Spring Cleaning

I have spent the entire day at work cleaning out all of my back work in preparation for quiting my job. Earlier this week I had one of the worst review experiences of my life. It was actually worse than when Matlock implied that I may have an auditory processing problem. It ended with the decision to have a group meeting for them to discuss their issues with me. I am not sure that I can make it through that situation without blowing a gasket and have decided that I should not leave another person with the job a work back log.

That way someone can come in and pick right up. I can't say for sure how things are going to play out, but I have decided to take this last eval as a sign from God that I need to stop trying to stay somewhere I don't fit just because I have gotten sort of comfortable and may be scared to step out. This was my cue that I need to start making some changes and a new job would be a good one.

Cleaning is the first step towards me creating a clean slate for myself. I should be getting my license approved in about 30 days and then I can start applying other places. So my current goal is to stay employed for at least another month and in a perfect world until I find something that doesn't make me want to curse and make rude gestures with my middle finger. I have held on as long as I could, but I think it is time to make a change.

Cheers! Here's to new beginnings.

Shirley Murdock

The other day as I was driving to work I heard a familiar voice sing, "It's morning...", but it did not register who it was until she followed it up by saying, "This is Shirley Murdock and you are listening to (insert gospel radio show name)."

Hearing her advertise for the Christian radio station made me laugh to myself a little. I mean, this is a woman who as far as I can tell is best known for singing the song As We Lay. You know the one. It is when she sleeps with the married guy, while she is also in a relationship. It is a really great song and her voice is phenomenal, but why is she on the Christian station. I am not saying that I know anything about her as a person and she very well could have pulled a Montel Jordan and become a minister. I am just saying that she will forever be associated with that song and that song will always be associated with be trifling and adultery.

Then I started thinking about all the secular artists that dabble in Jesus when they need a boost or a place of refuge. It is like when people go to jail and they "find" the Lord. That is kind of what happens when either your records stop selling or you get in trouble. That is around the time they record a gospel/inspirational album (I'm looking at you, R. Kelly!) and Christians eat it up. I am just saying, instead of trying to nominate him for a Stellar/Dove or whatever award someone should have explained that Jesus was not walking with him on the drug run and in the club so much as He is OMNIPRESENT and as such had to be there- 'cause He is everywhere. I am not saying that we should not support people who have made a change or that secular artist are not welcome to sing of God's goodness. I am just wondering aloud about our exceptional willingness, eagerness even to support their efforts even when they have shown clear signs that they have no plans to change are just using us for publicity or image rebuilding. (Montel- you are in the clear, R- you...not so much.)

Be honest. It is not always because we want to encourage them to keep growing in the Lord. Sometimes it is because we want to feel better about listening to that artist. I mean, nothing makes up for singing about your body calling and possibly having inappropriate relations with minors quite like telling people that they can fly. Since we are being nonsensical and tongue in check, would someone please tell me what the hell makes people think that is a gospel song? I am not even sure if that song makes me feel inspired, but I digress.

Reason number 2 is because if we really think about it many of us are feeling like if this half-baked, two bit hustler can sing about God and get into heaven then I know I'm straight. For those who believe in heaven I have some news. It is not a comparison thing. You don't get in for being better than that other guy. You both get to stand outside for being out of order. Besides, all she did was record the song. You are the fool singing and acting it out.

Speaking of the song. I started thinking about the lyrics and about the way people phrase things. For example, why do people tell you that they "slept with someone else". It is not the sleeping that is the problem. I can get over you taking a nap. It is the sex with someone else that is the problem. Do you think that by calling it "sleeping" that it somehow lessens the blow. Newsflash- it DOESN'T. Then a song I liked came on and I lost my ranting mojo.

Yup. I got all this from one radio spot. Stay tuned for more.

Over

Have you ever just wanted a day to be over? You don't really care that it is still 8, 9 or 10 in the morning. You just know that if the rest of the day is going to go this way or feel this way then you would rather skip it and fast forward to the end. Kind of like that really bad Adam Sandler movie where he gets a magic remote.

That is kind of what I feel like today. My Suga is sick and I am overworked. I really don't want to turn into a Debbie Downer and I promise that I thought of some cute funny things to share, but today isn't that day.

I went to church as usual this past Sunday and the message was all about being honest and I would like to take this opportunity to be honest about a few things. I have been having a rough time lately with regards to my faith. I still believe whole heartedly in Jesus- his life, death, resurrection and saving grace, but I was really hurt by a church that I used to go to and it left me with a "whatever" kind of attitude.

I am not a "whatever" kind of person and this left me feeling like I was stuck in some kind of existential crisis. While in the throws of my search for myself I got lax in a lot of ways and let my guard down on some things. I am starting to feel focused again and I would like to admit that I have not been completely honest with everyone.

If you have heard me utter one of the following phrases I have not been completely honest with you and would like to take this time to clarify.

1. I've heard worse - What I meant to say is that what you are doing is COMPLETELY ridiculous, but I was hoping that you would figure that out on your own. Yes, I HAVE heard worse, but that is because I spend a great deal of time with people who get high. I am your friend and don't want to hurt your feelings, but what you need to do is stop the nonsense and get your life together. Try Jesus, it worked for me and I was a total wreck/skank.
2. That's the plan you decided to go with, huh? - This is my passive aggressive way of letting you know that your idea was terrible and I am just really glad that nobody got hurt.
3. You are so not allowed to give the pep talks - Your attitude sucks right now and I am on the verge of losing my patience and calling you out. Life is hard for everyone. Get over yourself. I will, however, still love you if you stop talking- right now.
4. But, you're ok though, right? - What you have just done is NOT okay. Your living through it does not make it ok. I am just too tired to explain all that was wrong and would rather just focus on the one bright spot...that you are still breathing.
5. You need Jesus! - This was not a lie. I felt it just deserved repeating.

That is about all the honesty that I can handle for today. Love you. That is the truth!

Back on Track

I realize that my work is getting in the way of what is important. No, not my family. Blogging. I have not had the time to dedicate to my blogs like I used to. That is partly because I work for financial people and it was tax time and partly because I got roped into helping plan events for other people.

That is all about to change. I have planned the last event that I am responsible for until October. I am feeling pretty good about myself. I will have time to read People Magazine again. I am sure they noticed that their views were down.

I have sent on boss to Asia and the others seem to have something important to work on. That leaves me alone with my thoughts and things will be back to normal. I am excited. I hope you are too.

Until then, later. Have a good weekend.

P.S. My Suga turns ONE next week on Friday. That means family and good stories. I'll keep you posted.

Miss Them

There are many points in the day when I look at my children and wonder (sometimes out loud) "Why in the world do people have multiple children?" I mean, isn't it like the old saying, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." Well what about people who have been fooled 4 or 5 times. (I refuse the include that family with the 19 kids because clearly they are an outlier variable.) How many times can you fall for the cute baby trick before you can be considered the fool?

I figured out what it is that keeps sucking parents back in. You start to forget all the annoying parts of them being whiny crabby babies and start remembering all the cute little faces and firsts. You remember the first time you  saw them smile (Bubble Burster: It was GAS!). You remember the first bath, but forget that he/she probably peed in it. You remember how good they used to smell before their poop got all stinky and how warm and squishy they were, but not how hard it is to carry 10 pounds of baby everywhere from room to room.

You forget about walking on eggshells because you don't want to wake them. It is like a fairy tale...you are afraid to wake the sleeping giant. I fell victim to that trick once and I found myself doing it again the other day when I realized that  my son has lost all remnants of his baby face. He was such a cute little monster that it made me think about all those things I will never see him do again. Which lead me to think of all the things he currently does that I will miss as he grows and learns.

So far, I have realized I will miss:

"Thank you, Mommy. You're so kindful."
"I want a jelly scanwhich."
"I'm nakey!"
"Mommy, you look like a princess." (He saves that line for when he is in BIG trouble.)

There are so many new things that he is learning and I love watching Suga Buga discover the world around her, but there are moments where they are so cute that you wish you could freeze them like that. It is when you remember those moments that your resolve becomes weak. You start thinking that you could do it again and how hard could one more be.

STOP! That is time for me to phone a friend with a newborn, babysit, watch a bad sitcom, or just go look at the mess in my kitchen. I do whatever it takes to bring me back to reality. I love the ones I have, but this is a case for me in which less is more.

2 and THRu

Can't

I am so over the word "can't". It is currently the most annoying word in the English language as far as I am concerned. People spend so much time using the word can't that nothing ever gets done.

I am guilty of doing it, too. I say things like, "I just can't seem to lose this weight," but really anyone who has ever seen what I eat during the course of the day would tell you that I am clearly not really trying. I hear other people say things like, "I can't find a job/better job" or "I can't go back to school", but I have seen what most of them are doing and if they were being honest they aren't really trying either. Sneaking treats is no more going to help me loose weight than procrastinating and thinking of political conspiracy theories is going to help you find gainful employment. Yes. We all get down on ourselves once in a while, but eventually you should realize that it won't get better on it's own. You are going to have to suck it up (or in my case, suck it in) and start doing something about it. That may mean doing a job you really don't want to do or taking a leap of faith and starting something for yourself or actually using the equipment at the gym. Whatever it is it will not be found under the word can't.

The thing that I find most disturbing is the we are not content to ruin it for ourselves alone. Nope. We have to go and use the dream killing can't word on other people. You can't go there, or do that, or say that. Can't, can't, can't. It reminds me of something my college roommate used to say about crabs in a barrel. None of the crabs can get out because every time one gets close another crab pulls him back down (most likely in an attempt to climb over him). I just don't understand the need some people have to poop in other people's ice cream. Then those same people wonder why nobody invites them out. Nobody wants to hang out with an ice cream pooper. You are NO FUN! Try saying something helpful for a change.

The thing that got me really riled up was when I heard my son say the word the other day and almost went ballistic. He is just 3. What does he mean he can't. The beauty of being 3 is that you should be feel like nothing is impossible. I quickly corrected that and we came up with a new house motto. "What do you do when you don't know something? We TRY!"

That is it. That is all I am asking for, a good try. If my 3 year old can do it then so can I. Haters be damned.

My Week

I have had one of those weeks where the days seem to run together and it seems like it will just never end. Well, it is now after 5 on Friday. This would normally mean that I made it and can go celebrate my freedom. Please keep in mind that with two kids the celebration is really small. In actuality, it only lasts for the car ride from work to my house, but I enjoy it.

That celebration has been cut today. I will instead spend my car ride thinking of what dessert I will be making for a book review group. For some reason, unknown to me, they refuse to call themselves a book club, even though they read books and then talk about them together in a group. That is what I thought a book club was, but maybe that term isn't popular anymore. You know, since Oprah isn't using it anymore.

Maybe it is for the best considering the last time I was driving I caused an accident. No, I was not in the accident, but I was definitely the catalyst. I was leaving the parking area of LoLo's school and turned onto the main street just a school  bus in the opposite direction stopped to let kids on. When the bus put out the stop sign, I stopped. My stopping lead the car to my left to stop. The car behind her stopped and then the SCREECH...BAM. The truck behind the second car was going to fast and hit the car behind the one next to me. Now cars are honking, but I refuse to move until the bus pulls in the sign. There is clearly a 2 or 3 car accident in the lane next to me and all I can think is that none of this would have happened had I not stopped. As I thought about this, the bus turned of the sign and I decided, "Oh well, That jerk shouldn't have been speeding and those fools honking would want me to stop if their kids were crossing the street," and drove off.

I am not looking forward to figuring the dessert thing out on my way home, but it has to be better than this morning, right?

Student of the Week

My son is hilarious. He is so much like me AND Husband that it almost pains me to watch him. He acts like me and tawks like me, but he thinks like my husband. He does things that would never have crossed my mind. The thoughts may be Husband, but the presentation is all Janaan. He is convinced that no matter how ridiculous or how clearly not okay his behavior is that he is somehow either right or justified in his behavior and is determined to get you to see it his way. He is a natural litigator and feels that every issue, especially bedtime, is open to negotiation. He does it with style. I love his little kid swagger (He definitely got that from his Daddy) and finesse, but he may have picked up too much to soon.

Case in point. I took the LoLo Monster to his first out of school classmate party. As we walk in, the birthday girl's older sister says, "Hi, LoLo." He says hello and runs on to the play area. I hear a woman, that soon find out is the mom, say, "That's LoLo?!?". I responded by extending my hand to shake hers and say, "Yes. Hi. I'm Janaan. I'm LoLo's mom." She begins to tell me that her older daughter and her friends talk about him all the time. "LoLo is so cute..." and so she has been trying to figure out who he is and they keep saying, "Oh he is the cute one...". She looks in what I hope was mock horror and says, "He's 3?!?" I responded the only way I knew how, "Yup. He's 3." I guess she was expecting someone older.

Then there was the time at school when he decided that he wanted to be with the bigger boys and gave himself a role as a soldier in the school play. The teachers went along with it and come the night of the play I am looking for my little man to be with his class. I look and look and there is no LoLo in sight and then all of a sudden in the middle of a group of 3rd graders, who do I see? LoLo. He comes to the front and leads them into battle. It was awesome. Right up until he started a fight and yoked up one of the aforementioned 3rd graders by the collar and had to be told to stand down (twice) by his grandparents, who were hoping to keep Husband and I from finding out.

I have also come to find that he constantly talks during story time, wrestles with another boy and has been moved away from one of his friends for disrupting. Apparently, LoLo, is a Time-Out Rug regular, but when I ask about his behavior the teacher always says the same thing. "Leave my LoLo alone. He is perfect." WHAT? What is wrong with these people? What kind of Kool-Aid is my son giving pre-teen girls and teaching professionals that everyone has fallen for his craziness. He cannot possibly be that cute and I say that as his mother. I had a professor once write this on the top of one of my papers: "This A does not excuse you from sleeping in class." Newsflash- Yes, it does. If I sleep, but get an A that means it is okay to sleep. If he wrestles in class and shouts out answers and nobody tells me for weeks, at which point it is too late to enact fair discipline, then he will keep doing it.

This week he was asked to go to another room while his class finished taking pictures because he was so disruptive. He has been on time-out everyday based on the reports I get from my mother and other than help another boy with his classwork has been pretty precocious. So, what do you think the teacher decided to do about this?

They made him student of the week this morning! Lesson Learned!

Best Bad Day Ever

Last night I told myself that it did not matter if I left my phone downstairs because I would just get up when Husband's alarm went off in the morning. It will be better that way considering his alarm goes of 15 minutes ahead of mine anyway. It will be fine.

That is SO not how it happened this morning.I vaguely remember Husband's alarm. Which is saying a lot considering the ridiculously loud and blood curdling tone he chose. I must have done the thing where I get lost in my thoughts and eventually drift back to sleep because the next thing that I remember is the sound of birds. This should have been a red flag because the birds by our house do not start chirping until about 7 AM, but somehow that sound did not register. What I did notice is that husband and I raised from our pillows and sat up at the same and mirrored each others "cat" stretch (his standing, mine done while still sitting in bed). As I was marveling at how surreal and synchronized we were, husband broke the stretch and the silence with "Oh, snap! It is 6:50." WHAT! NNNOOOO!

I am supposed to be up by 6:15 at the latest if there is any hope of getting my daughter to Grandparent Daycare, my son to school, and myself to work at the appropriate times. I somehow managed to pull it together enough to get my son to school only 5 minutes late, but in order to do that I had to pass my parents house and take Suga to school with me carrying the some random phone charger that she found and I was too tired to fight away from her. As I wrestle her back into her seat, I realize I masquerading as a single person because I am sans wedding ring. I figure it is not a big deal since I live around the corner from my parents and decide that since I have to double back to drop off the baby I will stop by home and get the ring and whatever else I had forgotten.

As I pull out the school parking lot, I get a frantic call from my mother. I was late and not answering the phone, so she had gotten dressed and was on her way to my house because clearly something had happened. (She thought I may have fallen down the stairs, to be more specific) I let her know that I was fine and on my way. When I arrived, the first thing she said is, "What is that sticking out of your brassiere?" (Yes. She really does talk like that and she still uses the term dungarees.) I tell her it is Suga Booga's prescription and that I put it there to make sure I don't forget to give it to her. The drop of goes fairly well and I proceed home to resume life as a married woman.

I get home and get my ring, grab my unfinished VitaminWater and see something fall. What was that? Oh, nothing. Just Suga's prescription. ARGH! Really? Is it really going to be this kind of day? Every time I think that I have turned a corner on this morning something else happens. I call my parents on my way out to let them know I will be leaving the prescription in the mailbox. As I approach the door I notice that the alarm timer is on and I have 6 seconds and counting to leave before I set off the alarm. I hurry out, sit in the car and think, "You got this!" As I pull up to the house she is waiting outside and I give the paper directly to my mother. We realize Husband has the Flexcards and just hope for the best at the pharmacy.

I think that everything will be smooth sailing from here on out, right? Not quite. I have NO gas. I have been driving with the gas light on this whole and time and decide that I should rectify this situation before getting onto the highway. As I pump my gas, I realize that I should call work, which makes me question where my parking badge/ key card is. I'll give you three guesses, but if you know me well enough you will only need one. It is at HOME, in my gym bag. I have to go get it because the last time I forgot my card the lady looked like she was going to flip on me and I have cramps and am not going to react well to that today. (OH...Did I forget to mention that I started that week and feel like there are twisted pliers clutching my abdomen from the inside?) I go to call work and CANNOT find my cell phone. This is ridiculous because I have been in the car and near the car this whole time. How do you loose a cell phone in a Jetta? There is not enough space to loose a thought in a Jetta.

I drive out to the house for the second time, now mumbling to myself about the phone. I get my card with no hassle. As I get ready to drive off, I find the phone and call. Just as I am about to have my victory moment I remember, "Dag nab it, where is my lunch? In the house...I would rather eat dirt than go back into this house another time." With that I open the garage door and roll on to the store because I have decided that this is the last day I drive without an earpiece.

It takes two stores but I find an earpiece. As I open the package, I realize that it has a cord and I have dropped the adapter that fits in my phone somewhere in the car when I popped the container open. I search frantically for it in my hot car. When I do find it, I realize that everyone is at work and there is no point to having it now because there is nobody to talk to. Traffic was crazy. Was EVERYONE late today? I was moving, but my speedometer still said 0. I did not even know that was possible. I got off to take the street. The rest of my commute went pretty well. I got to work and other than some random questions and few assignments things were looking good. I knew today was not going to be a bad day.

Then AAAHHHHHH!! Shooting pain! I just bent back the nail on my left index finger and cracked it at the pink meet. Yup, that is blood. I go get ice and wash it out. I find a band aid and try to apply an adequate amount of pressure. It is only 10:30 in the morning.

I really want today to be a good day. I am sure that it could be. I decide to pull a Jesse Jackson and Keep Hope Alive, but I will admit that I am starting to wonder if things are just going to keep happening until I give up on today. I should be miserable, but I am just not. I don't get that feeling from this day. I also have to admit that I am starting to feel a little like Job. Did God and the devil have a talk about testing me. That is the only thing that both makes sense to me right now, while making me feel a lot better about this troubling chain of events. So I have made up my mind.

This is the day the Lord has made and I will rejoice and be glad in it - no matter what. (I added that last part.)

On Hiatus

I have been forced to take a break because the people at work have decided that I need to earn my keep this week. I hope to be back to writing tomorrow, but I know not to make plans like that unless I want to hear God laughing at me.

It is probably for the best considering I only got about 4 hours of sleep last night and would probably write gibberish. I had to stay up with a cranky itchy baby and do about a million pounds of laundry because I now realize that the only free time I have is when everyone else is asleep.

My boss has just passed by twice and is looking very suspicious. That is my cue to sign off. Later.

Real Problems

A 77 year old man killed himself in front of the Greek parliament with a suicide note that included the statement "I'd rather die than scrounge for food". We are in the middle of our own election fever in this country and a young Trayvon Martin's death has brought renewed attention to the continued racial strife in our country. My best friend in the entire world told me that her dad went to the hospital last night with what in my experience with my own father sounds like a stroke. (My dad has had 1 big one and 2 or 3, depending on who you ask, smaller ones) That gives a girl a lot to think about. I also am working 2 jobs, mothering 2 children, and going for my professional license. Add to that the fact that I somehow lost the remote to the televisions in both the "Mommy/Daddy" room and the Living/Family room and you would think that I would too busy to bother with my insecurities.

Well not only would you be wrong, but such thoughts would suggest that you do not know me very well AT ALL. I am remarkably shallow. At the moment, I would like to think of it as a defense mechanism. I will not have to think of all the other things going on around me if I just retreat into myself and my own minutia. My first reaction to any unexpected news is to reframe it to how it would effect me and then branch my thinking into how others must be feeling based on how much closer or how far removed they are in comparison to me.

With all that I just mentioned and more, including an small spat with Husband about his unwillingness to let the children travel without one of us. I think it is crazy because we are too busy to go anywhere and my Grandmother is bedridden and cannot travel to see them. (Clearly I am petitioning for them to go with my mother and will get off my soap box in order to get through this post.) By the time I went to bed last night my mind was so numb that I watched a PBS special on the elements of the periodic table. This will astonish anyone who knows me REALLY well because chemistry is the one class that I almost failed and the only Regents exam I failed. Not to excuse myself completely, but I would like to mention that my high school chemistry teacher was later fired for incompetence. That gave me a slight sense of validation.

I went to bed with a mind full of "what ifs", doubts, and worries that I tried to pray away. Not to mention a serious breathing issue due to my sinuses. You would think that would have been what was on my mind this morning, but nope. God answers prayer because none of those worries were present.

When I got up this morning I had only two concerns.

1. How in the world could the scale at my doctor's office say that I haven't lost any weight? I might as well eat crap if that is the case.
2. What in the world am I going to do about my hair? It is now BEYOND out of control and veering toward scary. I may have to get insurance before I get it done, just in case someone loses a finger or it attacks passersby.

I will admit that I am shallow, but the perk is that I don't have a worry line in sight. Feel free to revel in how much better you are as a person. I don't mind at all. It is the least I could do for you. Consider it a gift!

Messy People

I am SO tired of messy people. For those unfamiliar with the term, it has nothing to do with a physical mess. It is not about leaving socks on the floor or papers sprawled across the desk. In this context messy refers to people who constantly like to be in the middle of drama. They always want to be in some or start some "mess". The older and wiser I get the less tolerance I have for messy people.

This is especially true at work. I am OVER people proclaiming that they are never talking to What'sHerName and then by the time I get back from the bathroom they are laughing and giggling in the corner or how they are going to give TheMan a piece of their mind never to say a word. I am tired of giving pep talks and advice to people who clearly just want to fuss and moan and create a ruckus.

I know that I spend a great deal of time listening to people's problems and generally I am okay with that. That is the profession and the life that I have chosen and I love it. The problem with messy people is that they don't just want to vent. They want to get you riled up and have you say something out of order and minute you do. BAM! They go take that nugget to someone else and the next thing you hear is, "I was talking to Janaan and she agrees that Boss Lady is a two-faced crazy-eyed nosy monster." While these may be a good description of my feelings they were MY feelings. That is my opinion to share and I should be able to decide who I share them with. Messy people don't care to understand that perspective.

Messy people tell everyone the same story of frustration, usually without solicitation and then complain that others can't keep a secret. Messy people talk "BIG" talk all before the meeting and then sit and try to get others to present a point for them. Then afterwards they are back to "BIG" talk. That doesn't work for me. The last thing I need is to get into someone else's mess. When I hear, "I was hoping you would have brought that up in the meeting after she said that", or "I should have said more because she was wasting our time" I know that I am dealing with a messy person.

Why should I be speaking up for you? Why are you telling me "a day late and a dollar short" about OUR time being wasted. You just want to start some mess. Why would you tell everyone in the office about someone's personal conversation with you before you take it to HR? I love Grouchy, but he is messy and he especially loves "girl drama". I really wish that the Gorgeous Ladies Of Wrestling (I know some of you remember GLOW. The Farmers Daughter was my favorite. Loved the outfit...NO seriously loved it!) Then maybe he could channel his need for drama there instead of trying to create it at work. As of now I resorted to treating him like the clients and have started redirecting him. It works and I am thinking of doing it to everyone who crosses my new "No Mess, No Stress" boundary.

Oh look, a RAINBOW...Gotcha!

800 Lbs

I have a good friend that I will refer to as Grouchy. That name was chosen for two reasons. The first of which, is because of my love for the show Once Upon a Time (which was SO CRAZY GOOD last night) and much like the dwarfs he has no children, works all day and does seem to have the capacity to have a meaningful loving relationship with a woman, at least not romantically. The other is because from the outside (and sometimes even from my close vantage point) he is kind of mean and surly. I have come to think of it as part of his charm.

Grouchy and I usually go to buy breakfast together. He is my buddy and we talk about the strangest things. Today he told me about an 800 lb. woman whose 2 daughters have to help her lift up her arms and such so that she can bathe. The conversation started because during our recap of the weekend he mentioned a cousin who at 96 is still moving and shaking. I speculated on what I would like to be doing at 96. I said I would definitely want to be able to get around by myself. He mentioned being able to take care of things like bathing and going to the bathroom without help. I joked that at 96 I may want people to bath me because I earned it.

That is when he told me about this woman. I could not believe it then and I still have trouble understanding it now. How in the world do you get to 800 POUNDS? I have to be honest with you, my mother would never weigh 800 lbs. I would put her on a diet myself. I mean, really. At a certain weight it is not like she is going to get out of the bed and make her own food. She eats what you bring in. What is she going to do? She can't chase me because she can't move. She can't yell at me because I can leave the room and she can't. She can't call for food if you take the phone out of the room. She has basically made herself into an infant and I would treat her like one. I know that some people might think it cruel, but this is nothing like putting your 7 year old on a diet and calling her out for being pudgy.(I'm talking about you Vogue mommy!)

I am talking about an adult who clearly cannot be trusted to make adult decisions about what is good in terms of their health. This person may need a Britney style conservatorship because clearly they have lost control. As I started to get more and more adamant, Grouchy started trying to explain why they were doing it and how they thought they were taking care of her and how some guy in London had rigged his house to let the delivery people in. That only mad me more incensed that people would not make an effort to stop him. He is bed ridden. All you have to do is unplug the buzzer.

At this point I am at Level 8 and quickly approaching 10, but I looked over and Grouchy and he looked bothered. Then I realized something, I had taken his thing. He was the irrational ranter and I was the voice of reason. Those are our well-rehearsed roles and here I was reading his Aww. So I pulled back and let him rant a little. He looked pretty pleased to be back in the game.

You may laugh, but I can handle a Grouchy dwarf, but a sad one is just 800 lbs too much .