tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118829382024-03-23T11:09:51.779-07:00I thought this would be more like having a cat.Ups and downs of motherhood. For real.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.comBlogger463125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-58780146755847864172011-08-22T20:40:00.000-07:002011-08-22T20:40:10.786-07:00Sleepy headsE and Soph are both in bed asleep--probably because they both have...bronchitis. Yepper. Took Soph to the doctor today, and she'll be out of school for another day at least. It's times like this that make me so glad E works from home. I can't even imagine trying to plan for a sub this week. Yikes.<br />
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In other riveting news, we're about 90% moved in. I guess that's the upside of moving twice in 7 months. We have really scaled back on the crap, which makes finding a place for everything much more doable. Our new funky 50s era split level came complete with a storage basement--no windows, no frills, just space--which is now referred to as the bat cave. It's also handy for those odds and ends that we can't seem to throw away. There's also a little room especially designed for storing canning. So, that's sure to stay conveniently empty.<br />
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I have a handful of pictures to find homes for, and then, I shall distribute the turtle collection. For some reason they stay in the box until everything else is done. And then I get to go through them and find just the right place for each one. I love my San Diego shell turtle from my gal pal Denice--complete with little wire glasses. My newest one is from Phoenix--and brings back memories of Katy and my dad. It's blown glass, and the shell looks like a little miniature galaxy. I have one from Santa Fe and one from San Francisco. Pretty much all of my family members and most of my friends have gifted me a turtle, and I love it.<br />
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My first turtle was actually a little stolen. I rescued it from a roommate who wasn't keeping track of it properly. It was ceramic jewelry holder with a removable shell. I had it for a long time--until toddler Janz (who is now a senior--gah!) knocked over a table and it smashed to simtherines. After that, the turtles kind of kept coming. When people ask me, why turtles?, I do have an answer. For one, they remind me that it's ok to go slowly. Also, they are always at home, no matter where they go. I dig that.<br />
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Today's best thing about being a mom: Watching Matilda. Yikes. The Trunchbull is scary!<br />
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Today's worst thing about being a mom: Netflix on demand guilt. I know she's sick, but 7 hours of TV/movies is still WAY TOO MUCH. God. I suck.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-58956538232752109792011-08-17T18:06:00.000-07:002011-08-17T18:06:51.061-07:00Pork SicknessSoph kept asking me today if people still get pork sickness. I thought for some weird reason she was referring to trichinosis--right? Isn't that what you get if you eat raw pork? So I went into this whole song and dance about cooking meats to their proper temperature and what have you.<br />
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She got way confused, and said she thought her teacher wanted kids to bring wet wipes to school because of pork sickness, and what did that have to do with cooking meat?<br />
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Light bulb. Pork sickness=swine flu. I'm assuming most of you got that one before I did.<br />
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Her backpack is ready to go, sitting by the front door. We now live less than a block from her elementary school, so she'll be walking. Her friend Beesley is picking her up at 8:30, and then off to the 4th grade.<br />
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Today's best thing about being a mom: Helping put new pencils in the new pencil box.<br />
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Today's worst thing about being a mom: Worrying about mean kids.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-39462015472475174442011-08-16T15:50:00.000-07:002011-08-16T15:50:47.006-07:00I promise to stop bitchingsometime next week.<br />
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I feel like every single part of my life is unsettled. The only way to the other side is through it, I guess, so even though I mostly want to sit and bawl, I'm going to do some laundry and then unpack a few more boxes.<br />
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Today's best thing about being a mom: What? I have a daughter. Funny. Haven't seen her in a while.<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: No really. Where is she?Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-41461559726021956872011-08-15T18:19:00.000-07:002011-08-15T18:19:39.899-07:0030 Day Blog Challenge...FAILEDYup. Failed. No internet access, no time, no energy. I thought this move was going to be hard, but I really had no idea. It's not the moving so much as the unpacking and cleaning. Jesus, the cleaning. We were only in the other house 7 months. Just long enough to get it good and fucking filthy. I couldn't believe the refrigerator once it was empty. My family and I are apparently slobs of the highest caliber. I've spent at least 8 hours now trying get that place clean. It belongs to my in-laws, and I don't want them to think I trashed their house. That said, there are only so many hours in a day, and at some point, I'm going to need to unpack the rest of the boxes here--and perhaps plan a bit for the start of school. Sheesh<br />
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Today's best thing about being a mom: Going out together for lunch at Ninja.<br />
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Today's worst thing about being a mom: Having to supply regular meals even when life is chaotic as hell.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-60837924552316205372011-08-11T16:08:00.000-07:002011-08-11T16:08:13.663-07:00My carefully constructed bubble of denialhas officially popped--and been replaced with an eyeball popping headache.<br />
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Today was my first day back at school. 7+ hours of meetings today and 7+ hours of meetings tomorrow. The summer is officially kaput. My mantra for tomorrow will be (as it should have been today) KEEP YOUR DAMN MOUTH SHUT. I just can't help saying what's on my mind sometimes, and I'm afraid that didn't endear me to my new principal today.<br />
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In Sophie news, my girl is turning 9 tomorrow. What? Yep, 9. I, of course will be at work and am ass deep in moving and work prep, so the celebrations will be somewhat more subdued than usual. Tonight I'm taking her to a play (The Music Man) and tomorrow she's being taken out to breakfast by grandma, lunch by grandpa, and then out for a crab dinner with mom and dad. This is the first year she's getting money instead of presents. I just don't have time, plus she wants to do a little "big girl" upgrading to her room, so I'm going to take her to Bed Bath and Beyond for a little shopping after we move in.<br />
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Today's best thing about being a mom: Yesterday we went out to dinner at our local cowboy diner, The Market Grill. (If you want it breaded, with gravy, the Market is your place.) As we were eating, she noticed a girl about her age, sitting at a table with 3, let's just say it, old farts. These 3 guys were going on and on and on about gun control laws and political conspiracies and who knows what else, and the little girl was obviously bored out of her mind, but trying to be good. Soph kept mentioning her--worrying about how bored she must be, and taking the grownups to task for not letting her in on the conversation. One of the Market Grill's main draws for Soph is the bank of vending machines out front. When she was done eating, I gave her a couple of quarters to spend while her dad and I finished up. She came back with some kind of little sticker book, took it over to the girl, and gave it to her saying, "Here. I bought this for you because you looked kind of sad.<br />
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Today's worst thing about being a mom: Every year it seems like I'm way stressed for her birthday. It's always right when the new school year is starting up.<br />
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Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-39159001309108920972011-08-10T07:05:00.000-07:002011-08-10T07:05:55.181-07:00Watching WeightI always thought Weight Watchers was a weird name for a weight loss program. Watch it do what? Decrease, I guess, but that's a bit like watching paint dry, isn't it?<br />
<br />
It's been 6 months now since I signed up, and I'm down about 30 pounds.<br />
<br />
When I first started blogging, YEARS ago, I was working my own weight loss program. It consisted of prescription diet pills, bulimia, and cigarettes. The physical results were fantastic. I looked super. Emotionally, though, things were pretty dire. So once I kicked all 3 of those nasty habits (mostly) the pounds didn't just sneak back on. They leapt--sprinted--jockeyed for position on various bits and pieces of me.<br />
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So now here I am, 6 months into this process of trying to do it the old fashioned way--eating less and exercising. And for several months, it was going great. Then the summer hit. BBQs and holidays and (lovely) visits to and from family and the slide down the slippery slope commenced. Thankfully, I haven't gained--but I haven't lost either. To be in my healthy range, I need to be down at least 10 more pounds, and those last 10 can be a bitch.<br />
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At the beginning of the summer, I alternated jogging and swimming--like, every day--and was making really substantial progress. I even sprouted a muscle or two. But now--I've lost that mojo. No matter how long I do it, jogging HURTS. I keep waiting for that day when I head out the door and fall into a zen like stride, but so far, I can only describe my runs as anywhere from excruciating to tolerable. As for swimming, it feels great. But finding all the swimming stuff, getting to the pool and jockeying for a lane is kind of a pain.<br />
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As a replacement, I've been doing at home "Walk Away the Pounds" DVDs, and they're fine, but not nearly as effective as the jogging and swimming were.<br />
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I know it's time to stop making excuses and just do what I know works, but not today. Once we've settled in the new house and I have a couple weeks of the new school year under my belt, we'll see.<br />
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Until then, my goal is to focus on portion control--and to get at lest a bit of exercise every day, even if it's just a walk. Better than nothing, I suppose.<br />
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Today's best thing about being a mom: We're going to see The Music Man--hopefully--today.<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: School shoppingMissuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-43080004369271095222011-08-09T09:32:00.000-07:002011-08-09T09:33:08.704-07:00Because I said I would...here is day 2 of my 30 day blog a day goal.<br />
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I made the big mistake of starting <u>Catching Fire</u> last night--the second Hunger Games book, if you happen to have just landed on planet earth.<br />
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So now I need to pack and get ready for school, but also fight the urge to sit in my reading chair with snacks and just blast through that thing.<br />
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I always say that I'm not a big fan of the teen dystopias that seem to be all the rage, but that's not really the truth. I try to keep abreast of "what the kids are reading" these days, and I'll admit that the dystopian selections are super engaging. Hunger Games, Uglies, Unwound, Ship Breaker, and Matched all are pretty tough to put down once started. But they're no good for my apocolyptophobia, (I hope I just made that word up.) and like many others, I can't help but wonder why this particular genre seems to resonate so deeply with kids right now.<br />
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Soph is going to be spending most of the day with her great-grandma Gene, and I hope to bust ass and get some work done--both at home and at school.<br />
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Today's best thing about being a mom: Going for walks together--and stopping to sit under a shady tree and eat apples.<br />
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Today's worst thing about being a mom: Brushing her hair. As an almost 9 year old (!!) she should be doing this by herself, but her hair so thick and prone to tangles, that ain't going to happen anytime soon.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-74075482207313539142011-08-08T08:52:00.000-07:002011-08-08T11:49:13.279-07:00Why moving totally sucksOn Saturday, I'm moving, again. That will mean we'll have lived in 3 different houses in the span of 7 months. Hopefully, this time we'll stay put for longer than a 2 year old's attention span, but who knows?<br />
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Why the move? I don't want to talk about it.<br />
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But when you move, you have to take stock of your shit. (Why the 40 remotes? None of them work. Should we throw them away? Is Soph now ready to give the dolls to charity? Does she play with the blocks anymore? If I give away the size 20 pants, will the weight suddenly land right back on my ass? Should we go ahead and move the 5 boxes of trash from the office, again, without going through them, again?) I just did this 7 months ago, and am barely recovered from giving away the board books. Plus, 7 months ago I gave away my size 14 pants, and now I wish I hadn't. I don't want to take stock of my shit, because that means taking stock of my life, and I try to avoid that as much as possible, even if to do so I'm forced to play Scramble for 3 hours a day.<br />
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Also, the sweet, kind souls who are helping you move get to see your shit. And I know they're not judging--but I still feel the need to create the illusion for them that I am an organized, together person who stores all the batteries and light bulbs in one strategic location, rather than spread out all over the house, handily lost so that each time we need them we just go to the store and buy more.<br />
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Plus, some of my shit is private. Last time we moved, someone, and I have no idea who, packed and moved the stuff in the sex drawer while I was over at the other house. Now don't get me wrong--it was nice of him/her to do that, and there was nothing too exciting in there, but nonetheless, someone, not me, put the condoms and what have you into a box, labled it "master bedroom" and packed it into the truck. Because in my heart, I'm really a Puritan about such things, this really freaks me out. (Aside, this box was lost, and only discovered--in the laundry room--1 week ago while I was finally UNPACKING THE LAST BOXES FROM THE LAST TIME WE MOVED.)<br />
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And not to get to "men are from mars women are from venus" about it, but men and women, at least E and I, don't see the process or the work involved in the same way at all. This causes us to have to communicate; something we've studiously learned to avoid after 15 years of marriage. We have to talk about expectations and time tables and money and work allocation. I get that he's the one who is going to have to move the washer and dryer and couches up stairs and down stairs. That will suck. But so does packing and unpacking the kitchen, pummicing (a word?) toilets, and suddenly realizing that the ceiling fans haven't been dusted in 7 months.<br />
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Did I mention I'm going back to work on Thursday? And that Soph's birthday is Friday?<br />
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Pity me.<br />
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Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-78841271151898506412011-02-04T15:45:00.000-08:002011-02-04T15:45:57.363-08:00Signed up for Weight Watchers yesterday...while eating a double cheeseburger and fries from Dairy Queen.<br />
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Because I am that girl.<br />
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Sheesh.<br />
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Today's best thing about being a mom: Our first day WALKING home from school together instead of driving.<br />
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Today's worst thing about being a mom: Soph quit holding my hand (she took my hand to begin with, not vice versa) whenever anyone she might possibly know walked by us.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-78235937366791485062011-01-30T08:29:00.000-08:002011-01-30T13:05:11.362-08:00NotionsIt's so nice to have a Sunday stretching out before me with all of the housework done. Yesterday we had a couple of pals over to break in the pool table, so today, with the exception of tidying up from that, I can just sit in my clean house and not feel like I have a million things to do.<br />
<br />
So, the main items on the agenda for today are to tally and submit my troop's GS cookie orders and finish an afghan I've been working on for a few weeks.<br />
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There is one tiny little fly in my ointment, though. E bought Sophie this little kit that has a recipe book and silicone baking cups in it. I feel like it's called "Party in a Cup." It has recipes for everything from chocolate mousse to shrimp-cocktail cups to gazpacho. And I know he did it to be nice. And I know he didn't think "Hmmm. Here's something for Soph to nag Boo about until she goes mad and finally goes and buys the shit for it and spends 3 hours of her weekend preparing drippy and probably nasty recipes that no one will actually want to eat." I KNOW that wasn't the intent. But it is the reality.<br />
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I call them "Soph's Notions." That girl gets an idea in her head and is so fucking tenacious about it. Sometimes I worry that the OCD on her dad's side of the family is poking its rotten little head out. It's like she's in a constant state of disappointment because none of her visions are being completely fulfilled. From sales ventures to major theatrical productions, she wants things to happen, on a large scale, just so, right now.<br />
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Today's best thing about being a mom: Having a built-in duster.<br />
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Today's worst thing about being a mom: Sitting here trying to come up with a best thing about being a mom and getting interrupted like 8 times with questions and requests and just needing five fucking minutes already!Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-558419087115899292011-01-26T16:31:00.000-08:002011-01-26T16:31:09.631-08:00You know you were booked into a shitty hotel when...1. The hotel shares a parking lot with a gentleman's club named "Allure."<br />
2. The front desk clerk makes you line-item initial 10+ items, including "no fires of any kind."<br />
3. The room itself smells like feet.<br />
4. The view out the window is train tracks and trailer parks. <br />
5. The toiletries include shampoo but no conditioner.<br />
6. The remote is bolted to the night stand.<br />
7. There are HAIRS in the bed.<br />
8. You spend the night laying on top of the bed, fully clothed, and spend the next morning checking for bed-bug bites.<br />
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Spent an un-lovely night last week at a dive in South Salt Lake, and have been exponentially grateful for my own bed ever since.<br />
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Today's best thing about being a mom: Listening to her giggle to herself while reading Calvin and Hobbes (again.)<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: Not always, but today, freaking Girl Scouts. Don't get me wrong. I'm not a Girl Scout hater (well, not always) but after teaching teens all day, hanging out with a gaggle of giggling 8-10 year old girls for an hour brings out the <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://i281.photobucket.com/albums/kk211/corbansuicide/MrsHannigan.jpg&imgrefurl=http://connect.in.com/dean-koontz-sole-survivor/images-love-you-ms-hannigan-1-327723461188.html&usg=__p0wD8AL8QQXVygupCo_8YyJDnGk=&h=245&w=550&sz=30&hl=en&start=0&zoom=1&tbnid=T_paG_hvFkD6zM:&tbnh=131&tbnw=187&ei=jrxATfqkCZOosAP8yZmlCg&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dmrs.%2Bhannigan%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26hs%3DMEb%26sa%3DX%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26biw%3D1266%26bih%3D601%26tbs%3Disch:1%26prmd%3Divns&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=681&vpy=134&dur=1147&hovh=150&hovw=337&tx=57&ty=98&oei=jrxATfqkCZOosAP8yZmlCg&esq=1&page=1&ndsp=19&ved=1t:429,r:3,s:0">Mrs. Hannigan</a> in me.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-19993229500798839892011-01-25T19:37:00.000-08:002011-01-25T19:37:00.240-08:00Get good soon...When I'm trying to convince a class full of teenagers who really don't give a shit that there is, actually, a difference between "good" and "well," I often remind them that there is no such thing as a "get good soon" card. But frankly, I don't give a flying fuck if you want to call it good or well, just as long as some time in the near future, I can have a day or two of being in reasonably good health.<br />
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A couple of months ago it was the bizarre torso/boob rash from hell that none of the doctors could figure out. And now it's the cough that won't end. I hate to just keep upping the ante on medication, but have gone from OTC to antibiotics and now am on a steroid (Prednisol?) plus a super-fly cough syrup with codeine. The combination gives me wicked night sweats, and last night I literally (yes, literally) had to change the sheets twice after waking up soaking wet. (Either that or I grew some phantom male parts and enjoyed my first nocturnal emissions.)<br />
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Enough with the old lady health woes.<br />
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Soph is spectacular. She's in the school play (based on School House Rock...love it) and is one of the capital kids in the "Only a Bill" song. She's also ass deep in Girl Scout Cookie sales. Other than a minor incident with some nail polish and her bathroom counter, we're getting along great.<br />
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And she still keeps growing up, no mater how many weights I pile on her little head.<br />
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The older your kids get, the more you start to get your life back, but frankly, who wants it? By the time they're big enough that you have chunks of time for actual living, you've forgotten what to do with them, or you've gotten to old or rigid to do them justice. <br />
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Honestly, I think I'd much rather cuddle and read Olivia Forms a Band and make Care Bear costumes and even do all the kid wiping (noses, butts, etc.) than try to truly understand and engage in most of shit going down in the world today. Two little girls and only one crown at the play date? That problem I can solve. National health care reform? Fuck if I know.<br />
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Today's best thing about being a mom: Planning and making dinner together.<br />
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Today's worst thing about being a mom: Failing to keep us both at a more healthy weight.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-60396924092901483452011-01-22T15:26:00.001-08:002011-01-24T14:11:45.262-08:00Things that go bump…<span style="font-size: small;" xmlns="">(This is an assignment I just finished for a literacy endorsement class I'm taking. It's a bit vanilla since it's for school, but I still figured I'd toss it up here.)<br />
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I'm 35 years old, and I'm afraid of the dark. This realization came to me a couple of months ago, when, because of the time change, I found myself walking to my car from a class after the sun had gone down, rather than before as I had done in previous weeks. I remember leaving the building and suddenly feeling my heart begin to thump, and then scurrying to my car like a frightened rabbit. The parking lot of SEDC, a harmless enough space which I had frequented weekly for several months, suddenly felt unsafe to me. While hurrying to my car, I nervously pushed the unlock button on my key chain several times, and when I slid into the driver's seat, I turned to check the back seat to make sure no one with malevolent intentions was hiding back there (even though I knew perfectly well that the car had been locked). I then speedily locked the doors and drove home, feeling anxious and confused and a little disgusted with myself<br />
</span><br />
<span xmlns=""><span style="font-size: small;">Surprisingly, even after this event, I hadn't put a name to my fear. It seems obvious on reflection, but it wasn't until a similar event occurred after stopping by Wal-Mart to grab a loaf of bread on the way home from work that I realized what was going on. I repeated the earlier process: hurry to the car, check the back seat, lock the doors, and then drive away feeling equal parts afraid and sheepish. On the way home, I quizzed myself. I am I afraid of being alone? On the contrary-- I enjoy solitude, and am more likely to feel upset by the lack of "alone time" in my life than by too much of it. Could I have developed a phobia of parking lots? Ridiculous. Like most working moms, my life is often a series of errands requiring me to get into and out of the car several times a day. Then I considered why my anxiety had cranked up on this particular errand, remembered my mini-panic at SEDC, and it hit me. The dark. I wondered-- really? Was I really afraid of the dark?<br />
</span> <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span xmlns=""><span style="font-size: small;">And the answer is, unfortunately, yes. I was, am, and probably will always be afraid of the dark. When I mentioned this fear to my mom, she chuckled a bit, and reminded me that this fear is nothing new, but somehow I had forgotten it. As a young child, my fear of the dark was a bit of a joke in the family. I refused to go trick-or-treating, pointing out that there was a perfectly good bowl of candy right here, thank you very much, and I didn't need to go traipsing about the neighborhood in the dark on a night known for its spookiness to get more. I also didn't like fireworks, and one or the other of my parents usually had to miss the show because of staying home with me. How embarrassing. No wonder I'd "forgotten."<br />
</span> <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span xmlns=""><span style="font-size: small;">My childhood fear of the dark was compounded in my adolescence when I began more and more to realize how my gender made me a target of violence. I remember being warned about going out at night alone. One particular youth activity sticks with me. A self-defense teacher came and talked to a group of girls about safety. He showed us how to hold our keys grasped in the fist, creating a mace-like weapon to fend off possible attackers. He told stories of women who got into their cars at night, only to be abducted by a hidden assailant in the back seat, and warned us to keep the car locked at all times. I remember going home feeling so unsafe, and feeling how unfair it was that that fear was generated because I'm a girl, a member of "the weaker sex."<br />
</span> <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span xmlns=""><span style="font-size: small;">As an adult though, I guess I began to just find ways around the fear. As a school teacher, my work day ends in the late afternoon, and so I'm usually home before dark. When there are errands to run once the sun goes down, I generally pass the buck to my husband. Really, I haven't consciously realized how I subtly maneuver my plans and schedule around this phobia until now.<br />
</span> <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span xmlns=""><span style="font-size: small;">Another minor hint in my adult life of my nyctophobia is my dislike of winter and my love of summer time. I've long described myself as being "solar powered person with no battery back-ups" and while the cold of winter repels me and the warmth of summer compels me, I think the root of my preference is light. In the summer, there are hours and hours of lovely light, and the evening stretches on and on. It's easily 8:00, and often later before I have to start thinking of wrapping up my "out and about" activities in order to beat the dark home. <br />
</span> <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span xmlns=""><span style="font-size: small;">Fortunately, my fear of the dark is very specifically limited to darkness "out there," and not "in here." That is to say, I am fine with darkness in my home. (In fact, in order to sleep well, I like a completely dark room.) Furthermore, I'm usually ok in the dark if I'm with an adult that I know. I feel no anxiousness sitting on my back porch with friends on a warm summer night, and I don't panic in a dark movie theater. It is only in public or unfamiliar places when I am alone, or with my young daughter, that I feel the panic, the feeling of being unsafe. <br />
</span> <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span xmlns=""><span style="font-size: small;">As a result, I've learned to avoid certain things. Parking lots are the worst, so I try and do most of my errands over the weekend instead of during the evening. Anywhere else in the car is a close runner up. In fact, driving alone on the freeway in the dark is something that I'll go to some lengths to avoid. I don't go for walks alone in the dark, and even with my dog I feel anxious, so I get less exercise during the winter months than I should.<br />
</span> <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span xmlns=""><span style="font-size: small;">I do feel embarrassed about this fear. After all, I'm not five. I'm a grown woman with a mortgage and a child--but somehow, I just can't shake it. So, do me a favor. If you invite me to the movies, just casually walk with me to my car after. If you need a ride somewhere, try to call someone else if it's late. Because I can do it. I can be alone, outside, in the dark. But I'd sure rather not</span><span style="font-size: small;">.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></span>Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-6998717167769867092011-01-01T17:05:00.000-08:002011-01-01T17:05:03.891-08:00Most exhausting week everIn one week, I managed to...<br />
<br />
move<br />
totally clean the old place<br />
celebrate Christmas<br />
take care of a kid with a very ugly flu (and she's still sick. Please god, please let her get well soon.)<br />
<br />
Wouldn't have been able to do it without my family and friends. Thanks all. Going to fall over now.<br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: Watching Ponyo<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: Cleaning up shit and vomitMissuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-56591129847112566362010-12-24T11:45:00.000-08:002010-12-24T13:00:03.979-08:00Just a suggestionDear E,<br />
<br />
You know I love you truly, madly, deeply. However, may I suggest that if you find yourself drinking wine out of either Sophie's crayola thermos or a bud vase, you consider washing a glass?<br />
<br />
XO, Boo<br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: Laying in bed together in the morning reading.<br />
<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: Finding half eaten moldy oranges in the dress ups.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-2764615375001149632010-12-23T05:23:00.000-08:002010-12-23T05:23:56.209-08:00I miss my peeps...and I'm afraid some of them have given up on me.<br />
<br />
I'm not a huge social butterfly and I don't have tons of friends, but I haven't seen or reached out to those I do have for so long. And I'm lonely.<br />
<br />
Summer blasted by, and then school started, and my health hasn't been great. First I had a crazy rash for like, ever, and then the cough that wouldn't end. Add to that 3 of my besties have new babies in their houses, and now here we are, months later.<br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: Having someone to play Uno with.<br />
<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: We were both feeling sad and friendless yesterday. It was a blue, blue day.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-48010617153468824902010-12-22T14:37:00.000-08:002010-12-22T14:37:12.748-08:003 years later...and I'm looking in boxes that I never unpacked from the last move. Dur.<br />
<br />
I'm making progress, but slowly. Why is it that when I have house related work to do, I always find it necessary to play about 50 games of bejeweled blitz first?<br />
<br />
Did I mention I'm 35. Thirty five fucking years old. So why do I still not feel like an adult? Adults do things like dust the shit on the plant shelves. Adults keep their cars clean. Adults have some recognizable filing system. I feel about 19 today. I just don't feel like I will ever get the hang of this grown up thing. Shit, the next thing you know I'm going to be building a beer bong, buying a Pearl Jam CD, and heading to freshman orientation.<br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: Went and saw Tangled today. It's nice to have an excuse to see the new Disney flick.<br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: I'm going to have to go through and sort out her room. Again. Nothing blows like packing up kids' rooms.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-81568206151167650682010-12-20T11:03:00.000-08:002010-12-20T11:03:21.386-08:00Still to do for Christmas(...another list. Hey, I'm moving and Santa is expected to arrive in less than a week. Doin' my best here!)<br />
<br />
1. Stocking stuffers: I'm so bad at this! I always think I'm done, and then I realize I have nothing for stockings. So, I need 2 oranges, a bunch of candy, and a knickish knackish something for both of the kids.<br />
<br />
2. E. Darn his hide. I can't decide if he REALLY only wants the Fringe season 2 DVDs that he ORDERED FOR HIMSELF or if I really need to go comb the town for something else amazing. Maybe I'll stick some sticky bows to my tits Christmas Eve and just give him a good old fashioned jolly rogering. <br />
<br />
3. The CROCHET! Having decided to give my loved ones all small store bought gift plus a handmade crocheted item seemed like a good idea...in October. Now I am rushing to finish Mom's shawl, hats for the extended family boys, and other stuff for other people.<br />
<br />
4. Cookies. When are Soph and I going to make cookies? Tomorrow morning? Sounds good to me. We need some Russian tea cookes, cut outs (where oh where are the cookie cutters!?), and I also promised her we'd make some almond bark. Ok. Doable.<br />
<br />
This really doesn't sound like too big of a list, until you take into account that I also need to PACK AND MOVE next week.<br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: Being forced to slow down and make cookies in the midst of the chaos.<br />
<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: See above.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-24793493909952575112010-12-17T10:15:00.000-08:002010-12-17T10:19:59.023-08:00Questions...1. Is 35 too old to wear a big fake pink flower in your hair? (...because I'm trying to pull one off today.)<br />
<br />
2. Is there any gracious way to smooth over receiving a gift from someone when you don't have anything to give them? (...because I thought we weren't doing gifts at work people!)<br />
<br />
3. Is there any possible worse time to move than during the holidays? (...because I don't effing think so!)<br />
<br />
4. Do kids ever outgrow acting like lunatics on the last day of school before Christmas vacation? (...because mine seemed to have all eaten crack krispies for breakfast today.)<br />
<br />
5. Is there an age when you just say "no" when your kid asks you if there's really a Santa? (...because Soph asked me again this morning, and seemed really serious about it. And I said "yes" but am thinking...I don't know...that she really wanted the truth this time.)<br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: Singing "Holly Jolly Christmas" together.<br />
<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: Keeping the magic...but also keeping it real.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-75949424907121425952010-12-14T15:41:00.000-08:002010-12-14T15:41:35.959-08:00This is good news...right?So everything with the home sale is now official, and we'll be closing before the end of the month. The folks buying it actually wanted us out before Christmas, but I basically said, "Sweet baby Jesus in a manger. Are you shitting me?" (to E, not to them,) and so we'll be here until the end of the month.<br />
<br />
And that means that we'll have to move. To a new house. Which we decided on today. It's actually E's parent's old house, which has been standing empty. It took me months to officially decide that it's the place for us, and now that the decision has been made, I feel quasi-barfy.<br />
<br />
The pros are many. With family, financial matters are more flexible. This is good. Also, the house is simply gorgeous. Too gorgeous for the likes of me, I feel. It's plenty big, so now E's office and Janz's bedroom can be separate entities. Again, good. The yard is loverly. The neighborhood is nice. And did I mention it's only 2 blocks from my work? Pro, pro, pro. <br />
<br />
But for some reason, I'm way stressed about the neighbors. They're all fancy Mormon ladies. I am none of above. Not fancy. Not Mormon. And more a gal than a lady. I fear they will hate me. And before we had decided to move in, I was pretty cavalier about it. But now, I have an almost first-day-of-school feeling in my tummy.<br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: Who knows? I've barely seen Soph today. This morning we spent about 15 minutes together before I went to work, and she went over to her pal J's house right after school. Yesterday she spent the afternoon with her great grandma, so I hardly laid eyes on her then, either.<br />
<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: Feeling more and more out of the loop.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-48818290474936236272010-12-10T18:28:00.000-08:002010-12-10T19:31:06.424-08:00It's a world of laughter a world of tears...Lennie died today.<br />
<br />
It really shouldn't have come as a surprise. He pretty much dies twice a year, every year, so I shouldn't get so broken up about it, but every time I read the last chapter of <i>Of Mice and Men</i> aloud in my 10th grade English class, I bawl like a pregnant lady watching a 1980s long distance commercial.<br />
<br />
I always think I'm going to make it through, but as soon as George starts telling Lennie that he isn't mad at him, and that they've got each other and he tells Lennie about the little place for the last time, I start to lose it. Stupid.<br />
<br />
Then, I went and watched Soph sing in the choir at the school Christmas concert. And even though I'm not Christian or actually anything, every time a choir sings Silent Night I get all choked up. Add that it's a children's choir and my child is up there looking so earnest and sweet, and forget about it. I spent the rest of the hour, including the portion when the 2nd grade was singing "I want a Hippopotamus for Christmas"--accompanied on kazoos--snuffling into my scarf. Lame.<br />
<br />
I also bawl when listening to live bagpipes, at parades when the flag goes by, and during Emmet Otter's Jug-band Christmas. It's so bizarre. I don't actually care for bagpipe music, and though I do love my country, I'm not an excessively patriotic person. Shit...Emmet Otter isn't even that sad.<br />
<br />
But luckily, there was some laughter today too. My film class finished up Some Like it Hot, and I'll never get tired of watching that movie. So, so funny. I love how kids who think Jack Ass is the last word in comedy will totally bust up over Jack Lemon, in drag, playing the maracas. Priceless.<br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: Listening to her singing with the choir. So, so, so sweet.<br />
<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: Cleaning out the desk at school. Who knew so much crap could be stuffed into such a small place?Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-26283318067108080862010-12-09T13:53:00.000-08:002010-12-10T11:22:37.825-08:00BustedI should have blogged this when it was still fresh, rather than waiting almost a week, but I had important things to do like sleep and go to meetings.<br />
<br />
Several weeks ago, I totally rolled through a stop sign. This shouldn't come as a surprise, because I ALWAYS roll through stop signs--if I'm the only one at the intersection. It's a very slow roll, mind you, but it is not a full and complete stop.<br />
<br />
So a copper was totally hiding out around the corner, just waiting for someone to roll through that particular stop sign, and I was the lucky bastard who got caught.<br />
<br />
Of course, I was on my way to pick Soph and B up from choir, so I had to call the school and let the secretary (AKA, my mom) know that I was getting a ticket and would be late. So, here are the 3 worst things about getting that particular ticket.<br />
<br />
3. E, his backseat driving skills honed by taking Janz driving several times a week in preparation for his driver's license test, has been nagging at me for weeks to stop rolling through stop signs. He was able to contain his glee, but only just, when I reported to him that he had been, in fact, right.<br />
<br />
2. That bugger was expensive!!! 90 smacks for the ticket, and then 60 to go to...<br />
<br />
1. Traffic school! What a frigging joke. The cop teaching the class was late. His power point was from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2003"><u><b>2003</b></u></a>. Really people, for 60 bucks a pop, I feel like they can update the power point once every five years or so. Sheesh. On top of that, the dude spent so much time adrift in the land of digression, he flipped through the slides that actually had any information about traffic laws and the adherence thereof in about 5 seconds. I quit counting the type-errors on the ppt and in the handouts after about number 40.<br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: Soph's memorizing the poem <a href="http://www.bartleby.com/188/134.html">"The Swing"</a> from Robert Louis Stevenson's <u>A Child's Garden of Verses</u> for her class talent show. I really need to post some video. She recites it with such enthusiasm and emotion. Precious.<br />
<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: (Had to pause and think a while today. Nice.) I guess her sudden aversion to bath taking.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-63547223208760185432010-12-03T10:25:00.000-08:002010-12-04T17:20:39.487-08:00"HaCk--CoUgh"Nothing says happy anniversary--15 years for E and me yesterday--like a nice hacking cough.<br />
<br />
But, that's the thing about marriage. We give lip service to the whole "for better or for worse" thing, but, at least for me, that's what makes 15 years of marriage worth it--workable--hell, possible.<br />
<br />
So, rather than sitting in a fancy restaurant (well, as fancy as it gets in Southern Utah) eating crab and "remembering when," I stayed in bed coughing up chunks while E taxied Janz to karate, picked up take out, helped Soph with homework, and worked out the final details of our home sale with the realtor.<br />
<br />
And that is why I love him and why I'm married to him.<br />
<br />
The thing is, though, that's not why I married him in the first place. I married him when I was 20, and at 20 I wanted to marry him because he was sexy, smart, just bad enough to be interesting, and I had wanted to jump his bones ever since that first make-out session on the debate trip bus.<br />
<br />
And don't get me wrong. My husband is sexier and smarter today than he was then, and his bones are still ever-so-jumpable. But. But I'm different now. In reality, we grew up together. Regardless of what the law may say, you're not an adult at 20. Shit, you can't even buy beer. And the fact that on our anniversary he took care of me, took care of our kids, and took care of business is what really keeps me going, is what makes me grateful, is what fills my heart and causes me to look forward to the next 15 years with hope and promise.<br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: This morning, Soph was transforming her room into "Candy-cane Cove;" her idea of a winter wonderland, singing Jingle Bells all the while, with nothing but a few old decorations and a bag of pipe-cleaners.<br />
<br />
Toady's worst thing about being a mom: 8-year-olds are sure hard to Christmas shop for. There are no "wow" items left. Plus, she's really moving away from the little kid toys and there's NO WAY IN HELL she's getting a phone.Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-684017365188751412010-11-24T08:07:00.000-08:002010-11-24T08:07:40.993-08:00DenialI've discovered that the crocheting is actually a denial mechanism. After making 2 afghans, 1 poncho, 3 hats, several dishcloths, and a crocheted crochet hook holder in about four weeks time, I began to wonder.<br />
<br />
We're in the middle of a pretty stressful home sale...and until last week, I wasn't 100% sure where we'd be living during the holidays. As it stands, I don't have any idea where we'll be living 8 weeks from now. And at first, that was freaking me out. Then, after many attempts to get the situation under my control, I realized that basically, I have zero control of this thing.<br />
<br />
And so I began to crochet. Well, and drink white russians. I've spent a substantial amount of money on yarn and Kahlua, but have, to some degree, maintained my sanity.<br />
<br />
Soph's doing great. She loves the snow and loves the holidays. She did make me throw up in my mouth a little when she told me she'd been hypnotizing her friend "A" to stop eating her boogers.<br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: Construction paper turkeys cut out in the shape of her hand.<br />
<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: This year has been the worst one so far with her feeling left out because we live in Utah, but are not LDS. She asked me if she could be baptized the other day, and I tried so hard to explain why NO, she could not. But that's a whole different post, isn't it?Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11882938.post-40943352339607018292010-11-12T14:04:00.000-08:002010-11-12T14:04:38.095-08:00CrochetMy granny taught me to crochet when I was 10. The potholder I made took me about 2 weeks, and the stitches were so, so tight that the thing could practically stand up on its own. But I was proud of it, and my mom kept it for years and years. It was my first and, I think, last crochet project.<br />
<br />
Lately, I've decided to pick up the crochet hook again. A new craft/fabric store opened in town, and Soph and I love any excuse to do a little shopping there. (For some reason, I don't hesitate to spend money on myself at the craft store the way I do, say, at the shoe store. I'm not sure why.) So I bought some yarn, and a giant hook, and started to crochet an easy afghan that Katy had taught me.<br />
<br />
Wow, was that thing a monster. For some reason, I decided to make it about 6 feet wide. I did come to my senses, and decided that 6 feet was a long, if reasonable <i>length </i>for an afghan. The edges are anything but straight. But, it's a pretty, fuzzy green, and looks pretty on the couch, if I fold it so that the mistakes are on the inside.<br />
<br />
I made a second afghan, of somewhat more moderate dimensions, and at least marginally straight edges, and then, I started making granny squares. They're fun, and satisfying, and there's a nice sense of accomplishment at the end of each one. Of course, now I have a dozen granny squares and no idea what I'm going to do with them. Mostly, they're rugs and blankets for Soph's dolls. (Of course, it didn't help when Janz noticed the square I was crocheting, a pretty--or so I thought--sagey green and purple, and he said, "Hmmm. The Joker.)<br />
<br />
My next project is a multicolored poncho for Soph. I can't deny, I think ponchos are super bitchin'. If hers turns out, the next one will definitely be for me. <br />
<br />
Today's best thing about being a mom: Soph made me a bowl of oatmeal today. It's the first time someone has made me breakfast in a very long time.<br />
<br />
Today's worst thing about being a mom: The oatmeal wasn't very good. ;)Missuz Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02185674492467062254noreply@blogger.com0