I eat a handful of chips. If Paul is cranky, I hide in the kitchen and down a couple of Twinkies. Bad day at work? Oh that merits a few Oreos. And a few more. Maybe three helpings of mashed potatoes at dinner, too. I can fix anything with food.
Except now the food that was my glue, the stuff that stuck my life together for all these years, is clogging my arteries, raising my blood pressure and making my cholesterol do a funky upward conga line to Cardiac Arrestland. I have stretch marks in places I didn't know stretch marks could exist and thrive. That barren wasteland that is on the underside of the upper arm - I had no clue it was stretch mark inhabitable, yet they have formed a colony and it looks like they're not leaving. I ache, my knees hurt, I snore, I huff and I puff.
I am the woman they kick off the roller coaster when they can't get the harness buckled.
I am now crying, by the way. I told you I would.
I never wanted to be a fat mommy. I wanted to be the cute mommy with the cute clothes and the cute hair who had tons of neverending energy to bounce around the park with her kids, have time and energy for tons of kid activities. I am ashamed to admit this, but there were a few fleeting moments where I thought it might be cool to have an outfit that matched my baby's. But they don't make Mommy and Me outfits for fat mommies. They only go up to size 10. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a cool mommy and I know I'm a good mommy, my entire self-esteem as a parent doesn't hinge on my looks, but I'm sure the kids at school talk about how fat Abby's mom is. I remember being a kid. Fat people are funny. And they're so easy to make fun of.
I have just been able to tell myself all these years that the babies like snuggling with me becuase I have lots of cushy goodness and they can snuggle into my big, squishy boobs and fall right to sleep. And trust me, they do. But if that is my rationalization, my reason, to stay fat it's a pretty poor one.
So after getting kicked off the roller coaster, I ducked my head, gathered my daughter and niece who couldn't ride without me and with cheeks ablaze, I exited Stage Mortified. TotOne was crying. (Abby wasn't - she didn't want to ride that one anyway) I had to squat down on her level, get eye to eye with my 7 year old niece and tell her that Aunt Kiki was too fat to ride the roller coaster and she'd have to wait. That was a moment I never envisioned for myself when I was a teen. But I didn't start crying until after Tater and TotTwo and Sam got back from the ride and Tater took TotOne off to ride. It was then that TotTwo asked why TotOne was getting to ride and TotOne yelled across the walking path, "Because Aunt Kiki's butt was too big to fit and we got kicked off!" That convenient hole that you wish would swallow you up whole was nowhere to be found. Instead I walked down the hill to find my Mom and youngest daughter and burst into tears when I had to tell my mom that I was too fat to ride the roller coaster.
Why am I writing all of this to you? I am not sure. Do I want sympathy? Nah. I don't need sympathy. Do I want you to send me all of your low fat, carbless recipes? Nah. I don't want those, thank you very much. I'm not sure why I wrote what I just wrote. Maybe I just needed to sit here and cry awhile.
I am on day three of Weight Watchers. I have done this before. I have started, I have stopped. I have drugged my way into two smaller pant sizes. (Legal drugs, not meth, although I hear that, too, is effective. But I do kind of have an attachment to my teeth as well) I have starved myself. I have been tempted to throw up, but I really hate to throw up. I guess the reason I might be writing all of this is to tell you that I'm ready to enjoy life again. I'm ready to run and not feel like my lungs are going to explode. I'm ready to jump and not jiggle for half an hour afterwards. I'm ready to be naked in front of my husband and not wonder if he's secretly turned off and embarrassed of me. I'm ready to feel good again.
I'm ready to ride the roller coaster.
Okay.....I'm taking a deep breath and jumping right in ......
We went to Silver Dollar City last Friday. It's a theme park, with more rides each year. I remember back when there were two rides - an indoor, underground rollercoaster and the flume. Now there are kazillions of rides and more coming. I am a roller coaster junkie and have been since I was a kid. The bigger and faster they are, the better. I love a good thrill ride.
We've established before that I am a big girl. I guess if we're gettin' honest today we'll just come right out and say it, I'm fat. I know I am, it's my fault and well, that's that.
I was a chubby kid from about 4th grade till 6th grade. I wore Pretty Plus clothes from Sears and hated it with a passion. I was popular and well-liked, but I was fat. Therefore, boys didn't like me all that much. My maiden name was Bass.
"Kristin Bass has a fat ass" was heard more than once on the playground.
I don't like sports, I don't like to sweat and I love to read and study and learn. So it was kind of a given that I'd get chunky as a kid at some point, I guess. Plus, well, I like my groceries. Then miraculously before 7th grade I started slimming down. I wasn't skinny, rail thin and gorgeous like the "pretty girls", but I wasn't fat anymore. The women in my family have butts, though - big, round butts. Baby got back? Oh yeah, we got back. The summer before my senior year I had a 27 inch waist and 40 inch hips. I had a flat stomach and small boobs - my gosh, how could I ever have thought I was fat back then? I was round and flat in all the right places, I was voluptuous and cute. Yet I was a cow in my mind and even in the mind of most guys. They wanted my best friend who was a size 2. I lived my Junior and Senior years on carrots stick and SlimFast. My Senior year I did start eating a Snickers bar and a Diet Coke for lunch every day, but the rest of the time I starved myself. My collar bones stuck out freakishly, my cheeks were sunken - my mother thought I was anorexic.
In college I was well-liked by the black guys on campus - they appreciated my curves and ooh I enjoyed that attention. Meeting a group of guys and having them turn and watch me as I passed had never happened to me before. It was nice. I ended up dating a good ol' boy from up in Missouri who wanted his women skinny and submissive. I'll never forget the Christmas that he wanted to get me some Rockies jeans and asked what size I wore. Although I weighed barely 120 pounds I wore a size 9 to 11 jeans. When I told him that he laughed and said, "Fatso. You better get out of the double digits, girl, if you wanna be with me." Needless to say, I didn't stay with him.
When I met Paul I weighed 135 and between the time we met and got married - 3 months - I had gained 10 pounds. But I still was thin and looked good, I fit in my tight cowgirl jeans and could scoot a mean boot. He loved my body the way it was and only wished that I had bigger boobs. He was happy and so was I. But I had found my niche, I had achieved my dreams - I was married! I set about being Suzy Homemaker and cooked him three meals a day. I made cakes and cookies and pies and big, hearty, meaty meals. I fried everything we ate because he was 6'1" and weighed 165 pounds and is a redneck - they eat fried foods and can get away with it. He was a beanpole and had the metabolism of a race horse. He ate my greasy food cooked with love and was a happy newlywed. I ate my greasy food cooked with love and got fat. And fatter and fatter and fatter.
Then we struggled with infertility and I ate to make myself feel better about being a total failure at giving him a child. Then I got pregnant and ate because well, I was eating for two. Then we lost our baby and I ate to drown my pain and heartache. Then he started noticing that I was gaining more and more weight and I knew he noticed so I ate more.
I am a compulsive. I have many compulsions, but eating is my most dangerous. I can alphabetize my canned goods and no one gets hurt. They may laugh, but it doesn't harm anyone or mess up anything. But my compulsion to eat is hurting me. It's killing me, to be honest. But eating makes me so happy, it's something that I can control when the world is spinning in a direction I don't want it to go and can do nothing about. If the kids are whiny, I eat a handful of chips. If Paul is cranky, I hide in the kitchen and down a couple of Twinkies. Bad day at work? Oh that merits a few Oreos. And a few more. Maybe three helpings of mashed potatoes at dinner, too. I can fix anything with food.
Except now the food that was my glue, the stuff that stuck my life together for all these years, is clogging my arteries, raising my blood pressure and making my cholesterol do a funky upward conga line to Cardiac Arrestland. I have stretch marks in places I didn't know stretch marks could exist and thrive. That barren wasteland that is on the underside of the upper arm - I had no clue it was stretch mark inhabitable, yet they have formed a colony and it looks like they're not leaving. I ache, my knees hurt, I snore, I huff and I puff.
I am the woman they kick off the roller coaster when they can't get the harness buckled.
I am now crying, by the way. I told you I would.
I never wanted to be a fat mommy. I wanted to be the cute mommy with the cute clothes and the cute hair who had tons of neverending energy to bounce around the park with her kids, have time and energy for tons of kid activities. I am ashamed to admit this, but there were a few fleeting moments where I thought it might be cool to have an outfit that matched my baby's. But they don't make Mommy and Me outfits for fat mommies. They only go up to size 10. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a cool mommy and I know I'm a good mommy, my entire self-esteem as a parent doesn't hinge on my looks, but I'm sure the kids at school talk about how fat Abby's mom is. I remember being a kid. Fat people are funny. And they're so easy to make fun of.
I have just been able to tell myself all these years that the babies like snuggling with me becuase I have lots of cushy goodness and they can snuggle into my big, squishy boobs and fall right to sleep. And trust me, they do. But if that is my rationalization, my reason, to stay fat it's a pretty poor one.
So after getting kicked off the roller coaster, I ducked my head, gathered my daughter and niece who couldn't ride without me and with cheeks ablaze, I exited Stage Mortified. TotOne was crying. (Abby wasn't - she didn't want to ride that one anyway) I had to squat down on her level, get eye to eye with my 7 year old niece and tell her that Aunt Kiki was too fat to ride the roller coaster and she'd have to wait. That was a moment I never envisioned for myself when I was a teen. But I didn't start crying until after Tater and TotTwo and Sam got back from the ride and Tater took TotOne off to ride. It was then that TotTwo asked why TotOne was getting to ride and TotOne yelled across the walking path, "Because Aunt Kiki's butt was too big to fit and we got kicked off!" That convenient hole that you wish would swallow you up whole was nowhere to be found. Instead I walked down the hill to find my Mom and youngest daughter and burst into tears when I had to tell my mom that I was too fat to ride the roller coaster.
Why am I writing all of this to you? I am not sure. Do I want sympathy? Nah. I don't need sympathy. Do I want you to send me all of your low fat, carbless recipes? Nah. I don't want those, thank you very much. I'm not sure why I wrote what I just wrote. Maybe I just needed to sit here and cry awhile.
I am on day three of Weight Watchers. I have done this before. I have started, I have stopped. I have drugged my way into two smaller pant sizes. (Legal drugs, not meth, although I hear that, too, is effective. But I do kind of have an attachment to my teeth as well) I have starved myself. I have been tempted to throw up, but I really hate to throw up. I guess the reason I might be writing all of this is to tell you that I'm ready to enjoy life again. I'm ready to run and not feel like my lungs are going to explode. I'm ready to jump and not jiggle for half an hour afterwards. I'm ready to be naked in front of my husband and not wonder if he's secretly turned off and embarrassed of me. I'm ready to feel good again.
I'm ready to ride the roller coaster.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Two weeks ago . . .
Y'all go empty your bladders right now, grab a snack and a drink and settle in to read about the last two weeks in your Diva's life. I know, I know, it's a wonder y'all have survived this long. Rest easy my children, I'm still alive. Just busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest. Betcha didn't know there even were butt-kicking contests, did ya?
--------------------------------
Okay, so two weeks ago tomorrow Tater, Mom and I went to the beautiful Coleman Theatre in town to see the Riders in the Sky. You know, the cowboys with the colorful, shiny shirts that rival anything Porter Wagner wore. You don't remember them? Yeah, no one else did either. Oh, well. Of course I took pictures. (I may have been absent from my blog, but I've been taking pictures right and left with the intent of showing y'all.)
This is Ranger Doug.
Now do you remember them?
No?
How about now?
Well, if you don't remember them now then I can't help you.
The one on the left is "Too Slim" - he's the one wearing the "cac-tie". That cracked me up.
Woody Paul is the feller on the right.
Anyway, they put on a heck of a show and we really enjoyed it. Evidently the town of Miami loved them as well because the theatre was pretty close to bein' full and we sat about 5 rows from the back. Very entertaining. Mom bought the 25th anniversary CD and asked me to burn a copy for myself and Tater. So instead of burning it right away, I instead took it to my van and tortured my children with cowboy campfire songs for 3 days before they threatened a mutiny. Whippersnappers.
------------------------
The Saturday after that Sam tested for his yellow belt in karate. He's been whining a lot lately about wanting to quit. He's always fine when he gets there and enjoys it, but getting him out the door without much whining is a feat. Sensei said that the majority of people that get to yellow belt will stick with it. Yeah, well, you should've heard the war cry he emitted from the back of the van tonight when I told him that he wouldn't get to go this week due to his mother and her busy-ness and that butt-kicking contest and such. So much for that.
First guy on the left on the first row - that's my Sam.
Tall dude in black on the back row - that's Sensei. *sigh* He's so hot.
---------------------
That night Paul and I went to the casino. Big surprise. My mother in law was on vacation that week and watched our kids like 40 gazillion times. That was cool. Oh yeah, we didn't win anything.
--------------------
Last week started my first full week with all six kids. It's gone incredibly well and I love them all so much. The baby sleeps so much that I check on him about every 10 minutes to make sure he's okay. And smile, oh my gosh, that kid can't take half of his bottles for smiling all over the place. What a sweetie.
-------------------
Jennifer came out and watched all the rugrats Wednesday last week so that I could take Abby to the eye doctor. It'd been a year since her prescription had changed, so I was fully expecting it. Sure enough, she'd changed. Of course, for the worse. She's nearly as blind as her mother, God bless her. We picked up her new glasses yesterday and it was such a signifigant change that she instantly got a headache. I made her take them off and put them on this morning after her eyes had rested. She's great with 'em today and has read everything in sight because now she can actually see.
--------------------
Wednesday night Tammy (CBG's mom), Tater and I went to Joplin to get my tattoo fixed. We ate at Cheddar's. YUM. We decided that the next time we go we must bring Jennifer along. And a cheesecake.
--------------------
Last Friday was the kids' last day of school before Spring Break. I took this week off because originally we had intended to paint our living room. That was eventually nixed and we then said we'd finish the playhouse. It's Wednesday evening and no one has stepped foot in that playhouse. It's been a YEAR since construction began. Okay, 11 months, but still. Geesh. It's obviously a sore subject for me.
Saturday we went to Chandler's 4th birthday party. That night Mom watched the kids and we went out with the Taters to celebrate their 10th anniversary. Bet you'll never guess where we went.
We came home a lot earlier than the Taters did because we're old and poor.
And we also didn't have RLTKAOOTHS because . . . well, I fell asleep. And as Paul said, "I make it a point to quit trying when you start snoring." I really felt bad about that one. I was just really tired.
------------------------
Mom kept the kids all day Sunday and brought dinner out to the Farmette for all of us. We ate Democratic beans (They were left over from the Democratic Party's annual Bean Dinner - the beans themselves actually had no political affiliation. At least, I don't think they did. Although I did call Mom the morning after the dinner and when she answered the phone I said, "Hello, ma'am. I'm from Republicans Against Farting Democrats." She replied with, "Well, then you're going to have a problem. This town's full of 'em today.") and Paul and I listened to the others discuss politics. Now that Mom is working for the election board the family is a smidge more political. Paul and I sat at our end of the table and listened, rather lost. We just don't get into that. But it's fun to listen to everyone discuss until they get all riled up. Then we just sit back and laugh at them.
The weather was pretty stormy and got worse as the evening wore on. The counties around us were popping up Severe T'storm Warnings. Then we were under one. The counties around us started popping up Tornado Warnings. I told everyone that when we're at home and the county goes to warning we head for the neighbor's safe room. So the guys went out and opened up their cellar, we had the kids get their shoes one and we gathered up flashlights. Sure enough, we went into Tornado Warning and what did we all do but go stand out in the yard. I believe Jeff Foxworthy said that's a sign you might be a redneck. It was obvious that the part of the county the Farmette is in is on the edge and we watched the massive storm pass right by, but not without giving us one incredible light show. It was simply amazing.
Kady cried the entire time that she didn't want to "go to da cewwa!" After it was all over and she was playing on the back porch, she looked at the open cellar door and said, "What's that?" We told her it was the cellar and she said, "Oh. I wanna go in that!"
---------------------
Monday the kids and I got up and started cleaning house. Then we got out the boxes of summer clothes so I could see just how much my kids have grown. I like trying on the summer clothes better because they can usually wear shorts more than one year because well, they're short. Jeans, however, we get maybe half a school year out of those. So all in all we only came up with one trash bag to pass down to the Tater kids. About halfway through the trying on process I started feeling like my skin hurt. By the time we were done, I wanted to just die. I was running a fever. I put on sweats, curled up on the couch under three thick fleece blankets and slept the rest of the afternoon. I guess it was my sinuses. I ended up pouring enough ibuprofen into my body that my fever came down and I went to Ladies' Night. I am nothing if not dedicated to my addiction.
-----------------------
Yesterday the Brownie Troop met up at the county courthouse and we toured the Court Clerk's office, the County Assessor's Office and the County Treasurer's office. The girls yawned a lot. God bless 'em, it was really hot in there yesterday and heck, even I didn't know what some of the people were talking about.
This was the girls getting to use the County Clerk's stamp. They thought that was mega cool.
But the highlight of the trip was visiting the County Election Board where, as luck would have it, Mom is now working. The Troop is taking a trip to Branson in May so we decided to let the girls vote on which show we see while we're there. We narrowed it down to two choices at our last meeting - Dixie Stampede and Comedy Pet Theatre. Tater and I lobbied pretty hard (which I did learn is actually kind of illegal in real elections) for the Stampede beforehand. The ladies in the office set up a voting booth for the girls and let them use actual ballots. Those girls thought they were all that.
Abby looking entirely too grownup for my taste.
And for those who were a little height-challenged, they were more than accomodating.
After lunch in the back room of the Election Board we walked a few blocks downtown to the Coleman Theatre where the ever-wonderful Mr. Erwin gave the girls a tour. Not a ghost tour, but a regular one. Of course, he did throw in a few teasers about the theatre being haunted the girls thought that was cool.
Notice the flower in Tater's hair? Cute, huh?
This is Abby and her friend, McKenzie, looking up at the chandelier. Or looking for ghosts.
All in all, it was a good, exhausting day.
----------------------
This morning the Diva children and I left the house at 9:30 and got back home around 5:30. Abby had a doctor's appointment at 9:50 because her Zantac has quit working. Diagnosis: She grew and her dosage was wrong. And also, she's just a nervous kid and hopefully she'll grow out of it. Stressful situations and spicy food nearly kill her. Poor kid.
After that Mom took us to the Chinese restaurant for lunch, where we saw Small Town Starlit. She's having a much more relaxing Spring Break than I am!! Lucky! After that we headed for Tulsa for a headgear check at the dentist. I also paid the man off and now I own Abby free and clear.
---------------------
Tomorrow I'm getting our taxes done.
Friday morning we leave for Branson.
Who said vacations are supposed to be relaxing??
--------------------------------
Okay, so two weeks ago tomorrow Tater, Mom and I went to the beautiful Coleman Theatre in town to see the Riders in the Sky. You know, the cowboys with the colorful, shiny shirts that rival anything Porter Wagner wore. You don't remember them? Yeah, no one else did either. Oh, well. Of course I took pictures. (I may have been absent from my blog, but I've been taking pictures right and left with the intent of showing y'all.)
This is Ranger Doug.
Now do you remember them?
No?
How about now?
Well, if you don't remember them now then I can't help you.
The one on the left is "Too Slim" - he's the one wearing the "cac-tie". That cracked me up.
Woody Paul is the feller on the right.
Anyway, they put on a heck of a show and we really enjoyed it. Evidently the town of Miami loved them as well because the theatre was pretty close to bein' full and we sat about 5 rows from the back. Very entertaining. Mom bought the 25th anniversary CD and asked me to burn a copy for myself and Tater. So instead of burning it right away, I instead took it to my van and tortured my children with cowboy campfire songs for 3 days before they threatened a mutiny. Whippersnappers.
------------------------
The Saturday after that Sam tested for his yellow belt in karate. He's been whining a lot lately about wanting to quit. He's always fine when he gets there and enjoys it, but getting him out the door without much whining is a feat. Sensei said that the majority of people that get to yellow belt will stick with it. Yeah, well, you should've heard the war cry he emitted from the back of the van tonight when I told him that he wouldn't get to go this week due to his mother and her busy-ness and that butt-kicking contest and such. So much for that.
First guy on the left on the first row - that's my Sam.
Tall dude in black on the back row - that's Sensei. *sigh* He's so hot.
---------------------
That night Paul and I went to the casino. Big surprise. My mother in law was on vacation that week and watched our kids like 40 gazillion times. That was cool. Oh yeah, we didn't win anything.
--------------------
Last week started my first full week with all six kids. It's gone incredibly well and I love them all so much. The baby sleeps so much that I check on him about every 10 minutes to make sure he's okay. And smile, oh my gosh, that kid can't take half of his bottles for smiling all over the place. What a sweetie.
-------------------
Jennifer came out and watched all the rugrats Wednesday last week so that I could take Abby to the eye doctor. It'd been a year since her prescription had changed, so I was fully expecting it. Sure enough, she'd changed. Of course, for the worse. She's nearly as blind as her mother, God bless her. We picked up her new glasses yesterday and it was such a signifigant change that she instantly got a headache. I made her take them off and put them on this morning after her eyes had rested. She's great with 'em today and has read everything in sight because now she can actually see.
--------------------
Wednesday night Tammy (CBG's mom), Tater and I went to Joplin to get my tattoo fixed. We ate at Cheddar's. YUM. We decided that the next time we go we must bring Jennifer along. And a cheesecake.
--------------------
Last Friday was the kids' last day of school before Spring Break. I took this week off because originally we had intended to paint our living room. That was eventually nixed and we then said we'd finish the playhouse. It's Wednesday evening and no one has stepped foot in that playhouse. It's been a YEAR since construction began. Okay, 11 months, but still. Geesh. It's obviously a sore subject for me.
Saturday we went to Chandler's 4th birthday party. That night Mom watched the kids and we went out with the Taters to celebrate their 10th anniversary. Bet you'll never guess where we went.
We came home a lot earlier than the Taters did because we're old and poor.
And we also didn't have RLTKAOOTHS because . . . well, I fell asleep. And as Paul said, "I make it a point to quit trying when you start snoring." I really felt bad about that one. I was just really tired.
------------------------
Mom kept the kids all day Sunday and brought dinner out to the Farmette for all of us. We ate Democratic beans (They were left over from the Democratic Party's annual Bean Dinner - the beans themselves actually had no political affiliation. At least, I don't think they did. Although I did call Mom the morning after the dinner and when she answered the phone I said, "Hello, ma'am. I'm from Republicans Against Farting Democrats." She replied with, "Well, then you're going to have a problem. This town's full of 'em today.") and Paul and I listened to the others discuss politics. Now that Mom is working for the election board the family is a smidge more political. Paul and I sat at our end of the table and listened, rather lost. We just don't get into that. But it's fun to listen to everyone discuss until they get all riled up. Then we just sit back and laugh at them.
The weather was pretty stormy and got worse as the evening wore on. The counties around us were popping up Severe T'storm Warnings. Then we were under one. The counties around us started popping up Tornado Warnings. I told everyone that when we're at home and the county goes to warning we head for the neighbor's safe room. So the guys went out and opened up their cellar, we had the kids get their shoes one and we gathered up flashlights. Sure enough, we went into Tornado Warning and what did we all do but go stand out in the yard. I believe Jeff Foxworthy said that's a sign you might be a redneck. It was obvious that the part of the county the Farmette is in is on the edge and we watched the massive storm pass right by, but not without giving us one incredible light show. It was simply amazing.
Kady cried the entire time that she didn't want to "go to da cewwa!" After it was all over and she was playing on the back porch, she looked at the open cellar door and said, "What's that?" We told her it was the cellar and she said, "Oh. I wanna go in that!"
---------------------
Monday the kids and I got up and started cleaning house. Then we got out the boxes of summer clothes so I could see just how much my kids have grown. I like trying on the summer clothes better because they can usually wear shorts more than one year because well, they're short. Jeans, however, we get maybe half a school year out of those. So all in all we only came up with one trash bag to pass down to the Tater kids. About halfway through the trying on process I started feeling like my skin hurt. By the time we were done, I wanted to just die. I was running a fever. I put on sweats, curled up on the couch under three thick fleece blankets and slept the rest of the afternoon. I guess it was my sinuses. I ended up pouring enough ibuprofen into my body that my fever came down and I went to Ladies' Night. I am nothing if not dedicated to my addiction.
-----------------------
Yesterday the Brownie Troop met up at the county courthouse and we toured the Court Clerk's office, the County Assessor's Office and the County Treasurer's office. The girls yawned a lot. God bless 'em, it was really hot in there yesterday and heck, even I didn't know what some of the people were talking about.
This was the girls getting to use the County Clerk's stamp. They thought that was mega cool.
But the highlight of the trip was visiting the County Election Board where, as luck would have it, Mom is now working. The Troop is taking a trip to Branson in May so we decided to let the girls vote on which show we see while we're there. We narrowed it down to two choices at our last meeting - Dixie Stampede and Comedy Pet Theatre. Tater and I lobbied pretty hard (which I did learn is actually kind of illegal in real elections) for the Stampede beforehand. The ladies in the office set up a voting booth for the girls and let them use actual ballots. Those girls thought they were all that.
Abby looking entirely too grownup for my taste.
And for those who were a little height-challenged, they were more than accomodating.
After lunch in the back room of the Election Board we walked a few blocks downtown to the Coleman Theatre where the ever-wonderful Mr. Erwin gave the girls a tour. Not a ghost tour, but a regular one. Of course, he did throw in a few teasers about the theatre being haunted the girls thought that was cool.
Notice the flower in Tater's hair? Cute, huh?
This is Abby and her friend, McKenzie, looking up at the chandelier. Or looking for ghosts.
All in all, it was a good, exhausting day.
----------------------
This morning the Diva children and I left the house at 9:30 and got back home around 5:30. Abby had a doctor's appointment at 9:50 because her Zantac has quit working. Diagnosis: She grew and her dosage was wrong. And also, she's just a nervous kid and hopefully she'll grow out of it. Stressful situations and spicy food nearly kill her. Poor kid.
After that Mom took us to the Chinese restaurant for lunch, where we saw Small Town Starlit. She's having a much more relaxing Spring Break than I am!! Lucky! After that we headed for Tulsa for a headgear check at the dentist. I also paid the man off and now I own Abby free and clear.
---------------------
Tomorrow I'm getting our taxes done.
Friday morning we leave for Branson.
Who said vacations are supposed to be relaxing??
Friday, March 10, 2006
We redneck divas have a way with words
A few weeks ago Tater and I took the girls out to deliver some GS cookies. There is a lady that buys a boatload from Abby every year and while this is extremely awesome, what's even better (in Abby's mind anyway) is that this woman has some gigantic dogs - Akitas. These dogs are massive!! The kids love going over there to see the "big puppies", so they were 10 kinds of excited when I told them we were going to Judy's house.
I, the Queen of Sticking My Overly Large Foot In My Mouth, am also - I know you'll find this shocking - a redneck. I know, shocking, eh? But what a lot of people don't know is that, being a redneck, you are contractually bound to use phrases and words like "Well, I'll be" and "Dadgummit", to name a few. So I obviously had my redneck pants on that day because as the girls were petting the beast, Mopar, Abby asked where their girl-dog was. Judy said, "Girl-Dog died over the summer." She was obviously saddened by the loss of her gigantic female dog and there was an uncomfortable pause, Abby not knowing what to say. So I filled in the silence with, "Doggone."
*******************************
Last night at Brownies the girls were playing Career Charades. I was whispering different careers in their ears and they had to act them out for the other girls to guess. We had done Computer Programmer, Firefighter, Farmer and I whispered "Carpenter" in Addison's ear. She whispered back, "Just a carpenter?" I nodded, so she got down on the floor and made like she was laying carpet. Oy. So I called her back up to me and clarified that she was a person who built things. She nodded and went back over in front of the group. She started acting like she was hammering and the girls started hollering out "Builder!" and "Construction worker!" We were trying to get them to say the word "Carpenter" but no one was coming up with that word. Finally Tater said, "What was Jesus?" Abby jumped up and shouted, "A Christ!! She's a Christ!"
I, the Queen of Sticking My Overly Large Foot In My Mouth, am also - I know you'll find this shocking - a redneck. I know, shocking, eh? But what a lot of people don't know is that, being a redneck, you are contractually bound to use phrases and words like "Well, I'll be" and "Dadgummit", to name a few. So I obviously had my redneck pants on that day because as the girls were petting the beast, Mopar, Abby asked where their girl-dog was. Judy said, "Girl-Dog died over the summer." She was obviously saddened by the loss of her gigantic female dog and there was an uncomfortable pause, Abby not knowing what to say. So I filled in the silence with, "Doggone."
*******************************
Last night at Brownies the girls were playing Career Charades. I was whispering different careers in their ears and they had to act them out for the other girls to guess. We had done Computer Programmer, Firefighter, Farmer and I whispered "Carpenter" in Addison's ear. She whispered back, "Just a carpenter?" I nodded, so she got down on the floor and made like she was laying carpet. Oy. So I called her back up to me and clarified that she was a person who built things. She nodded and went back over in front of the group. She started acting like she was hammering and the girls started hollering out "Builder!" and "Construction worker!" We were trying to get them to say the word "Carpenter" but no one was coming up with that word. Finally Tater said, "What was Jesus?" Abby jumped up and shouted, "A Christ!! She's a Christ!"
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
It seems I've been tagged
I've been tagged by Mama KBear and farbeit from me to turn down a good tag!!
List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your blog along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they're listening to.
1. Bad Day by Daniel Powter - I really love the song, but I love the video even more! No particular reason, it's just a cool song.
2. You're Beautiful by James Blunt - HOT HOT HOT!! I don't even like skinny guys, but for some reason this guy . . . yeah, baby. I downloaded the unedited version, so I have to turn down the volume in one part when the kids are in the car. They don't understand why I'm censoring the word "flying", but since that's the only version they've heard, we'll just let them be confused.
3. I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues by Elton John - Total flashback, but I have always liked this song. I can remember being a kid when it came out, singing along and once Mom heard me belt out the line "Rolling like thunder under the covers" and nearly had a stroke. I didn't know what it meant!!
4. Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects - YEAH! We've all got 'em, those dirty little secrets. At least I do. You know I'm only 44% pure. >:)
5. The Woman in Me by Shania Twain - I am not a Shania fan in the least, but I love this song. It is so true of me - I try to be strong and independent all the time, but there are times that all I need is to be wrapped up in his arms and protected awhile.
6. Come a Little Closer by Dierks Bentley - His curly hair and his sexy voice . . . oh my. *fans herself* And at the end of the video they are having such passionate sex that a chandelier falls. I want to have chandelier-breaking sex!!
7. Just Might (Make Me Believe) by Sugarland - The first time I heard this song I nearly cried. It's like someone looked into my heart and wrote what I was feeling.
I'm tagging
Shannon
Jen
Small Town Starlit
Andi
Stacie
Thanks Mama K!! That was fun!!
List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your blog along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they're listening to.
1. Bad Day by Daniel Powter - I really love the song, but I love the video even more! No particular reason, it's just a cool song.
2. You're Beautiful by James Blunt - HOT HOT HOT!! I don't even like skinny guys, but for some reason this guy . . . yeah, baby. I downloaded the unedited version, so I have to turn down the volume in one part when the kids are in the car. They don't understand why I'm censoring the word "flying", but since that's the only version they've heard, we'll just let them be confused.
3. I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues by Elton John - Total flashback, but I have always liked this song. I can remember being a kid when it came out, singing along and once Mom heard me belt out the line "Rolling like thunder under the covers" and nearly had a stroke. I didn't know what it meant!!
4. Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects - YEAH! We've all got 'em, those dirty little secrets. At least I do. You know I'm only 44% pure. >:)
5. The Woman in Me by Shania Twain - I am not a Shania fan in the least, but I love this song. It is so true of me - I try to be strong and independent all the time, but there are times that all I need is to be wrapped up in his arms and protected awhile.
6. Come a Little Closer by Dierks Bentley - His curly hair and his sexy voice . . . oh my. *fans herself* And at the end of the video they are having such passionate sex that a chandelier falls. I want to have chandelier-breaking sex!!
7. Just Might (Make Me Believe) by Sugarland - The first time I heard this song I nearly cried. It's like someone looked into my heart and wrote what I was feeling.
I'm tagging
Shannon
Jen
Small Town Starlit
Andi
Stacie
Thanks Mama K!! That was fun!!
Intense but in a good way
Yesterday afternoon was pretty intense with the babies. I was lying in the floor playing with CBB, CLB and CBG. We were stacking blocks and knocking them over. I was lying on my side, propped up on one arm, helping the boys stack. CBG was obviously trying to get my attention with her gurgling and babbling, but I was a bit preoccupied with my stacking and she didn't like that. She speed-crawled over to me and gave my hair a good solid yank. It didn't really hurt, but I instantly reacted with a "CBG!! No NO!! We don't pull hair! You hurt Kiki!!" She glared at me. Imagine a 9 month old glaring. It's quite a site. Then without a sound more, she blinked and crawled away. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or call her mother and tatttle. So I opted to ignore her and went back to stacking blocks. A few minutes later, before I knew she was there, she was back up by my head and gave my hair a rough two-handed yank. Again, the reaction, "CBG!!! No NO!! You HURT Kiki!" and I spatted her hand. Ohhhhhhh the tears. I broke that baby's heart! But instead of shunning me, she instead held her hands up to be held. I sat up, scooped her into my arms and she laid her head on my shoulder in, what I am interpreting as, an apology. And even if she wasn't apologizing, it was still cool that she loved me even after I'd broken her wee little heart.
Later, CTB was fussin', but he had just had a bottle, his diaper was dry and I couldn't figure out what was wrong, so I sat in the floor and held him. We played Pop and Catch the Paci. I'd pop it in his mouth, he'd pop it out and I'd catch it before it hit the floor. Yeah, me and CTB, we know what's fun. But then he grew weary of that game and instead found my finger to be much more satifying and started sucking on my finger. I was okay with it, my finger was clean, so I let him. But while I was sitting with him in my left arm, my hand in a funky position with my index finger in his mouth, CBG was sitting on my right leg, holding onto me for dear life, her fingers grasping my shirt so tightly that I think it's permanently wrinkled in two little spots. And we sat in the floor for about 15 minutes like that. Just me and the two littlest babies, rocking, singing and bouncing. We were still sitting there doing that when CBG's momma came in and busted out laughing at the state I was in. She said, "Ohhhh Kiki!! You have your hands full, don't you?" I said, "Well, yeah. Literally."
Later, CTB was fussin', but he had just had a bottle, his diaper was dry and I couldn't figure out what was wrong, so I sat in the floor and held him. We played Pop and Catch the Paci. I'd pop it in his mouth, he'd pop it out and I'd catch it before it hit the floor. Yeah, me and CTB, we know what's fun. But then he grew weary of that game and instead found my finger to be much more satifying and started sucking on my finger. I was okay with it, my finger was clean, so I let him. But while I was sitting with him in my left arm, my hand in a funky position with my index finger in his mouth, CBG was sitting on my right leg, holding onto me for dear life, her fingers grasping my shirt so tightly that I think it's permanently wrinkled in two little spots. And we sat in the floor for about 15 minutes like that. Just me and the two littlest babies, rocking, singing and bouncing. We were still sitting there doing that when CBG's momma came in and busted out laughing at the state I was in. She said, "Ohhhh Kiki!! You have your hands full, don't you?" I said, "Well, yeah. Literally."
Yesterday turned out to be a good day.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Blew out my flip flop
:
* My morning dose of Relacore got stuck in my throat and now I'm belching some funky herby, vitamany taste.
* I'm retaining water more effectively than the Hoover freakin' dam.
* Today is my first day with all six babysittin' kids. How's that going for me, you ask? So far, smashingly. Of course, three of them are asleep right now. Ask me again later. It may go from smashingly to me smashing things.
* I'm really considering not going to Ladies' Night tonight. I'm thinking that sleep is more important to my bloated, cranky self.
A few good things to even out the iffy stuff:
* We got coupons in the paper yesterday for Long John Silver's and Mr. Diva said he'd take me there for dinner tonight. Of course, adding LJS food to my already bloated body might very well just cause me to explode.
* CBG, even though she'd been gone for two weeks, remembered me this morning and when I picked her up she grabbed my hair, pulled me to her and gave me what I think was a kiss. That was stellar.
* I was totally ready for work in an hour and 10 minutes this morning. I was totally ready when my first kid arrived.
Hmh. I really thought there was more good stuff. Guess not.
I'm going to try my darndest to post better this week. This going 4 days and longer is drivin' me batty!!
* My morning dose of Relacore got stuck in my throat and now I'm belching some funky herby, vitamany taste.
* I'm retaining water more effectively than the Hoover freakin' dam.
* Today is my first day with all six babysittin' kids. How's that going for me, you ask? So far, smashingly. Of course, three of them are asleep right now. Ask me again later. It may go from smashingly to me smashing things.
* I'm really considering not going to Ladies' Night tonight. I'm thinking that sleep is more important to my bloated, cranky self.
A few good things to even out the iffy stuff:
* We got coupons in the paper yesterday for Long John Silver's and Mr. Diva said he'd take me there for dinner tonight. Of course, adding LJS food to my already bloated body might very well just cause me to explode.
* CBG, even though she'd been gone for two weeks, remembered me this morning and when I picked her up she grabbed my hair, pulled me to her and gave me what I think was a kiss. That was stellar.
* I was totally ready for work in an hour and 10 minutes this morning. I was totally ready when my first kid arrived.
Hmh. I really thought there was more good stuff. Guess not.
I'm going to try my darndest to post better this week. This going 4 days and longer is drivin' me batty!!
Sunday, March 05, 2006
My heart hurts
I stole that title from my friend Stacie, but it's really true tonight. For some reason, I'm sad.
If we were to get down to brass tacks, I'd just come right out and tell you that my hormones are trainwrecking right now inside my pituitary gland or whatever other glands are responsible and that's the reason for my melancholy, baby. But hormones aside, there's just too much sad today. I hate sad.
I'm sad for Shannon, whose baby boy should've been born a few days ago. Instead he came early and left early. I don't understand why and neither do they.
I'm sad for Brian whose dad gave it a good fight, but lost. I can't imagine losing a parent and pray that Jesus just comes back before I have to deal with that.
I'm sad for Tater who is fussing with her husband. Sometimes marriage sucks.
I'm sad for the family of kids whose mommy and daddy are now dead because of anger he couldn't control.
I'm sad for the little girl whose daddy shot her mommy.
I'm sad because a precious baby named McKenna was murdered by her mother's drunk boyfriend. She didn't do anything wrong, yet she paid a high price.
I'm sad for McKenna's mother.
I'm sad for my Nana who is in the nursing home and thinks she gets to go home again. She doesn't this time. Two broken hips in a matter of months doesn't leave the family much choice. She's there for the rest of her life. She just doesn't know it yet.
I'm sad for me. Wanna know why?
I can't fix all the sadness. And that makes my heart hurt. It makes my eyes burn and tear up. It makes me want to sleep for a long, long time. It makes me have a headache. It makes me cranky and makes me yell at my kids. It makes me mad.
Sad sucks.
If we were to get down to brass tacks, I'd just come right out and tell you that my hormones are trainwrecking right now inside my pituitary gland or whatever other glands are responsible and that's the reason for my melancholy, baby. But hormones aside, there's just too much sad today. I hate sad.
I'm sad for Shannon, whose baby boy should've been born a few days ago. Instead he came early and left early. I don't understand why and neither do they.
I'm sad for Brian whose dad gave it a good fight, but lost. I can't imagine losing a parent and pray that Jesus just comes back before I have to deal with that.
I'm sad for Tater who is fussing with her husband. Sometimes marriage sucks.
I'm sad for the family of kids whose mommy and daddy are now dead because of anger he couldn't control.
I'm sad for the little girl whose daddy shot her mommy.
I'm sad because a precious baby named McKenna was murdered by her mother's drunk boyfriend. She didn't do anything wrong, yet she paid a high price.
I'm sad for McKenna's mother.
I'm sad for my Nana who is in the nursing home and thinks she gets to go home again. She doesn't this time. Two broken hips in a matter of months doesn't leave the family much choice. She's there for the rest of her life. She just doesn't know it yet.
I'm sad for me. Wanna know why?
I can't fix all the sadness. And that makes my heart hurt. It makes my eyes burn and tear up. It makes me want to sleep for a long, long time. It makes me have a headache. It makes me cranky and makes me yell at my kids. It makes me mad.
Sad sucks.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my
| Somewhat Debacherous You are 44% pure! |
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My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender:
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| Link: The 100 Point Sexual Purity Test written by ocicat on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test |
And y'all thought that quite possibly having pictures of the gay sheep herders kissing was scandalous . . . turns out I'm downright debacherous!!
It's probably a good thing my mother doesn't read my blog today.
Friday, March 03, 2006
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