Solace

As a mom, I have realized my need to cherish small moments of peace. My son is 3 and has not yest grasped the concept that I would like to go to the bathroom alone despite his recent requests for "privacy". My daughter is 7 months and cannot for the life of her understand why I would ever not want to be within her arms reach and since she has just discovered that she is in control of the noises that come out of her mouth quiet time with her now firmly cemented as a thing of the past.

In addition to my bustling home life, I am also currently working 3 jobs. My main job, a part-time therapist position, and I am still baking for $. With all this going on, I have stumbled on some pretty unlikely places to take a moment to catch my breath and decompress. If anyone else has any more I would love to hear them.

The first is my car. This comes with some stipulations. It must be after I have dropped my kids off on the way to work or somewhere or on my way home. I use my time in the car to do fun things that I cannot really do at home. For example, I talk on the phone with my friends. (Don't worry, I use my headset. I may not be safe from the radiation in my ear, but my hands are free.) I also sometimes just drive with the radio off, let my thoughts wander and process my day. I know I'm recharged when the silence becomes to much and I start to long to hear my kids voices and yearn for one of Husband's jokes.

My next new favorite place is the elevator. Even if people are talking and being irritating while waiting they seem to get quiet once the elevator doors close. Next time you get in an elevator think about it. People will either stop talking or get off their phones. People will stop talking to the coworker next to them. It is amazing. I am not sure what it is about that tight space that makes people hush, but I LOVE it! I stare as the numbers change and take as many breaths as I can without being conspicuous, although I will admit that I sometimes sigh when it opens on my floor, but I am amazed at how that short ride allows me to regroup.

I often feel like I am running from thing to thing and moment to moment and I am constantly on alert for ways to make the most of the time that I am given and I have found these two places work really well for me. I have even started to enjoy a slow walk back to my desk from the bathroom. When we first moved into our new space I was really annoyed that the restroom was no longer in office. Mainly, it was because I am lazy and did not want to walk and  plus I did not want to share with other offices. I had just gotten used to my office mates level of nasty and now I was expected to add more people to the list, but I digress. I now enjoy being far enough away from my desk that people don't stand around and wait for me to return and that I can't be paged in there. It is just one more way I escape the rat race.

A Rut

Some days I wonder, have I lost my edge as well as my abs. There are many days when I sit at work and wonder how I got so comfortable sitting behind a desk. I realize that part of the problem is that I am not really happy with where I am in life and most of the time I feel too tired to do anything about it.

I realize the reason the weight is not coming off like it did the last time is because I just don't feel like I should have to work that hard. I don' t want to go on a diet. I don't want to have to add going to the gym to my massive list of things to do. I am pretty sure that the way I feel qualifies me as being in a rut.

I do the same things at work everyday and while I never found my work to be particularly challenging (I will never understand why they required a college education for a job that mostly consists of making haircut appointments,, dinner reservations, and using the scanner function on the copy machine.), but I am procrastinating even more than usual. I found myself looking at my desk the other day thinking "someone should really take care of this" then I realized that the someone whose job it is is me. You know it is bad when you realize you would fire yourself. Yes, it is really that bad!

Things are better when I go home, but I there I am inundated with things that always take precedence over whatever it is that I have planned upon walking in the door. I may have mapped out exactly how I think the evening should go, but with two kids you know that is not how things go down at my house. I usually spend my evening trying to convince LoLo to eat and Suga to stop throwing her paci. I spend my night not catching up on my to do list, but treading water to keep my house just above disaster level and yelling things like, "Don't poot in your sister's closet" or "That is not a pocket" or my personal favorite, "Do you hear me talking to you?" Couple that fun with the baking business that I am constantly working on and all I can say is thank God I married a good one. (I may have married him because he is HOT, but I stay because he is sweet!)

I have a few friends who feel the same way. We are all going through something, be it divorce, buying a house, not liking your husband, figuring out dating, or planning a career change and to be honest there are some times when you are just OVER it! That is where I am right now. I figure the only way to get out of this rut is to acknowledge that I am in it and then plan my escape.

I am thinking a vacation might be the trick.

Slacking

I did not right yesterday, not because I did not have anything to say, but because I procrastinated so badly that by the time I remembered to write I was out of time. While I would love to regal you with the story that I had planned for yesterday, I must admit that I cannot for the life of me remember what I was going to say. Clearly, it was of the utmost importance to me.

I can't remember if it was about my weight or maybe it was about the ridiculous hour long meeting I sat through in which the committee came to the conclusion that my suggestion given in the first 15 minutes was going to be the plan. I really don't remeber. Maybe it was about God, but I am pretty sure I covered everything that I wanted to say about Him the other day. It could have been about my hair. I still have no idea what I am going to do with this crazy mass living on the top of my head. I have at least upgraded to combing it every day.

I might have been getting ready to go on a tirade about people not wanting to pay me or the job interview that the hospital wants me to come in for. There is no official job yet and they aren't accepting applications until the new year, but wonder if I can come in and work a couple days to see how I work with the team. Even as I type that I realize it doesn't make anymore sense to me now than it did when she first said it.

I went through all the mail that was sprawled across my house and realized that I owe a lot of money to a lot of people. Everyone seems to have a hand in my pocket. I brought the important looking ones with me to work so that I could get a better handle on my life. I know that is what I planned to do this year- get a grip on my life. Ha. That is so not happening and I have to be honest- I was much happier when I had NO clue. Fact: Ignorance really is bliss! It may be torture for the people around you, but as a former ignorant I understand the desire to stay in the dark- especially with regard to finances.

That was definitely not yesterday's topic. Maybe it was about how some parent sent their kid to school hacking and now my son is at my mother's house because he was coughing so hard yesterday that he threw up and had to miss the class Christmas party! Argh! I just don't understand that and why don't they teach their kid to cover his/her mouth. How hard is that? I mean, really.

Whatever! I don't know what I was going to write about, but take what you will from the thoughts I am pretty sure I had yesterday.

Mommy Moments

Most of my mommy moments consist of me saying things like, "Don't poot in your sister's closet", but last night I got to have one of those special moments like the ones you see on television and get all misty eyed. My sweet sweet LoLo Monster was a mouse in the his schools production of The Nutcracker. Not only was my sweet boy the cutest mouse by far, he was also the only mouse his age. When it is something he wants to do my son can be quite the charmer and somehow he convinced the teachers to let him be with the big boys during rehearsal. So while all the other parents were trying to figure out who the short kid was I was reveling in the fact that my baby was up there looking just as composed and hitting all the same marks as the big kids.

After he performed and came and sat with us the older kids put on their play, but that was not the end of my children performing. Oh, no. Every time the big kid chorus started to sing, Suga Booga sang. She took out her paci and sang. She pushed it to the side of her mouth and sang. She would not be denied her time in the spotlight. She was not sitting with me, but with her TiTi and since these people don't really know me I leaned over and said, "Man, lady! You need to take care of your kid." It felt good and I snickered as she rolled her eyes at me.

I also had a good time sitting with Husband who always knows how to make me laugh. When the protagonist of the older kid play goes to get her luxurious hair cut off he bends towards me and says, "That ain't nothing but Ultra Perm." I could hardly contain myself. I firmly believe that there is a quote from Coming to America to fit every situation. I still want to try and have a conversation with someone where I only respond with quotes from the movie. (That reminds me I still haven't watched The Big Lebowski, but I digress.)

After the weekend I had it felt good to feel good and I just wanted to share that with you all. See, it does get better.

It Gets Better

I am not a teenager. I am not gay. I am not currently being bullied. I may not be any of those things, but really needed an "It Gets Better" PSA or campaign this weekend.

First one of my bosses waited until the last minute to decide to go on a fabulous vacation. I called the travel person so many times that I know her schedule by heart. First he refused a morning flight. Then he said and I quote, "I would rather die than get on another boat" when it was suggested that he take the ferry. The resort he wanted was booked and we had to find another with a villa that he would be happy with. After all my changes it becomes clear that their are no acceptable flight times and I will have to arrange a charter flight. I thought everything was done and ""BAM" I find out that the charter can't fly him because he would get to that airport at night and they stop flying at sundown. I call to tell my boss and he replies with something like, "Yeah, I don't think they have runway lights." Why in the world would you agree to an evening flight somewhere that does not have runway lights. Forget taking off on the connector flight, how were they planning to land the original plane?

I worked on this trip for 3 days and just when I got everything back on track I get another call from the charter company asking for a reservation number. Neither I nor the agent I was working with ever had a reservation number from them. When asked for it my agent replies, "What do they mean reservation number?" This carried on into Saturday and for those of you who are not clear, I don't work Saturdays. I spent Saturday recovering from Friday night. No, there was no party. I spent the whole night baking a sampler platter for a woman who was considering ordering from my dessert business, but first she wanted a "free" sampler. She did not say free, but I knew she wasn't looking to pay. She is someone my mother knows and therefore I decided to extend this courtesy.

My mother-in-law had been with us for month and was going home on Saturday. I wanted this to be nice day and for us to visit and say goodbye to Husband, who was working. I thought we were all set to go when I realized I could not find my car keys. I spent the next 30 minutes retracing my steps through my non-palatial estate trying to figure out how I lost them in such a limited space and periodically interrogating my 3 year old. By the time I found them in the closet, we missed Husband's lunch, but was still determined to go because I did not work this hard for nothing. We spent time with him while he was working, which would have been awkward, but I had already reached "don't care" levels. When it was time to go I asked the best way to the airport. Husband told me to use my GPS. I did. It took me to the cargo flight area that is nothing like the passenger flight area. I rode in circles to get back to the highway (we followed a plane and a rental car drop-off bus) and went 2 exits to the actual airport. On the way back my mother called to fuss with me about her friend's order.

She, the friend, had trouble with the order form and did not actually place her order until late Saturday. I planned my baking schedule and was all set to be done. I put my pies in the oven to brown and all I was going to do next was decorate my cookies. I stopped to answer the phone, took a couple of sniffs and realized something was wrong. My pies were burning!!! I have never burned a pie crust in my ENTIRE life. I know there is a first time for everything, but 7pm was not the time for this. I had to make everything all over again.

Making matters worse was that while I was sneaking a peak at one of my favorite shows, only to find out they were killing off one of the best characters. I would normally plug a show I like, but since they killed Graham they can suck it this week. I finally get close to finish and my sister brings the kids back. Thank God she took them in the first place. I go to ask my normally sweet husband to help me put them to bed and he gives me crazy face and talks inaudibly. I give him my "sweet as pie" voice and he snaps out of it and comes to the rescue.

I finally think that it is all over. I pack the desserts up, and get my kid to school, make it to the delivery and then...I lose my phone in my car. I drive a Jetta. I should not be able to lose anything in that small space (much like in my house, right?). I look for what amounts to 30 minutes. I am sure if I had a nicer car people would have thought I was trying to steal it. I went around the car. I looked under the car, in the window, under seats. I knew if was in there because my Blue tooth was still connected. Finally, I found it tucked on the side of the passenger seat by the metal rails. I just knew that my day was bound to get better from here.

WRONG! Get to my desk to find the that hotel for the trip has yet to agree to pick up my boss from the airport. That would be a nightmare- him cursing on a dark airstrip (no lights, remember?). I get someone on the phone who says they don't have my email. I wait to be connected only to have them say, "Oh we got it. Sorry, it was the weekend!" I KNOW IT WAS THE WEEKEND! I was hoping to have one and enjoy it, but no such luck.

Somebody please tell me that it gets better!

Tebow and Whitlock

I love the sports writer Jason Whitlock. I read his editorials on MSN Sports all the time. One of the best things I can say about him as a writer is that even when I don’t care at all about the topic I find his perspective to be interesting. His theories sometimes hint of paranoia, but he is fair and honest and a good read. Even when I disagree, I can’t help but to like the guy and boy did I disagree with him last week. He made me so mad that I had taken yesterday off from my blog just to make sure I did not say something crazy that I would later regret.

Jason Whitlock pulled a Bill Maher on me. I used to be pretty fond of Bill Maher despite is clear anti-Christian attitude. I don’t fault people for not believing. The Bible says that someone has got to go to Hell and as long as there are atheists that somebody doesn’t have to be me. I can also appreciate a good argument and unlike some of my peers can see the non-believer’s point that most of what we believe sounds crazy when taken without faith. 

If someone told me a teenage virgin gave birth to baby that was really God and that baby grew up and performed miracles, but somehow was broke and homeless. This all knowing God as man also let himself be “betrayed”, arrested and killed for crimes he did not commit then rose from the grave 3 days later and appeared to his friends who saw him ascend into heaven only to later have them report being filled with His Holy Spirit, who is also a separate yet equal part of His God Trinity. I can see how this story seems far-fetched and under normal circumstances I would agree that it is pretty preposterous, but for some reason I believe this story whole-heartedly. It is this story that gives me hope and strength and makes it possible to believe in better days to come. I don’t mock those who don’t believe and since they are often the once complaining of intolerance I expect them to treat my beliefs with the same respect they desire.

That is where Bill Maher crossed me. I was watching his show in 2008 before the presidential elections and he went off on how he can’t understand how seemingly intelligent people could believe in “the God story”. He also seemed to revel in his belief that despite his statements to the contrary that President Obama was not really a believer. That every time he is asked he mentions his mother being a secular humanist and that Pres. Obama mentions it with a wink and a smile like he is getting one by us.  He went on for a few more minutes that seemed like hours about his movie on religion and how every culture has a story and that he always knew that religion was ridiculous and continued to insult those that believe.  I finally could not take it anymore and turned it off never to tune into him again. It is one thing to disagree with me, but it is another to continually insult me and my intelligence. That is something that I just can’t stand for. I don’t insult those who hope death is the end because that way they won’t have to answer for what they did in life and expect that same simple courtesy.

This memory came flooding back to me as a read Mr. Whitlock’s article on Tim Tebow, a subject that keeps being shoved down my throat despite my lack of interest in football (Thanks NBA strike!) His argument is that Tim Tebow is not so much a product of his faith as a product of a stable two parent home. I understand his points on maturity and manhood, but as a person of faith I have to point out that the belief that you can pull off a fourth quarter miracle when even says it’s over is the result of faith. The belief in infinite possibilities when people say you don’t have what it takes to make it in the league is the result of faith. I think Tim must have great parents. They raised him well and taught him the importance of hard work and discipline, but even the best parents can’t instill faith. That is God given in the measure we can handle. I have never watched a game, but from what I hear Tim has enough faith to go out there and play a position that many thought him unqualified to play and keep going at it when the game should be over. (That is not to say that the others on his team don’t deserve praise because I hear the defense has been killer this year and have made the come from behind wins possible.)Faith keeps you from panicking in the clutch. Faith keeps you focused.

I am not about to stop reading the Whitlock column and would even encourage others to read it because even though I don’t think he is right to dismiss the impact of Tim’s faith, in the end he really did not insult me for believing (a la Bill Maher) and if he can respect my choice to believe I can respect his point of view.

Blessings

I took yesterday off because I have to admit that I was feeling a little burnt out. Not because of blogging, but because every now and then my mind just feels really cluttered and I needed some time and some sleep so that I could sort things out. During my time off I was reminded of something that I heard Joel Osteen say this Sunday. (Husband thought he had strep throat and so we went to TeleChurch this Sunday. Hallelujah! Amen.) He mentioned taking things for granted that you once cherished and I realized that I was doing the same thing with my faith.

I had someone ask me about faith once and as I was trying to explain that you have to try and the more you see it working the bigger it gets the person asked, “So you get everything that you ask for?” I looked and took a deep breath and realized that I was going to have to be honest. I said, “Pretty much, yeah.” He responded with an, “Oh” and walked away. The truth is that I don’t think of God some kind of ATM or omniscient Santa. I am not in it for what I can get out of Christianity. Trust me when I tell you that it would not be worth it to fake it just for the stuff. I would have also argued that I appreciate everything he has ever done for me, but once I got to thinking I had to admit that it was just like Joel Osteen said – after a while you start to take miracles for granted.

I remember when I first gave my life to God. You would have thought that I had discovered the cure for cancer. I could barely contain myself because I was so happy. I had been brought back from the brink of spiritual death and real life sluttiness and been given a second chance. If felt good, but I have to admit that now there are some days I don’t even think about what a great gift I’ve been given. I take His love for granted as a given that should be there. It has happened with other things, too. We spent over a year looking for a house and we found our “perfect” house in just enough time to buy and get settled before LoLo was born. When I was so sick that I shook and could barely walk I found comfort in His word and the songs that I know from church. He has saved the lives and livelihoods of family and friends and with each blessing I promise to never take Him or His love for granted again, but I always do.

You stop seeing the house as a gift and start focusing on all the things you don’t like and the wall colors and wallpaper that you want to change. You stop thinking about the healing and focus on how out of shape you have gotten because you couldn’t work out. There always seems to come a time when that miracle is no longer enough for us to be impressed. We are just never satisfied with what we have. We get used to the good life and start to treat the Cheerios like White Label cereal and then the caviar like Cheerios.

I had been thinking about all of this and about some things that I have been wanting and hoping for. I have been wanting to make a little more money from my dessert business and I have been trying to figure out how I can get my licensure stuff together. All of this was in my head before I went to bed and by this morning I got a call asking me about a dessert buffet and an email discussing a position that could help me get my paperwork done. Every time I talk to Him and trust Him He pulls through for me. This time I am going to try my best not to forget and not let the new car scent wear off this time.

Office Party

I was hoping to get off early today so that I can go shopping for something to wear to my office Holiday Party. That did not happen, but maybe I can talk Husband into hitting up the mall with me tonight.

Today is my very best friends birthday and I hate that we are so far apart from each other. I would much rather spend the weekend with her than with the people I see every week Monday-Friday. I mean, really, office parties are so fake. They are just never fun for me. They are always full of awkward conversations with people that I barely talk to and being "introduced" to spouses that I have met like 3 times before.

Even being with my friends is weird because after we meet up and give each other the once over we end up just standing around in huddle. We occasionally break up and tackle trying to be seen and talking to people, but we always end up back in the huddle. We never really get to be ourselves, you know, dancing, singing, hanging loose because we are surrounded by people that we are going to have to try to be professional with come Monday.

I have seen what happens to people who forget they are at a work event and drop their game face. It is like Monday morning quarterbacking. Everyone has something to say and whether people admit it or not it effects your career. Think about it. Do you really want that table dancing drunk girl or that guy who puked in the bushes running your HR department? Everyone in this room knows that they are being watched and is pretending to be having a good time swimming in this fishbowl.

So why are we calling this a party? Parties are supposed to be fun. Remember?

You Stink

If you smell something funny in one spot and move to another and that area stinks to you should consider smelling yourself. No, really, if the smell is everywhere that you go the likelihood is that YOU are what stinks.

I bring this up because I cannot understand why so many people are in denial about how they smell. I am not talking about homeless people or addicts who may have either developed a tolerance or may be too high to notice the smell. I am also not currently referring to those who think so highly of themselves that they wholeheartedly believe that even their poop doesn't stink. No, I am referring to actual BO- smelly pits, weird funky must, and bad breath. I would also like to include people who are so determined to cancel out the possibility of a bad smell that they overdo the cologne/perfume and leave a trail of sneezing and fume induced headaches in their wake.

I really just don't understand how people don't know that they smell. I am almost hyper-aware when it comes to these things. I know when I have eaten onions or garlic or whatever and am aware that until I get to the bathroom to "brush my breath", as a guy I knew in high school used to say, I should stand at a respectful distance. Bad breath may be the worse because you never see it coming. It usually does not hit you until it is too late to make a graceful exit. The thing is, I would begin to question myself if everyone spoke to me tilted away at a 45 degree angle. Halitosis is real and it is serious and if you have it you should take the proper precautions. Maybe cut down on the H words or stand at arms length, invest in Trident - I mean they have some with layers now- whatever it takes. Just stop pretending that you don't know.

The same can be said for BO. I will admit that I can run for like 2 miles without really looking like I have broken a sweat, but that is not true. I sweat and I am particularly susceptible to underarm sweat. People at the gym don't know this because my workout gear is sleeveless- for just that reason. I cannot, however, come to work that way. I make it a point to routinely check for dampness and adjust accordingly. (That is right. I bend my head a little next to my shoulder and take a good smell. I also will lift my arm a little and check to see if any moisture needs to be dabbed away in an emergency trip to the bathroom.) Why is it that others cannot do the same? Why do other people think it is OK to hug when I can clearly see there sweaty pits? It is like being stuck in a slow motion horror movie and with every step you can hear that music from the shower scene in Psycho. AEHHH! AEHHH! AEHHH! All I want to do is run, but we are at work and I am supposed to be a professional, so I do what I think anyone in my position would do...I stick my right hand out to shake and hope that will not only stop them, but maybe even provide a safe breathing distance between us.

The same is true for people who smoke. I know that you were outside and that you think that the fresh air magically blows away the cigarette smoke and the lingering odor, but that is not true. You stink and when you get in the elevator to go back to work you make the elevator stink, too. If you want to air out you have got to leave the smoker section and then stand in some sort of breezeway. Old coffee breath- You Stink! I am just telling you this for your own good. People are talking about you in the office. Trust me- I'm one of them.

Knowledge is power and now that you know please stop pretending like it is not you and go get the travel size baby powder and mini bottle is Listerine. Thank you.

Post Gone

I wrote a post today. I really did. It was about how I have not been able to remember much of anything or hold on to a thought for more than a second today, but when I clicked the button to post it I got an error message that asked me to sign in again. I did and when I did my post was gone.

I wanted to rewrite it, but now I can't remember. I know that it had to do with my sinuses and me taking medication.

Oh...that reminds me about what I did on Monday. I could not breathe because my nose was so dry and swollen, but I decided to do my yoga anyway. Yay for Yoga Mondays. I went upstairs to find that my room was crazy hot. (Birkham Yoga, anyone?) I decided to do yoga anyway because losing a couple extra pounds can't hurt even if it is just water weight from sweating. Before getting started I made one last desperate attempt to improve my breathing and applied Vick's to my nose. So there I am doing hot yoga with Vick's on my face and barely breathing from sinus pressure. Not my best move.

So yesterday, I got some sinus medication, but because I am convinced the man the works behind the pharmacy counter at Kroger is an idiot and I am determined not to continue to rant and rave at them and get my poster and name on some kind of "keep away" list I purchase the stimulant free brand that they keep out on the shelf. Thereby, foregoing the ridiculous process of giving my license, mother's maiden name, blood sample and various other information just for some relief. I took it and slept through the night.

I woke up this morning and decided that I liked breathing and took another pill. Although my nostrils were clear the pressure headache did not go away. That must be what the acetaminophen is for. So, I took a generic Tylenol. The sense of relief that my body felt due to the influx of oxygen and ease of tension in my head has lead me into an epic battle against sleep. My body is tired of fighting and I just want to go to sleep. Too bad I am at work!

I have had moments of brilliance today. I helped a friend create a home buyer checklist and even helped another with the new medical benefits portal, but for every one accomplishment I had today there were at least 5 or 6 ideas that never made it. I feel like Dori in Finding Nemo or like a goldfish. They say a goldfish's memory is so short that it only lasts for one trip around the average fish tank. Today, I declare that I must be part goldfish. I had a great post ideas when I pulled into the parking garage, but by the time I took the elevator and walked to my desk it was gone. I had another idea while at lunch, but once I stopped chewing the wheels stopped turning. Every time the phone rang or someone walked by and waved my thoughts would just seem to melt away. I can honestly say that I have not completed a single project today other than this blog. (Which I have now written twice.)

I am trying to just keep swimming, but at this point I am pretty sure that I am just going in circles.

Moments

Have you ever just wanted to freeze a moment in time or see something and hope that you will always remember just that way forever. I have moments like that with my kids all the time. I see them make a face and I think, "Why didn't I have my camera?" because I know that they will never make it the same way again. I sometimes try to repeat something that was crazy or silly that they said or did and as hard as I try I can't recreate magic for someone who was not there. It is in those moments that I wish I had taped it, both for them and for me to remember at an even later date.

I think it is that desire to capture moments forever that leads people to tweet and constantly update their status. We want to remember and share every little moment. I think the idea is that once you put it out there you will always be able to come back to it. It reminds me of how people used to write detailed journals or letters.The thing is the memories on the screen become just as difficult to navigate and filter out as the one's in your mind after you reach certain limit. Some people are so bogged down by unnecessary updates and twit pics that when it is time to recall something they might as well be working with a Rolodex.

We all want to remember and in some small way  be remembered. Now we are just too impatient or overwhelmed with other stimuli to even trust ourselves to write it when we get home. We have to send it out now. Often before we even think it through. That is the problem, while going with your first mind may work for a multiple choice exam, it does not work on social media. Usually, your first thought should only be overheard by people who know and understand you very well. As messed up and you may think my blogged thoughts are, they do not compare to the first thoughts that I share with my friends. This is version has been filtered through many conversations and a vague consideration of consequences.

I lost my point because the sinus pressure in my head is now leading to brain freeze and short-term memory loss, but I think the ultimate point I wanted to make is that we hate when people eavesdrop and nosy their way into our private conversations, but then we share our most personal/ sexual business in front of millions of people just because we are typing and they can't hear our voice. Don't do it! That is not the way you want to be remembered when your next job interviewer googles you.

Date Night

There are very few times when I feel bad for famous people, but today I walked in and as is my custom after reading my daily bible verse logged on to E online. There was a picture of Ryan Gosling and Eva Mendes on what I am lead to believe is a date. Now, I can understand why you would be curious as to how two very well off and ridiculously beautiful people on a date could lead me to feel sympathy, but stick with me. While, Ryan looks cute and kind of cool in his typically disheveled way, Eva looks kind of like the crazy cat lady in a coat, oversized scarf, hat and large shades. These two could just be friends, but I doubt it and I feel bad that someone so attractive looks like that for a date. I am sure that it has something to do with trying to lay low and be incognito, but considering they probably sit outside of her house going unnoticed is probably not an option.

I feel like she must have felt as miserable as she looked. Not only was she being hounded by paparazzi, but she could not (or shouldn’t) have felt comfortable going out with her man dressed like that. I know what that is like. I just had the same experience when I went out on a date with my very hot Husband. He was of course looking like his usual casually cool handsome self with minimal effort. I, on the other hand, found myself staring into the black hole that is my closet desperately searching for something that would not only fit, but maybe, just maybe make me feel pretty. I have given up hope that I will feel hot, sexy or beautiful because it is that special time of the month where I seriously consider hysterectomy. (Don’t judge me until you have lived with my cramps!)

I realized that I have only 2 options. The jeans that fit and the jeans that say they are the right size, but for some reason don’t fit. Since we were going somewhere I would probably ingest more than air and water, I went with the jeans that fit and then proceeded to look for a date worthy shirt. I realized that I did not have a single cute top that would not require an obscene amount of manipulation to “slide” into. The disappointment was obvious as Husband asked, “What’s the matter, my love?” He is always so sweet and oddly Shakespearian when I am in a funk. I both hate him and love him for this. I let him know that while I was excited to be childfree on going out with him, I was not happy about the fact that my clothes and post-baby body did not reflect my childless and ready to party attitude. He asked how he could help and I had to tell him the truth, “Nothing!” As I turned back into the closet I heard, “I like your hair!” (Gotta love him!) All I could do was smile as I pulled it together and fancied myself up. Love is clearly blind, but that is no reason for me not to dress up for it.

This brings me back to Eva. She is smoking hot and going out with what appears to be a really great guy. I am sure that she, like all of us, wants to look good when she goes out on a date. It is a shame that in her effort to escape our prying eyes, she has opted to dress as though she is going to drop off a basket of goodies at Grandma’s.

Thankful

It is the day before Thanksgiving and I realize that I have a lot of things to be thankful for despite the fact that my mother, father, sister and 3 of my nephews are out of town. It is easy to get caught up in the wants and focus on what we don't have and what is not working out as planned, but I decided to focus on the things that really make realize just how great my life is and how blessed I am.

1. I am thankful that my children are not only healthy, but attractive. I have always maintained that parents know when they have an ugly child and chose to ignore it, but sooner or later other people are going to stop faking it with you. I am thankful that other than my son having a slight under bite that I am pretty sure a retainer can take care of and my daughter having a fat navel that I am hoping lasts until college because I don't want to go through the belly-top phase my kids are pretty frickin' cute.
2. I am thankful for nice hair. I don't believe in "good" hair or "bad" hair, but I will admit that I have nice hair. It is low maintenance and will hold pretty much any style. I have scaled down my hair regimen to once a week and I am just bidding my time until I cut the rest of the relaxer out. I am thankful that I no longer have to wait in a chair at the hairdresser twice a week. I am thankful that I no longer have to slather my head with a product that if I were to have scratched my scalp in the last 24 hours will leave me with scabs in head. I am thankful that I am finally comfortable with the hair God gave me.
3. I am thankful not to be pregnant anymore. I know that there are some women who feel like being pregnant is great and that they feel more connected to the earth and womanhood. I am not one of those women. I never had any problems being pregnant, but all I really remember is that a person used my abdomen as a condo for 10 months and paid me back by kicking me and inducing heartburn. If I were being perfectly honest going by how I currently look in the mirror when I get out of shower they trashed the place and I don't even have security deposit to cash in to fix the place back up. I am, however, thankful that I will not have to stand and cook a meal and desserts with swollen feet and holding my back.
4. Speaking of swollen feet, I am thankful that even though some of my clothes still don't fit all of my shoes do. I can also fit my rings now. I am a big believer in the phrase "Progress is progress," and all progress should be celebrated.
5. I am thankful that I can walk, joke, laugh, and complain. I spent at least one Thanksgiving and two anniversaries feeling sick and helpless. When your husband has to wheel you around Las Vegas you learn to appreciate just standing in line. It used to hurt to laugh. I could barely stand up. I remember I would sneak and try to change my son's diapers while other people were sleeping just to prove that I wasn't useless. I am so thankful that this year I can not only cook for my family, but I am expected to. There is no sense of pity or hesitation in sight and it feels good.

I hope that you all take some time to think of all the things you have to be thankful for no matter how small it may seem. One of my best Thanksgiving memories is from a couple years ago. We were all standing in a circle saying what we were thankful for and my youngest nephew said, "I'm thankful for my family and I'm thankful for my muscles." It made everyone laugh, but we had to admit that it was any thing we can give thanks for is worth mentioning.

Shortcuts & Cliff's Notes

I was in church on Sunday when I realized something. People don’t sing the hymns not because they don’t know the words or because they are too old-fashioned, but because they are too lazy. I know this may sound harsh, but stick with me because as usual I think that I am right.

Our church sings at least one hymn every Sunday. It used to be the 3^rd song in the rotation, but now it is the first. I know it is because more people participate in the “praise & worship” songs. I put that in quotes because any song that you sing to God is praise and worship, but people like to make up titles and categories so that is what I will call it. It makes sense to put those songs at the end because people who come late can join in with no problem. Most of those songs are only 4 lines that are repeated over and over in different keys and tempos ad nauseam. It is not that I don’t enjoy them, but even the most devout person would have to admit that many times we sound like that annoying kid who just keeps calling your name for no reason. We just keep saying, “Jesus, Jesus”, but we don’t really have anything to say to Him. We are just calling His name because we like how it sounds. Think about it, accept it, and let’s move on.

So I walked into church early this Sunday and headed for my home in the balcony. I saw a woman that I am pretty sure that I have seen before, but not in a while. I tend to remember people who don’t speak and then act real “holy”. I said, “Good morning” and she looked and half smiled with some kind of 4-finger wave. I sat down and tried to get my mind right because the last place I want to lose it is in church, even though in hindsight that may be the best place to get it all out. At least then there is only a short walk to the altar. Getting back to the point, the music started and I started singing one of my favorite hymns. (We sang a lot of hymns in the church I grew up in and it always makes me feel good when I hear them now. Especially obscure ones.)

Before they begin singing they always ask that those who are able stand and participate in this part of service. I am not usually on time and often come in during the singing and get funny looks from people like the “very holy” woman sitting next to me because I don’t walk in singing and clapping, but instead I sit, get my bearings and then proceed. So imagine my surprise when I looked me my right and saw that her holiness was not only sitting, but not singing either. Now this would have made sense if she did not have access to the words, but there they were posted on the huge video monitors staring her directly in the face in a size so large that I can see from the balcony with my naked eyes with vision so bad that I was once banned from driving in my home state without my glasses.

I am not quick to judge and decided to go with the theory that maybe this was just not a great day for her. You never know what a person is going through and let’s be honest about this – she shouldn’t have to sing if she doesn’t feel like it. I don’t like to fake it at church and don’t think she should have to either. The hymn ended and some 4 line worship song intro began. She immediately stood up and not in that “this is my jam” kind of way. It was more of an “I can worship now that the worship music has started” thing. I also saw that many of the people who were just standing and not singing during the hymn were all of a sudden “overwhelmed” by the Spirit. That kind of fakery just burns my biscuits. I’m not saying it is impossible, but I find it hard to believe that you went from biting your nails into full on eyes closed swaying praise in 5 seconds. It is an impressive thought, but not quite believable.

A hymn is defined as a song of praise to God, but a typical church hymn usually includes 4 or 5 verses and chorus. It will sometimes contain some outdated verbiage and instructions on how to sing the refrain in between verse 1 and 3. They are full of Biblical reference and the stories/experiences of those who wrote them. In comparison, today’s praise songs are the equivalent of Cliff’s Notes. You get the overall picture and message of the hymn, but without the trouble of reading the whole book.

That seems to be what we want these days. It is another way to maximize our limited time, right? Why sing a whole hymn when we could just sing a 2 line chorus for 3 minutes. I venture to say that we are continuing to do ourselves a disservice by only embracing the “hyped-up praise” mentality. A lot is lost in the disregard for quiet moments. It is like those people who instead of reading the Bible they pick out the verses they like and then they only read half of that and then try to build a life on it. You miss a lot when you just hit the highlights.

I think that what I saw Sunday is just an example of how the greater society as a whole is always looking for the quick fix. The easy pill diet plan or the app that will take care of it for us. We don’t need a 5 verse hymn when we can just as easily sing a 4 line chorus. Who needs to read a novel when I could just watch the movie? Who even needs to watch to movie when I am sure there is a summary on Wikipedia?

Little League

Husband and I get lots of comments about letting LoLo Monster play sports. People are constantly telling me that I need to sign him up for t-ball or some other kind of pee-wee league. Outside of soccer at the Y, I have so far avoided organized sports for children. The reason is two-fold. First, I am far too lazy and lacking in dedication for those park teams.  I have seen my sister go through it with my nephews and I know those people would hate me. I am not bringing my kid out in the rain and I am not driving across county lines just so my 3 year-old can hit a ball on a stick and run backwards around the bases. I am not letting him miss church or “forget” to do his homework just so some coach can teach him the basics when basically all he needs to know are his ABC’s and 123’s.

I mean, really, people? My son is three. I doubt he is going to break any world records in any sport this year. I am beyond excited that he has gotten to the point where he will stop playing a game at home to go to the potty. So, why would I push my luck and agree to a full season of an outdoor sport with practices a couple times a week? I want my kid to like sports- not feel obligated to them. I want him to make friends, develop interests and learn how to read on grade level before dedicating himself to a ball. I think most of those parents, if they were being honest, would have to admit that they are doing it more for themselves than for the children. They want to meet people and hold court on the field and show everyone that their son/daughter is going to be the next great whatever it is. It is about them, not the kids. I have asked and most of the kids want to go home.

My 2^nd reason was on full display this Saturday when I went to a kid’s football game. My nephew is very talented and athletic, so I went to see him play. I am already creeped out by the amount of pressure they put on these kids, the amount of money they request from parents, and the way they try to recruit and pin adult ambitions on what is supposed to be a game. In the midst of a game for 11-13 year olds there were people drinking, gambling on the game, cursing, and taunting small children. I found the level of ignorance astounding.

How lame is it to be drunk at your kid’s game? I know what it is like to have an alcoholic parent and I was happy every time my dad came out to support, but he had a drinking problem. My daddy showed up drunk because he could not help himself. These guys were drinking at the game because they thought it was cool. That is crazy to me and I am sure it was embarrassing to their kids. Then they were betting on touchdowns and passes. I am sure that makes your kid feel good. “I missed that block and Dad lost $20.” What is wrong with these people? Shouting “Give me my money” in a little league field does not make you look like the “Big Man on Campus” it makes you look like a Big Doofus. The cursing was ridiculous. There were kids out there from 6 months to 17 years. (Yes, I think it is crazy to bring a newborn out in freezing weather to watch a game, but if you are a single parent, you gotta do what you gotta do.) I don’t think it is ever ok to curse in front of children and no matter what a 17 year old tells you, he is a child by law and by train of thought. Have you ever really listened to a 17 year old? They are not much different than a 2 year old- just bigger and potty trained. (You hope!)

Then there was the taunting. It is just pathetic for a grown man to take pleasure in seeing a little kid loose. The women weren’t much better – cursing and talking smack as we walked out the stadium. I am all about kids learning to lose gracefully and I don’t believe in coddling kids by not taking score and other foolishness, but I think adults should behave better than children. Just think how your kid would feel if they lost. You would hate for an adult to scream and be all in their face.

It was then that I knew I could not sign my sweet boy up for one of these leagues. He is fine to play at the Y and for whatever school until he reaches the age where he can tell me that this is what he wants to be a part of. I just could not live with him or myself to that spectacle. I am clearly going to need more time to prepare us both. I really don’t want to get arrested because I shanked a grown man for being inebriated and talking smack to my Monster. It could happen because I don’t play when it comes to my babies. I can tell the coach to take them out the game, but you better keep your pie hole shut. I have some time before Paul has to get involved with a league. At least I have time to hope the parents I saw last week will have aged out before we get to the park.

My Boundaries

I had to ask myself the other day, "Just how much am I willing to share on this blog?" I am probably way too comfortable talking about myself, but I do realize that I sometimes have to involve others in my efforts to prove the worldwide conspiracy to make me crazy. So I have figured out that I have three boundaries. For me they are more like moral guidelines.

1. I will not embarrass God. I am a Christian girl although I am constantly embarrassed by my brethren and their crazy rhetoric. I believe that is my job to live in such a way as to point people towards His loving embrace. It is His job to tell you how to live. I will never deny my love for Christ and it is my sincere desire not to make Him look bad by saying hurtful, CRAZY, and/or hateful things. Considering, I believe he left heaven to come and die for ME (and you to, I guess) that is the least I could do.

2. I will not say anything that would make my mother cry. This is harder than it sounds considering she is both extra-sensitive and my greatest source of comedic material. My mother makes me crazy and says things that just beg to be repeated, but she is my mother and despite her best efforts to drive me BANANAS (yep, I just hummed Hollaback Girl to spell that) I love her. (See kids, brainwashing and guilt work! Go home and try it on your own kids.) I still plan to repeat most of what she says, but in a way that will continue to keep me out of therapy.

3. Lastly, but by no means less importantly, I will not write things that will lead to divorce talk. This is not that hard considering Husband is by far one of the most understanding people ever. The bonus is that he is also easily amused by my shenanigans, but I must admit that I am always conscious of the fact that he is a regular reader. I have one relationship rule that I think every woman would benefit from instituting, "Never embarrass a man in front of his boys." I am pretty sure that that rule carries over to the Internet where his boys, his mama and all of Eastern Europe can see my tirade about how he did not clean the lint trap.

So there you have it. Everything else is pretty much fair game. My friends know that I sometimes use what they say, but I am pretty sure that they trust me not to violate anything said in confidence. I also don't badmouth them because I am generally at 5"2' I am at a pretty steep height weight disadvantage and who wants to blog about getting beat up in the Ladies Room?

College at 55

Husband and I were talking before Suga Booga was born about whether or not she was going to our last gift to humanity. He was determined that she should be, but I was still thinking about our plans for 4. I never really thought we would have children, but I always said that if I had one I would have 4. We currently have 2 and every now and then I hint that we should adopt twins to complete the dream (twin boys to be exact.) Our discussion ended with Husband saying that he thought we should stick with 2 because we only have one more spare bedroom in our house and babies cost money. He promised that he would not get old and resentful about it (I, however, did not make any promises to drop it) and I thought the conversation was over. A day or two passed and we were going through our nightly routine of tooth-brushing and such when all of sudden he blurted out from the shower:

“55!”

All I could do was ask him what he was talking about. He responded that he had done the math and if we were to have our 4 “we” (like we are the same age. HA!) would be 55 when the last one graduated and he did not want to be going to college at 55. I pointed out that my dad was 40 when I was born and therefore 57 when I went to college and he responded with something along the lines of, “That was great for him, but I am not trying to do all of that.”

The problem is that despite his brilliance, my dear Husband is delusional. He is under the impression that once our dear, sweet, glorious children graduate we will somehow be free. I just don’t have the heart to tell him that that is not likely to happen. My siblings and I are grown adults with families and we still rely on our parents for so much. His sister is the same way. Everyone I know dips in the parent pool every now and then. Be honest even if it is just for free room painting, babysitting, driving your car to the shop, Sky Miles points or free food and laundry. Everyone comes home again at some point.

I come from a family that believes that parenting is a life-long job and I hold no expectations that my children will ever truly outgrow a need for me. Don’t get me wrong. I think that parents should raise children who can live on their own and have jobs and fend for themselves, but at no point in my life did I ever think that the safety net that I refer to as Mommy and Daddy would ever not be there.

That is what I am trying to get through to him. The truth is that whether or not we have 4 or stick with 2, our life as a carefree couple is over. We are now and forever more parents, so he might as well invite 2 more ‘cause either way “the party don’t stop and the party don’t quit!”

Can you believe this is my 71^st post? It doesn’t feel like it has been that long, but I saw it when I signed in today so it must be true! Thanks for reading and for your comments and if you see something you like I hope you pass it on.

“Til tomorrow…

Golddigger Expiration Date

People often laugh when I reveal that I once told Husband, "I'm not going to be this cute forever and I am not going to waste all my good years on you." I did not say it as an ultimatum. I felt he deserved to know the truth. I followed it with this, "I know me and if we were to date for like 5, 10, 20 years and then you were to change your mind and decide it wasn't working I would not take it well and I don't want to end up old and bitter and with no other options because I spent my "good" years waiting on you."

The thing is, I realize that there is an expiration date on "young and sexy". My friend and I used to joke that we should just forget about school and become mid-life crisis replacement wives for man who wanted to trade his 40 (year old wife) for 2 20's. It sounds funny, but it highlights a truth that many of us try to ignore, even if you look good for a 40-45 year old, you are still 45, not 25. A prime example would be Cameron Diaz. She as a really tight body for someone knocking on 40, but she is no competition for 20 year old Cameron. The thing is, there will always be someone younger to take your place as the hot new thing and if you are not prepared to move on to become something else you are going to be in a world of trouble.

This brings me to my point. What happens when a woman who was making her way in life based on her looks do when she is no longer the hot young ticket? Do you just make the targets older? That is what you think, but dirty old men want the same girl that the young playas want. Take J. Howard Marshall. That man was as old and Methuselah, but when he wanted a younger woman he did not go for the "looks good for her age" still kind of inappropriate 40 or 50 year old. No, he went for the 20 year old Anna Nicole Smith. It did not matter that she was a stripper. She was young and hot and needed him. That is what makes a good trophy wife. Nobody wants middle-aged and desperate/needy. You either marry him now and milk that prenup (f you get him early enough you may not even have to sign on the dotted line) or you start thinking about developing some skills you can put on a resume.

So what recourse does an aging golddigger have? Well, thank God for reality television because she can now aspire to go onto Basketball Wives, Real Housewives of Somewhere, or Millionaire Matchmaker. Did you forget to put away some money when you dated that baller? Don't worry! Just be willing to exploit what little pull you have left for the cameras. It is better than stripping, right? At least you will keep you dignity. I am not downing all golddiggers. I think it is a great job if you can get it and it is much more work than people give a girl credit for, but I am laughing at the one's who think life is sweet and that their vixen status is going to last forever. (Even the Video Vixen knew she was going to need to write a book and collect some royalties.)

I know some of you are thinking that your guy is different, but he probably is not. Just look at Bill Maher. He loves a good lease, but you never see him in line to buy. Remember when his ex sued because she thought he was going to marry her. She wasted many of her good digging years waiting for him to pop the question and was sorely disappointed when her warranty ran out before the ring came. There is a limit to how long you qualify as a trophy wife and that starts around the time the Botox commercial start to seem interesting. So either fully commit and start milking that cow or stop letting good dudes pass you by because trust me they will more than likely be taken by one of those potential seeking women when you decide to "settle for less."

Without a plan you will just wind up being one of those girls who looks like they were ridden hard and hung up wet! ( I stole that from my girl, JJ Santana.) And trust me, you will be drying alone.

So 5 Seconds Ago

I realized when I got home on Friday that I forgot to post. This is from Friday.

I was watching television and saw a commercial that really upset me. I have seen this commercial several times and it always irritated me, but I could never figure out why. It is the 4G commercial with the two guys sitting at a tailgate. They are supposed to be spending time talking with friends, but they are sitting in their fold out chairs totally engrossed in their phones and their friends keep coming up to them with news that they have gotten from their phones, but the guys already know "everything" because their phones are so much faster. It finally dawned on me yesterday the reason why I despise this commercial.

It just highlights how far removed we are becoming from actual human interaction. These guys are in a stadium parking lot full of people sitting with each other and with at least 2 other people they know and they can't be bothered to look up to say anything to each other  besides, "That is so 24 seconds ago."

It just hurts me to thin that this is what I am supposed to aspire to. I am supposed to hope for a phone that will leave me so distracted that I will be able to sit next to my best friend at a restaurant or sporting event and totally ignore her presence, only to read the experiences that we could be sharing on her ever-changing Facebook status. I know couples now who  have decided to forgo talking for texting and tweets. That is just crazy to me. Have you ever noticed that you drive by 3 or 4 people in a car and all of them are talking to someone else on the phone with someone else.

We are so busy trying to stay plugged in to everyone and everything that we are not taking to time to enjoy the things that are happening around us. I'm not saying that social media is wrong or that if you are struck by inspiration at Starbucks you should not use Twitter to spread it to the world, but if you can't go to the bathroom alone then I think you should reevaluate the importance of you phone in your life. If you can no longer hold a face to face conversation without your thumbs twitching then I think there may be a problem.

I have quit Twitter at least twice before because I realized that nothing I was doing was important enough to update people about- even with only 140 characters. I want to enjoy my moments and my friends in a tactile way and not just through an app.

Childhood Dreams

Today one of my childhood dreams has come true.

I am wearing a sweater dress, tights and boots. I'm am so excited about this that I kind of just want to parade around the office for a little while. This may sound silly, but I have wanted a sweater dress since I was a little girl playing with my Barbie doll. One of my favorite outfits was a red and navy sweater dress. I can still remember being in my aunt's bottom floor apt. in the projects playing with my Barbie Living Room and dressing her in that outfit over and over again. That dress just seemed so cool and chic to me then. So far removed from where I was. It was the kind of thing that ladies on TV and in magazine wore. I knew I wanted one. (It is my sincere belief that this is why fashions keep coming back. People want to wear what they couldn't wear when they were little and now that they are grown they "bring it back". i.e. bell-bottoms in the 90's and the constant return to 80's fashion) Today that dreams has come true and just had to share my warm and fuzzy feelings.

What makes it even better is that my mother called me on the phone to tell me that I looked nice. That never happens. It is especially rare these days as I have embarked upon my "Simplify My Life, Be A Better Person" crusade. I realized a couple years ago that I was unhappily bogged down in consumerism and as such have decided to stop buying things like clothes just for the sake of buying something new. I know that sometimes my mother misses the old me and wishes I would just be dressed up for no reason other than it being a day that ends in y, but I just want to tome it down and be more practical. It is not practical to chase my 3 year old LoLo Monster around in linen pants and wedge heels. It is was hard lesson to learn and accept, but I know that now.

This is not the first time a revelation of my need for simplicity has come upon me. When I first graduated college, I realized I was severely lacking in self-insight and decided to stop focusing so much on my appearance and work on my inner beauty. It turned out pretty well for me because not only did I find myself to be compassionate and competent at more than just putting together a cute outfit, but I found Jesus (for real this time).

I, however, am a "back-slider" of sorts and at the beginning of this year I decided that I was once again overwhelmed with stuff and should begin to simplify my life. I have downgraded my cell phone to a simple flip phone. I have started clearing items from my closet that I know I won't wear again. I have lowered the amount of time spent on my hair to about 4 hours a week. I have purposely not bought anything new because I want to make sure that I clear out all the excess. I still have things from high school and college that I have not gotten rid of for various reasons. In an effort not to wind up on the next episode of Hoarders I am really trying to dismiss all my physical expressions of emotional baggage.

All that was put on hold yesterday when I went shopping to find a dress to wear for Suga Booga's Christening. I got the church dress, but the best part of the night by far was when I saw it. It was the last one. It was striped and had big detailed sleeves. It has cute little pockets on the front. It was MY sweater dress and it was calling out to me. I could not resist trying it on and when it fit I knew that I HAD to have it. The little girl in my lit up in a way that I haven't felt in a long time. It made me want to play dress up and laugh out loud. It was a dream come true.

I know it may seem silly to be this excited over something so small, but sometimes it is the looking things that put everything else into perspective. This just reminded me that no matter how silly or trivial it may seem I should never give up because dreams really do come true.

My Accent

People outside of my inner circle would be surprised to hear what I really sound like.

People constantly marvel at my lack of stereotypical accent, but I have the accent. I just know that it is one of those things, like my red patent leather stilettos, that is best kept at home. I take great pride in my accent, but I am equally proud of my ability to shut it off when needed. My lack of accent is one of the things that I was complimented on when I interviewed first interviewed for this company and during my interview for a promotion. When at work, I opt for the well enunciated high-pitch "work voice". My friends from home all get a kick out of the "voice", but they can only take it for about 5 minutes before they ask me to please talk normal.

There are two surefire ways to pull me out of my "work voice". The first is to let me talk to someone from home. My mother and girls (ya'll know who I'm tawking about) are the best for getting me to snap out of it. I can relax around them without giving any though to what I sound like. It comes out around my sister and father because their accents are even worse than mine. I don't even try to fight the power of the accent when I am in the house. Husband is from a different part of the country and has his own accent issues going on, but since his accent is less disturbing than mine he gets is jokes in. One of our famous exchanges went like this:
Me - That is just retarded (sounds like ritawded).
Him - (Laughing)
Me - What is so funny.
Him - Nothing, its just the way you say it.
Me - Say what?
Him - Baby, you can't call someone retarded when you can't say retarded because then you sound retarded.

This was followed by an impromptu lesson on diction that highlighted my inability to drop my jaw or something like that.

The second way to bring on the accent is to make me upset. Once I am angry, I cannot stop it. My accent is on and popping hardcore to the floor and the more upset I get the more obnoxious the "aw" sounds become. The problem now is that I am always on the brink of losing it at work and therefore always just a couple words away from unleashing Jamaica Avenue on downtown Peachtree Street. I can't say that the accent and not the words are going to be the problem, but I can promise that when I reach the point where I stop caring about the way I say my words I have stopped caring about what I am saying as well. That is not going to be a good day.

Na' mean?

Sirens

First, some good news. I have finally reentered the single digit clothing sizes. Zipping that skirt was one of the best parts of my morning. It is right up there with seeing my LoLo sleepy little old man walk and hearing him tell me that he will "go later" when I told him it was time for school.

Now on to the matters I really want to address. I have one pet peeve and one point of observation. As always, I will start with the peeve. (I try to end on a high note as I am sure that you read this for daily inspiration. HA! I couldn't even type that with a straight face.)

I am so annoyed by people who do not heed sirens and flashing lights from emergency vehicles. This morning I saw 2 fire trucks on full blast while on my way to work. The first was on a busy 3 lane (4 if you include the turning lane) street. We all hear the siren and see this truck headed for the intersection, but at least 4 idiots go for the turning light. I'm sorry, but is the 30 seconds it takes to let him through the light too much for you? Is your job at the Sara Lee factory (which is actually around that corner, by the way) or your morning cup of QT coffee really worth more than saving someone's life or home or both? I am just asking because that is essentially what you are saying. I am not Hindi or Buddhist, but what goes around comes around and karma bites hard. So when you are screaming, "Help, Help" from your balcony I hope so douche is blocking the intersection because he was too busy texting to notice the siren.

Secondly, I would like to discuss what some people refer to as the 80/20 rule. I know that if you say Why Did I Get Married? you know what I am talking about. It is the idea that in a relationship you will likely get about 80% of your needs met. The question is why we are so willing to risk the 80 because someone offers us the other 20? Husband and I were talking and we have discovered that poachers (people who go after married people knowingly) are masters of the job search. They always keep their feelers out for a potential opening and they present their best selves. They only have to be "on" for short bursts of time. It is like a possible recruit before the draft. They tell you their stats and what they can add to your team. They show you where your current roster is weak and how they can out-perform them. It is tempting. You could very well be trading Sebastian Telfair (and company) for Kevin Garnett and essentially prepping for greatness, but you could just as likely be drafting Greg Odom who promised he was healthy and ready for the big leagues yet still has not played a full season. The point is everyone looks good in training camp and most people can play nice when they only see you sporadically, but make sure you get the real report before you start making any major trade decisions.

4 Hours Vs. 40 Pounds

So, I read a story last week about a Senator losing 50 lbs. using Twitter as her accountability plan. I thought to myself - that is a great idea. It was one of those stories that give you hope on days when you can't seem to motivate yourself to keep up with workouts and just want to give up. She made me feel like I could do it, too. I just knew that it was only a matter of time before I could write about how I lost my last 40 pounds of baby weight and could join her in doing the happy dance.

That was then and today is a new day. It is a new day, but I have an old problem. It seems that between the hours of 2 and 6 pm I turn into a ravenous beast who can only be satiated with copious amounts of snacking. I have tried to bring snack alternative, but I eat those and the bad snack because I never stop wanting the "bad" snack. There is no way to convince myself that a yogurt is the same as a piece of pie/cake or scoop of ice cream. Any attempts to do so just wind up wasting time and adding unnecessary calories.

I have tried to just not eat any snack during this time of day and that only makes me frustrated and difficult to work with because I am either distracted by my thoughts of food or cranky because I have not eaten. Every aggravation, every assignment that I want to procrastinate on, every time I feel like nodding away at my desk I think to myself, "I should get a _____" and that thought just lingers and circles over and around me until either I give in or go home. I can only imagine that this is a small dose of what my OCD clients experience. It increases my empathy by leaps and bounds.

You know what they say about, "The heart wants what the heart wants"? Well, I have the heart of a fat girl and she wants snacks.

The thing is that I don't want to look and feel like someone who is out of shape. So the battle is on. Will I give in to the 4 hours snack attack or will I stay on track and drop those last 40?

In case you were wondering about today. Snacks won. 1 pack peanut butter crackers and 1 pack salted cashews. (I don't even like cashews!) That is my one trick. Whenever I really want to stop myself from eating or just stop being hungry I eat something I hate. I learned that in college when I had no money for food. I had oatmeal which I HATE!!!! After 2 spoonfuls of oatmeal or whatever else (just the suggestion of sardines is a party killer) and my hunger is gone. It is like my body is saying "If this is the best you can do, I'll pass." It is a dirty play, but (with 40 pounds and a whole wardrobe at stake) a girl can't always fight fair!

The Blame Game

People love to place blame. We are constantly accusing others of being the reason for our problems. Chyna and I were talking about that this morning. She wanted a Cinnabon and I mentioned a coffee roll from Dunkin Donuts.

Me – The coffee roll was much better before they started posting nutritional information on the internet. Whose idea was that any way? I was so much happier when I was ignorant.

Chyna –It was all those people trying to sue because they say they didn’t know it would make them fat.

Me – That is just dumb. Donuts are in essence deep fried dough and sugar. You could not have thought that was going to keep you thin.

Chyna – It is just like the people who were mad at McDonald’s because they ate there every day and gained weight. Remember the guys who sued because he spilled the coffee and it burned him?

Me – That is crazy. You knew the coffee was hot. You know you didn’t ask for cold coffee. People are ridiculous. McDonald’s did not make you fat! You eating at McDonald’s everyday made you fat. I get it. I know why you are eating there. You can get a whole meal for $4. French fries are cheap.  You need to be mad at the person who made broccoli $3 a pound. Stop dogging and yelling about McDonald’s and send them a thank you note because they kept you from starving to death. The problem is not that McDonald’s mislead you. The problem is that even at McDonald’s the salad is too expensive.

The fact is that most of us are not overweight because we don’t know what we should be doing or eating. We are fat because we either can’t do those things or won’t. If I was truly only eating that which I could afford I would be at one extreme or the other. I would either be obese because all I can afford is chips, burgers and chili from the $1 menu (I know they have side salad on there, but if this is supposed to be a lasting meal the salad can take a hike.) or I would be extremely thin because I would have to skip some meals to save up for a couple days in order to afford the good stuff like fruit and veggies.

I understand that we are in an obesity “epidemic” and people need to do better, but let’s lay off Mickey D’s and KFC for providing a much needed service that allows a family of 4 to eat for $10. Let’s save that righteous indignation for those who make it so hard for those in need to make better choices. That is right Whole Foods, Trader Joes, and other purveyors of organic, grass fed bliggety blah. I don’t see you sending coupons to my mailbox or building in my Wendy’s, Burger King saturated neighborhood.

I feel the same way about those fast food hovels as I do about Bill Clinton. You can say what you want about all the wrong they do, but they came looking for me and let me know that my money/vote meant something to them. I don’t think of Clinton as the first black President and especially not because he smoked a joint and cheated on his wife, but he was unashamed in his courting of the black vote. I don’t think McDonald’s is the best place to get your daily bread, but they come to us and promise food we can afford and jobs we can work in where you can go from garbage to lettuce to fries and if you stay long enough they might even help you go to college and (to quote my favorite movie) “that’s when the big bucks start rolling in.”

72 Days

I love to surf the internet while I am “working”. I constantly check People.com, Eonline, EW.com, yahoo, and msn. They are my go to ways to kill a couple minutes when I am on hold or trying not to scream “WHY?” I know more random celebrity/entertainment information than anyone I know. I read about shows I love and shows I hate. I take in a lot of random nonsense.

Surprisingly though I generally live a pretty Kardashian free life. I may read a story about a photo shoot or look at Kim’s 3 dresses, but I am honestly not that into it. I don’t begrudge them any success. It takes a lot of guts to build a brand from a “leaked” sex tape. I just am not interested in investing in that kind of success, but this divorce in EVERYWHERE and to be honest I am not sure why. I suspect that the only person TRULY surprised is Kris Humphries.

I am totally on the outside looking in, but I think it was a miracle that they made it past the 3^rd date. They did not even look like they should be friends much less life partners. They just did not seem to be on the same page at all, EVER! Besides the usual,
“I like ice cream.”
“Me, too”
first date conversation these two people did not seem to have much in common. That is generally a red flag for things not ending well.

The thing is, I can totally understand getting caught up in wanting a wedding and the fairytale ideas. I, much like our girl Kim, was one of those girls who grew up planning the wedding and by the time I was engaged had an “insert groom here” style plan already mapped out. I get it. What I don’t get is why nobody seemed to question her about if this was what she wanted in the long run.

I love my family, but they thoroughly irritated me with questions about if I was sure and questions about if I really “understood” and “knew” what I was doing. “Of course, I know what I’m doing!” I was 24. I knew EVERYTHING! (Whew. Thank God I was right this time!) Where were her friends? I am pretty sure her sister had to know how this was going to play out. That is right, Khloe. I’m calling you out because I am pretty sure you are the brains of this operation. It took you less than 30 days to realize Lamar was “forever”. Couldn’t you take 10 minutes to decipher a 72 day catastrophe? I’m not saying Kim would have believed you, but maybe you could have saved us all a 2 hour special event had you brought some of the glowing neon “STOP!” signs to the attention of Mr. Humphries.

I don’t wish divorce on 99.5% of the population. (Sorry, I will never be cool with Eddie and LeAnne.) It is not easy for anyone and the embarrassment is only magnified by having millions of people watch it play out. I really hope for her (and him, especially him) that this all blows over and goes away soon and I can go back to marginal Kardashian knowledge.

Kim did get me thinking, however, about some unions that I wish had worked.

Christina Aguilera and Jordan Bratman – Besides agreeing with JJ Santana that “he was just so unattractive that I figured it had to be love.” I just felt like this was one of those situations where he was well aware of her crazy and seemed to be not only ok with it, but well-prepared for it and she seemed to be grounded by his presence. It just seemed like a good fit.
Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins – They just seemed to have gotten it right. I was kind of looking forward to the wedding she promised when they turned 80.

Courtney Cox and David Arquette – They just seemed to bring out interesting things in each other. I hoped counseling would help them keep it together, but talking exercises will only get you so far. Sometimes the quirks that draw you in become the irritants that push you away.

Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley – I don’t know why, but I just wanted them to prove everyone wrong. Besides the kid they would have had would have had the best debut album sales ever and how much fun would that kids’ Tell All book have been.

Hugh Hefner and Holly Madison – For some reason that young woman really wanted to be with that old coot and he just could not get it together. I just could not understand why anyone in that guy’s position would mess that up and her “blind” love for him deserved to rewarded with a happily ever after.

Charlie Sheen and Denise Richards – This one comes with an asterisk. I wanted them to work under the “Reformed Bad Boy” title. I would not want someone to stay with someone doing the things she alleged when she filed for divorce, but I was rooting for the couple that ballroom danced at their wedding and made Charlie Sheen cry.

What can I say? I am just a sucker for a GOOD love story!

Sitting Too Close

I was in a crazy hurry on Friday and forgot to put my wedding band back on before I left the house. This Monday one of my male coworkers commented about the reappearance of my ring with, "Yeah, you better put that back on before someone sees you and tries to scoop you up." My response was, "Ha!"

The idea that someone would try to "scoop me up" is hilarious. Chyna and I have had this conversation before because while I am kind of cute she is without a doubt what any guy would call hot. This is not to say that I am not attractive, but I illicit more "Awws" and she gets more "Daaaammmmnnnn!" with the neck crane. We both have pretty positive outlooks and easy going natures that make guys think that we would be awesome to be dating or married to. We laugh because we know two men who despite being quite smitten would tell a totally different story.

It is kind of like the scene in Clueless when Cher is explaining to Tai why Elton would want to be with Amber.
Cher: No, she's a full-on Monet.
Tai: What's a Monet?
Cher: It's like a painting, see? From far away, it's OK, but up close, it's a big old mess.

We are kind of the same except in a less dramatic sense. What these people don't realize is they get the polished version of us.

It is common knowledge that you are supposed to put "your best foot forward" and many of us will admit to behaving differently at work. Most of us even have a "work voice". You know you don't really talk like that and that you what the person on the other end of the phone is asking really is a dumb question, but you are willing to pretend like it is not because you are work.

I can see why it is easy for people at work to get caught up and believe that really fun joking person that brings homemade cookies and loves to talk about last night's game they see at work is like that and "on" all the time at home. They would be SO wrong.

I am like the person who comes to an interview with a great resume and makes good small talk. Then you hire me and realize that I surf the Internet, make personal calls from the office phone, and took a 2 hour lunch. I know what they are thinking. She cooks, she cleans, she bakes, she likes sports, she makes her husband look bad in public, she plans to lose the baby weight, she has a job. It all sounds good, but they have no idea what it is like to live with someone who can't reach most of the shelves in her own house. Someone who constantly loses her keys. I am someone who not only needs 4 hours alone to do my hair, but I will leave a trail of said hair all over the house, your car, and your clothes. (It is a good thing that I am not a mistress.)

I wake up in a bad mood just like everyone else, but because we work together you have no idea, but I promise you Husband has! That not so sexy Queens accent that everyone always marvels about me not having. Husband hears it all the time. My completely irrational train of thought that makes people laugh hysterically are the things that Husband really has to experience on a daily basis. It would be easy for me to see all the guys who flirt thinking that life with me would be sweet and start thinking that I am hot stuff, but I know that I am only appealing one man on a long term basis and made sure to pee on that tree.

Whenever I would start a new job or meet new sets of employees I would always notice that the guys were always so nice to me and they would want to hang and we would laugh and have a great time, but after about a month or two they would always back off. I used to be puzzled until husband and I talked and I realized that they were feeling me out to see just how serious I was about this marriage thing and once they figured out that I had no interest in starting a harem they would venture off to scour some other neighborhood. I saw one of those guys today and our conversation went like this:

Him - Somebody's watching you.
Me - Sorry, but there is not much to see here.
Him - That's your opinion - not mine.
Me - (I just kept walking.)

It just reminds me of a saying I learned from the TV show Blossom in the episode where the popular girl spends the night at her house and proves to be a jerk, "Don't sit to close to the ballet. It ruins the allusion."

I am just full of 90's references today.

I Got Nothing

I have given today's post more thought than I typically would. I have come up with several ideas and I have begun it many times in my mind and it is with careful consideration that I let you know quite frankly that, "I GOT NOTHING!"

It is not that I don't want to write, but the truth is that I have not been able to complete a single thought all day long. It took me five whole minutes to remember how to find my inbox. My phone has been ringing off the hook and my bosses are rare form even for them.

Every time I go to write I just end up on People Magazine or Eonline. I even found myself on Entertainment Weekly reading a recap to a show I have already watched. So I am sorry dear reader and I hope that tomorrow will be a better day. To be honest I am surprised I was able to get this far.

I am now just going to stare blankly at the screen in the hopes that my mind will return before time to drive home.

Man, I feel like a Woman

I still remember that day first day. It was cool winter morning few months before I turned 12 and I woke up to go to school. I went to the bathroom only to find out that my time as a child was over. The next few minutes went like this:

Me - (angry whisper) Damn!. (yelling) Mommy!
Mommy - Oh...(looking concerned) I'll be right back.
Me - (waiting)
Mommy - When did this start?
Me - I woke up and it was there.
Mommy - You know what this means/is?
Me - Yeah.
Mommy - How much do you know about sex?
Me - Enough. (Talking to my mother about sex still makes my eyes burn. I have 2 kids and I would still pretend to be virgin if I thought I could get away with it.)
Mommy - Well, welcome to womanhood. (Tosses the pink package and closes the door.)

That was how "the talk" went down at my house. That was how we shared that mother-daughter milestone. I wish she had been there for me this morning when after almost 2 years (including being pregnant) I woke up much the same way I did that morning. I wish she could have helped me process my feelings of sadness and anger. I don't understand why a person who can't have babies should have a cycle. It is cruel and unfair. All the manure and none of the flowers.

To make my morning more interesting I had the pleasure of taking my LoLo to school twice this morning. I went to pay his enrollment, but did not intend for him to stay. He had a small meltdown when I told him we were leaving and the principal told him he could stay if he wore a costume because his mother did not have a uniform. (How was I supposed to know the store wasn't open on Sunday. I mean really it is a uniform store, not Chick-Fil-A. Even church is open on Sunday.) So, I drive home and return with to school with my cowboy. I did not get a picture of him at school because I was too scared to take one considering class starts at 8 and I interrupted the reading circle by showing up with "Sheriff Woody" at almost 9.

I think the cramping must have had me making faces because his teacher was very accommodating and nobody at work said anything to me about being over an hour late. Everyone has been all smiles and calm voices. You know what they say about wolves smelling fear, well, I think people here can sense when I am about to blow and they pull back just enough to prevent collateral damage.

Today was a day of FIRSTS. It is LoLo's first day at school (not a daycare, but an actual school). It is my first day back on the red wagon and it is the first time in a long time that I have not wanted to run screaming from my desk. Not bad for a Monday.

Will Work For Guilt

That is what my mother has figured out. She can get me to do almost anything by saying something like, "I just wish someone would help me," or "You are the only one I can count on." Sadly it works virtually every time. Most recently she got me to put up a glass tile backsplash in her kitchen. It looks really good and I am proud to say that I pretty much did it all by myself. (She did wipe off the excess grout and clean up the counters at the end.)

When my father came and told me I did a good job I poked my chest out a little with pride. I joked that the only reason I keep doing things for them is so that I can stay the favorite. (Not like the competition is so stiff.) I honestly just want my parents to enjoy retirement and the home that they live in. They have worked really long and hard to give my siblings and I better life and if I can install a new backsplash that she bought I will. (They brainwashed me so well. I encourage all parents to start it early. I already tell my son, "Nobody loves you like Mommy!")

My mother was so excited about not having to pay for a professional to come do the work, but I had to tell her that I cost way more than a professional if she thought about it. She paid for my elementary and junior high private school education. Clothes for me to wear when I went to public high school and a private Catholic college education complete with  out of state fees because I was not going to give up the chance to live on my own at age 17. She and Daddy bought my first car and put the down payment and final 2 payments on my current car. They paid for my wedding, helped with closing costs on our current home, bought both baby cribs and convertible bed pieces and have given me access to her Amex Platinum Card. I had to let her know that she may have by far the most expensive "glass" backsplash in the history of home renovations.

This is not to say that I don't work hard for my privileges. I put up with her meddling and make myself available despite the inconvenience it sometimes causes. The backsplash is just the beginning. No sooner than the last bit of grout was wiped off did she decide that I should resurface her counters this Sunday. She also dropped some hints about puttying the holes in wall where a shelf used to be. It is only a matter of time before she begins to question whether the cabinets would look better in a lighter stain.

I may have created a monster. You would think I am trying to get a show on HGTV! What would my show be called - "Sucker For Hire", "Mommy Dearest Renovations", "Guilt Trip". The possibilities are pretty endless, but, seriously, I am going to have to draw the line at jobs involving power tools.

1,500 Or Less

That is my daily calorie intake goal. Every day I check to see if my back fat is getting any smaller and I am proud to say that due to my new exercise regimen it is. WOO HOO! Now that I have my exercise thing going I need to focus on all the random calories that I ingest. I took one of those “Tailor Your Diet” surveys and was embarrassed to answer some of the questions even though I was the only person who could see my answers. The simple truth is that I eat too much.

I eat when I am hungry and when I am not. I eat when I am happy or sad. I eat when I am bored. I eat to stay awake at my desk. I eat because I don’t want to go to bed hungry. I eat because my son is eating. I eat because I don’t want his food to go to waste. I eat all the time. Looking back, I realize that I have always been that kind of eater, but the things that I eat now are totally different.

I used to eat and snack on fruit, veggies, yogurt, and other stuff like that, but after being diagnosed with UC and being put on a restrictive low fiber diet for almost a year I developed some terrible habits. There were days I used to long for a salad. I would have killed for some broccoli or spinach, but every time I tried I would get sick. So, after a while, I quit trying. My diet consisted of pasta, rice, bread and canned fruit. It was terrible. Now, I have been given the green light to eat all the fruit and veggies I once craved. I just don’t know how to go let go of the bad foods. They are my fall back. They are the foods that were there when I felt my crappiest and even though I still don’t want to eat them every day and begged the doctor more than once for to approve more vegetables I am scarred to let them go. But I am psyched to at the same time and I am honestly more excited than nervous.

So now, I am one a mission to replace my bad foods with good ones. I am going to get all those foods that I have been craving. I just made some asparagus which I can’t wait to snack on this afternoon.  I was all set to go and then Crazy Quinn shows up at my desk and says, “Someone told me that you will be available more to help us out at the front desk on Thursdays and Fridays.” WHAT? She cannot be serious. I must have given her the two-headed monster stink face because she then said. “You know, since your guys aren’t here…whamp…whamp…whamp”. To which I replied, “I will be in the office, but I still have things to do.” What kind of nerve does it take to ask me to go up there just because she and her little crew think they are too good? And why does everyone assume that I am not busy just because I don’t run around the office telling everyone how swamped I am and what I am doing? I don’t tell you I am too busy to talk because I actually am too busy to talk.

As if this was not bad enough, one of my bosses called me into his office to complain that I don’t give him enough notice regarding my vacation. He implied that it would be “common sense” to check with he and the rest of the group. I declined to remind him that when I started this job and asked about vacation everyone gave me the same answer, “Oh, just get it approved by Matlock” and that is what I have been doing ever since. What I did say was this, “I understand that you are pausing so that I can give you a response and that this supposed to be some kind of exchange, but it really does not matter what I say to you because I will never be right. So I am just going to respond with ‘Ok’, ‘I will work on that’ and ‘I understand’”. He did not seem to understand and then began to exaggerate about how I am not helpful despite being overqualified and probably bored. Then he tried to get me to say that I am bored. I might look stupid, but I am not and until the day I quit and deliver my “This is what I really think of you” speech will never admit to being anything other than enamored with my job.

After it was determined that his only request regarding vacation in the past was that I postpone celebrating my wedding anniversary, which I did, (Yes, I waited to celebrate my anniversary for this kind of treatment.) he went on about how they were depending on me and someone else had to set up and get it done. Mind you, the only thing he mentioned that this person did in my absence was make photocopies and mail envelopes. He paused. I asked if there was anything else. He said that was all. I immediately went to my coat and took my 2 best dollar bills out and headed for the vending machine.

“I can get at least 3 things with this” was my only thought. It was either the calories or my job because I could not risk what might come out of my mouth if I didn’t keep it busy. 1,500 will have to begin tomorrow.