Finally Friday

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.)