What's Bugging Me

Alive and Kicking

2009-03-18T21:03:00.000-07:00

We are still here. I am swamped with work and other stuff and can also no longer check the blog from work. So, there ya go.

Jake is nearly done with his Kindergarten year and Anna Kathryn is a sassy 3.5 year-old. We recently got back from a family vacation to Disney World. I would link to some great pictures, except I have lost the freaking Photo Pass card. Will post one of my own one of these days.

Meanwhile - hope all is right in your world.

Summer fun

2008-07-07T19:28:00.000-07:00

Happy 4th of July!!!

Greetings from the Circus!

My little clowns!

All I want for Christmas....

2007-12-05T20:15:00.000-08:00

is to see my kids this joyful every single day.

Anna Kathryn - Age 2
Jake - Age 5
Santa - Age Unknown

A Good Cause

2007-10-19T06:53:00.001-07:00

Dear Friends,

Please go visit RUNNING FOR TERRI at http://www.runningforterri.com/ and offer up your prayers and support. Terri is the sister in law of Nicole - a very good person I know from one of my Mommy's groups online. If you have some extra funds in your paypal account, send them on. But above all, pray.

Thanks,

Kay

Are you still here?

2007-07-02T11:14:00.000-07:00

Wow, still checking back? Impressive. You like me. You really, really like me!

I'm a year older than the last time I posted. My panties are still in a wad, but over different things. Work is crazy, the new business has its ups and downs, the kids are cuter than ever.

David and I went to New Orleans to see The Police on Saturday night. Sting looks just the same. The concert was fantastic! It was so very cool to see a musical legend perform. I like being married to a music hound - I've racked up some cool performances in the last 6.5 years:

Aerosmyth

Cowboy Mouth

The Eagles
Simon and Garfunkel

Billy Joel
Elton John
Billy Joel and Elton John (together)
Matchbox 20
The Police

James Taylor

And our favourite band of all time: The ShackDaddys.

So, that's about it with me. I guess it's time to get back to work. Yeah, that means you too!

My Panties are in a Wad

2007-05-16T13:23:00.000-07:00

I know better than to get in fights on the internet. Really, I do. For some reason though, I can't stop thinking about this. And the more I think about it, the madder I seem to get.

Over at Tertia's blog, there is a discussion about a book called The Dangerous Book for Boys. The main theme of the fight is that it is for BOYS, and not for "boys and girls" or "for children". The girls are left out. We are teaching our girls that they can't do cool stuff. Holding up the stereotype that boys get to do the cool things while girls should sew, cook, and be matronly.

To this I say "Wah! Cry me a freaking river." And also "Bullshit."

My responses:

#1: Spot on Tertia, spot on. I will be getting the book for my husband for father's day. (it's the quickest approaching gift-giving occasion, as Jake's (my son) birthday is not until September.

I did "boy" stuff as a kid. played war, climbed trees, played in dirt/mud I was the best tackle football player on the street. I completely befuddled my mother, who was a girly girl and longed for someone to play barbie and paper dolls with. My daughter loves shoes (at 18 months) - maybe she can play with my mom. Although, she plays with the bat/ball more than her baby doll.

Just because something is targeted/written to one gender does not mean that it automatically excludes the other. Jeebis. All the activities defined as "boy" - even though they weren't in a book didn't keep me from doing them. Just like the activities defined as "girl" didn't really interest me. We as parents should do the role-stretching exercises, if they are needed.

This is all so very very tired.

#2: Don't the little girls in question have PARENTS? Aren't the parents the ones with the responsibility to encourage their children to be whatever they want to be? My parents certainly did. I'm 37 years old. Back when I was very young, most moms I knew were stay at homes, or teachers, or secretaries. Even with no female executive role models, today, I am a senior manager at a Fortune 500 company. I have 2 college degrees, and 2 professional certifications. I married when I was 30. I bought my own house 2 years before that. Oh, and I did all this in the very good-ole-boy Deep South. I thought we women had come a long way. However, I'm starting to doubt it if we have to not allow any book about anything be written for boys at any time.

There is nothing wrong with the title "Dangerous book for kids". Or Dangerous book for girls. Or dangerous book for boys. It's called: Free Speech. Every potential reader has the freedom to buy or not to buy the book. The freedom of choice to raise their kids how they see fit, including teaching them that they can be/do whatever they want to. There is no need to force conformity upon everyone. There are enough book titles to go around. Besides, the authors are MEN - and they were writing from their own experiences.

Exerpt from CNN.com - Girls are explicitly -- and, some argue, unnecessarily -- excluded by the book's title.

Iggulden is unconcerned.

"It's not exactly that we are excluding girls, but we wanted to celebrate boys, because nobody has been doing it for a long while," he said.

"I think we've come through the period when we said boys and girls were exactly the same, because they're not. Boys and girls have different interests, different ways of learning, and there's no real problem in writing a book that plays to that, and says, let's celebrate it. Let's go for a book that will appeal to boys."
(full article HERE)

AMEN. It cracks me up that people will scream so loudly for rights and freedoms, while at the same time trying to stifle the rights and freedoms of others. The author made a choice with the title. If it offends you, don't buy the book. Period. End of story. It's a book, not a calculated sinister plot against women.

Anybody remember "Are you there God, it's me Margaret" by Judy Blume - well that's a book targeted to girls. And also a book I will make darn sure my son reads too, when the time is right. Parental influence is far stronger than any book title.

#3: My specific reference to the Judy Blume book - was that when I was in school, the girls were required to read it, and the boys were NOT ALLOWED to. I'm not even sure what they read while we were doing the Margaret book.

My point goes back to the fact that it is UP TO US AS PARENTS to teach our kids that we want them to think independently. I want my son to know about "girl issues". We have him in a dance class, computer classes, and t-ball. We will encourage him to do the things that interest HIM, just as I will allow/and encourage my daughter to play sports, and dig in the dirt, and lift weights, take dancing and piano, along with whatever other pursuits she is interested in. In fact, I am in big trouble if she turns out to be a girly girl, because I am so not one.

I'm not so much angry about the issue of people wanting equality for girls. I'm a girl. I parent a girl. I can do anything I want to, if I work hard enough. So can she. I just think it is MY job to teach her, not to rely on book titles, or the media, or "the culture". Because, frankly, I'm not impressed with "the culture" of everyone getting offended by everything. I'm not impressed that TV shows so many teenagers having sex. I'm not impressed by the culture promoted by hollywood. Again, it's MY JOB to help BOTH of my children sort through all the garbage, and somehow grow into warm, caring, successful human beings. We have to teach them how not to bend to peer pressure. How to buck the system when it is unjust. How to be strong enough to fight for what you believe in. Teach them inner strength and fortitude.

Complaining about book titles and assuming that any title has power over your child just seems weak to me. It's buying into whatever stereotypes are out there. Like there is no acceptance of responsibility for our own actions or beliefs. I don't expect anyone else to do it for me.

For everyone who wants the author to change the title of the book, why can't YOU do the communication to your own child? If your daughter says that little Tommy told her that she couldn't build a model plane because it's "for boys", then why can't you say - yes, little boys like to build planes. But let me tell you a story about a LADY who flew all the way.....Amelia Earhart... Would YOU like to build a plane? I'll help you.

To me, THAT is the lesson that will be far more valuable to the child.

Good gravy! Have women become so weak that we now base what we can and can't do on the TITLE OF A CHILD'S BOOK? I think all the women who marched for suffrage rights would be rolling over in their graves to know this kind of "debate" is going on. Maybe we are just too damn lazy to actually teach our children anything.

I need to stop now. I may just burst!

Wings

2007-04-27T07:01:00.000-07:00

For Sunday Scribblings...

The prompt this week is "Wings". Whenever I hear the word, I think of my favorite church song. This song has so much meaning, is so uplifting, touches me so deeply. Whenever I hear the song, I feel happier, more hopeful, at peace. Maybe you will too.

(clicking the title will bring you to a webpage that has the music playing)

On Eagles Wings
Written by Michael Joncas

Isaiah 40:31 "But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength;they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run,and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint."

You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord,
Who abide in His shadow for life,
Say to the Lord, "My Refuge,
My Rock in Whom I trust."

Refrain
And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.

The snare of the fowler will never capture you,
And famine will bring you no fear;
Under His Wings your refuge,
His faithfulness your shield.

Refrain
And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.

You need not fear the terror of the night,
Nor the arrow that flies by day,
Though thousands fall about you,
Near you it shall not come.

Refrain
And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.

For to His angels He's given a command,
To guard you in all of your ways,
Upon their hands they will bear you up,
Lest you dash your foot against a stone.

Refrain
And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.

Have a blessed day!

In Support

2007-04-12T06:08:00.000-07:00

You know when you start feeling so sorry for yourself, and then something kicks you in the ass to say "FOOL! Stop your sniveling - shut the fuck up, and count your blessings!" You know that feeling? Well, it happened to me today.

So, here is my candle, lit for Snickollet and her family.

Thanks to Tertia for the wake up call.

Superstition

2007-03-06T06:28:00.000-08:00

For Sunday Scribblings #49...

I don’t consider myself to be superstitious at all. My enactments of the superstitious rituals are done mainly tongue in cheek. Need to knock wood? I’m often found knocking on my own head. Ha Ha.

YET, why is it that when I was ready to turn over my (unused) pack n play to the daycare my kids go to, that I couldn’t let it go? “They” say that when you give away a child’s bed, you will end up pregnant. And we all know how smart “they” are. Well, the good Lord knows that I can’t handle another baby at this time (or ever), so I don’t want to be pregnant. So, I kept the pack n play. Now, do I really think that is better birth control than the doctor-prescribed medication I’ve been on for over 15 years? Maybe I could save my $20 copay and just gaze at the pack n play once a day? Yeah, maybe not.

Gah, fates be damned. I’m giving up the pack n play today. I need the space in the garage. (For the new baby) Ha! Ha! Ha!

For Mel

2007-01-17T06:19:00.000-08:00

Here's the funniest picture from Christmas morning. I LOVE the look on Anna Kathryn's face.

Please note: Santa had to fire an elf due to faulty construction of the Humm3r vehicle. Santa came and picked up this lemon and left in its place a shiny green John D33re Gator.

ABC's of Me

2007-01-12T07:20:00.000-08:00

As tagged by Sarah

A - Available or taken: Taken - In my 6th year of marriage to David
B - Best friend: My Mom
C - Cake or pie: Cake - turtle cheesecake! Pie - Grandma's coconut creme.
D - Drink of choice: Margarita - top shelf, rocks, with salt
E- Essential item you use everyday: Blackberry
F - Favorite color: Red
G - Gummy bears or worms: Bears
H - Hometown: Baton Rouge, LA.
I - Indulgence: Spa Days
J- January or February: February - it's a little closer to football season, and sometimes, it has Mardi Gras
K - Kids & names: Jacob Michael, age 4 Anna Kathryn, age 1
L- Life is incomplete without: eh, I could die happy today, my life is pretty full
M - Marriage date: March 31, 2001
N- Number of siblings: 1 brother, 2 sisters-in-law, 1 brother-in-law
O - Oranges or apples: Oranges
P - Phobias or fears: Spiders and getting trapped in a fire
Q - Fave quote: "Sometimes you just gotta say, WTF" Tom Cruise as Joel, Risky Business
R - Reason to smile: Jake and Anna
S- Season: Spring
T - Tag 3 people: Shannon, Lysha, Milenka
U - Unknown fact about me: If I told you, then it wouldn't be unknown. I'm mysterious that way.
V - Vegetable you don't like: Beets
X – X-rays: Teeth
Y - Your fave food: I like everything
Z - Zodiac sign: Taurus

WHAT Like Dad's????

2007-01-10T14:02:00.000-08:00

Being the World’s Best Wife ™, I often rub my husband’s shoulders. He gets knots in them and I usually use my elbow to rub them out. Jake (age 4) has also discovered the joy of backrubs. When David was out of town before Christmas, Jake asked me to rub his back. He asked for the lotion, like Dad. So, I rubbed in the lotion (two! times!) per request.

A week or so ago, I relayed the story to David that I had rubbed Jake’s back and that he had little bitty knots in the same place that David gets them.

Well, on Monday, I rubbed David’s shoulders, and then Jake asked me to do his. (with lotion, two! times!) Jake tells David “Mom says I have nuts like you. Only mine are little bitty and yours are big.” I got a very strange look from David before I translated that I had said he had KNOTS in his shoulders like his Dad.

So funny what kids will pick up. Even funnier is how they interpret it.

Not what I thought

2007-01-01T20:30:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure why this bugs me, but it does.

Your Brain is 87% Female, 13% Male

You have the brain of a girly girl
Which isn't a bad thing at all
You're emphatetic, caring, and in tune with emotions.
You're a good friend and give great advice.

What Gender Is Your Brain?

Anticipation

2006-12-15T13:13:00.000-08:00

For Sunday Scribblings #38

It's been a while since I last posted. This prompt though, made me take notice.

December is such a time of anticipation. This year, I am anticipating so many things...

#1 Waiting for my husband to come home. He's been in North Carolina since the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and will finally come home 2 days before Christmas.

#2 Christmas. Sharing the excitement with my children. Sharing the warmth and love with my husband. Sharing the joy with family and friends. Because David has been gone, I was anticipating having alot of stress and anxiety. However, it has not been that bad. My family and friends have really pitched in to make me feel not so alone, and David has called several times each day to keep in touch and talk with the kids.

#3 New Year 2007. I start back on Weight Watchers full time the first week in January. I have lost 50 lbs so far and am looking forward to dropping the remaining 50 in 2007.

#4 My scrapbook weekend. Twice a year I get to go away with some girlfriends for 2 days and 2 nights to work on my scrapbooks. I look so forward to it and am so grateful to my husband for not giving me (too much) grief about it.

#5 Opening of our business. This is the reason David has been away. He is at management training for Meineke (see anticipation #1). We hope to open around the 3rd week of January. I will keep my job and David will run the shop. This is a new thing for both of us, and it is terrifying and exciting at the same time.

In closing, I anticipate good things in the future.

Passenger of Life

2006-11-14T07:02:00.000-08:00

Diane Ackerman
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Diane Ackerman (born October 7, 1956) is an American author, poet, and naturalist known best for her work A Natural History of the Senses. Her writing style, referring to her best-selling natural history books, can best be described as a blend of poetry, colloquial history, and easy-reading science. She has taught at various universities, including Columbia and Cornell, and her essays regularly appear in distinguished popular and literary journals.

The Sunday Scribblings prompt for this week is the following quote:

"I don't want to be a passenger in my own life."
(Diane Ackerman)

What an interesting quote. What does it mean? Where do you place the emphasis?

One option is: I don’t want to be a PASSENGER in my own life.

At times in my life, I’ve been a passenger, and happily so. Sometimes being the passenger made me feel trapped and angry. Other times in my life, I’ve been the driver. Sometimes reluctant, sometimes with purpose.

It’s the variation of these roles that makes life interesting. Sometimes it’s good to be the passenger. When things are going well, it's easy to just go along for the ride. Then things get bumpy. Sometimes we just have to ride things out before we can decide what to do next. Perhaps it’s the decision part that is key. You have to be the driver in order to change your direction. You can yell and scream from the passenger seat all you want that you’re heading in the wrong direction, but unless you actually take control of that wheel yourself, the course will not be altered. There will always be crossroads. And unless you are the driver, you will be stuck. Or at the very least, at the mercy of someone other than yourself. Sometimes you have to drive. Drive with purpose.

A second option: I don’t want to be a passenger in MY OWN life.

Sometimes I don’t want to be in the car at all, well at least not in MY car. How easy it is to slip into the pattern of thinking everyone has it easier than you, or is doing things that you can only dream of doing.

SHE is so thin and pretty.
THEIR kids sleep through the night.
HER husband volunteers to take the kids to play.
HE gets to entertain clients, while I’m stuck at work.
SHE doesn’t have to answer to anyone and can do what she wants when she wants.
THEY get to do all the fun things.

The reality is that those same people you envy so much probably want to get out of their own cars at times too.

It's funny. My friends used to live vicariously through me. They were all married, some with kids. I was young, single, and traveled to cool places. I owned my own house and answered to no one. I had FREEDOM. At the same time, I envied them. They had love and stability and kids and a LIFE. Now, I find myself living vicariously through others. Wishing for a day to myself. Longing to be able to pick up and go without having to make a thousand arrangements first. Maybe this vicarious living is just part of the aging process, part of the cycle of life. Remembering my youth and carefree days. Before responsibility to others took over. When it was just MY car I was in charge of. But just like I envied my friends back then, I know there are those who envy me. And they should. My life is full.

My direction: I don’t want to be JUST a passenger in my own life. I want to drive sometimes, too. And I would like to be a passenger in your life, if you will let me.

Sometimes I want to lead, sometimes I want to follow, and sometimes I just want to get the hell away. I would also like to accompany you on your journey, for I am a good companion.

The good news is that I can do all of these things. And still get to where I want to go.

The best news is that I LOVE where I'm going and who I'm going with.

Morning

2006-11-02T13:32:00.000-08:00

For Sunday Scribblings #32:

Morning sure does come alot sooner now that the time has changed.

My 4 year-old is not yet adjusted back to the standard time. This morning, he started morning at 5 am. Have you ever heard a 4 year-old try to be quiet? It's pretty loud.

My 1 year-old usually makes it until almost 6am or so. Which is pretty okay most days. But, we recently took down her "baby jail" (it's a play yard we had located in the middle of our family room), so now she has free roam of the house. Which means, if she's up, I'm up. Bummer.

I used to love the morning. Now, not so much.

UPDATE (11/6/06):

I have thought more on this topic, and have decided that the most offensive time of the day is 4am. Throughout all my months of breastfeeding and having babies who woke in the night, 4am was the time I hated most. At 2am/3am, you can still get in a few/couple more hours of good sleep. At 5am, you can go on and stay up, because you were about to get up anyway. But 4am is obscene. Going back to sleep only makes you more tired. Staying awake only makes you more tired. Good lord, how I hate 4am.

Happy Birthday Anna Kathryn

2006-10-26T07:04:00.000-07:00

October 26, 2005

You and me, on the day you were born.

I cried before my surgery, knowing that I would never feel you kick inside me again.

October 2006

You, at 1 year old.

I can't believe that it has already been a year since you were born. And yet, it seems I've known you forever.

I cry when I think of how much you've grown. You are already so strong willed and independent. You won't be my baby much longer.

Happy, Happy Birthday, my beautiful girl.

I love you!

Mommy

GOOD

2006-10-23T08:13:00.000-07:00

For Sunday Scribblings,

Is “good enough” good? enough?

As much as I might like to convince myself otherwise...
As much as I may have convinced others otherwise...
What it really boils down to is this:

I don’t think I will ever be Good (Better? Best?) at all of the things I want to be. But maybe, just maybe, if I try really, really hard, it will be good enough. I will be good enough. For someone. For anyone. For me?

Time and Power

2006-10-16T14:46:00.000-07:00

For Sunday Scribblings:

Time:

There are at least 64 definitions involving TIME, according to dictionary.com

“Freezing Time” is not one of them.

What would I do if I could “freeze time”?

• I would freeze in time the look that my husband had in his eyes on our wedding day.
• I would freeze in time the feelings of excitement when I saw the positive results of my pregnancy tests.
• I would freeze in time the last kicks I felt before giving birth.
• I would freeze forever the moment I first held each of my children. And the first time they crawled, and walked, and talked. And each of their firsts yet to come.
• I would freeze time to preserve the last moments I spent with each of my grandfathers.

It turns out that I DO have the power to freeze time. I freeze it with photographs. I freeze it in my memories. I freeze it in my heart.

I am not defined by a single moment in time, but by the passage of all the moments in my life. I hope to fill each moment with “times” worth remembering.

Power:

What super power would I want? My son is 4 years old and VERY into super heroes. He *is* Batman. When he asked me which super hero I want to be, my first thought was Plastic Man.

According to wikipedia, Plastic Man has the following abilities:
• Can stretch and shape his highly resilient body into any shape he can imagine, even ones with moving parts.
• Immune to telepathy.
• Possible immortality.
• Can stretch his limbs and body to superhuman lengths and sizes, with flexibility and coordination extraordinarily beyond the natural limits of the human body.
• Can contort into various positions and sizes such as entirely flat so that he can slip under a door or use his fingers to pick conventional locks.
• Can disguise himself by changing the shape of his face.
• No known limit to how far he can stretch his body.
• The only limitation he has relates to color, which he cannot change without intense concentration.

I wonder if this wish to be “plastic” is my sub-conscience trying to tell me that I’m stretched too thinly? Mommy guilt for being a full time worker? My insane obsession with being fat? Desire for achievement and greatness? Who knows? Who really cares?
Plastic Man is cool.

My Mom, The Butcher

2006-10-16T10:40:00.000-07:00

...or other exciting names Anna Kathryn will call me when she learns how to speak.

Observe:

I think we can all agree that this is the most. beautiful. baby. girl. ever! But honestly - that hair! I botched the bangs! Oops! Sorry, baby. Mommy has hair issues.

But wait - check out those LASHES! Maybe she can do mascara commercials. Is there a market for infant mascara models?

Photo courtesy of Susie. More pictures found HERE.

Random Thoughts

2006-10-10T11:35:00.000-07:00

Still perturbed.

Busy at work.

Losing a few pounds here and there - 44.2 in all. Weigh in again on Thursday.

Looking forward to cooler weather.

Jake just turned 4. He's so big and handsome. He's also very smart. His spirit is joyful, you can see a sparkle in his giant blue eyes.

Anna Kathryn is almost 1. She's started taking steps. 6 is the most I have counted at one time. She will make the cutest kiss smack with her mouth if you say the word "kiss" or when I tell her "I love you" in the morning. She loves the stuffed "rocking tiger" we have. It roars. So does she.

I am sad to not have babies anymore. But these kids are so awesome. I can't wait to see who they turn out to be.

A bit perturbed

2006-09-19T15:20:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling a little "off" today. Actually for the past couple of days. Not really sure what it's all about.

I'm pretty mad that my son was turned away from Sunday school over the weekend b/c the lady couldn't find our registration papers and his name wasn't on the list.

I'm getting pretty swamped at work - dealing with our external auditors on non-issues is tiresome.

I'm pretty pissed that we got some bad calls in the game against Auburn on Saturday.

But, I don't think those are it. I dunno. I'm just bummed.

I will never write...

2006-09-13T06:42:00.000-07:00

With the innocense that I had in the 2nd grade. Evidence:

LOVE IS

Love is caring
Love is sharing
Love is having fun
And also being able to run
And lie in the sun

Love is having a heart
Love is being smart
A mother and a brother and a dad
Are very nice things to have
And because I have them all, I sure am glad.

Kay - Age 8

This poem won me 1st place in the school contest.

For Sunday Scribblings

The Most Awesome Thing

2006-09-10T18:28:00.000-07:00

In about 7 minutes (and probably before I finish typing this post) KAREN is meeting her daughter Maya for the first time. Rarely have I felt so much joy for a complete stranger. All the best Karen, and to Maya - welcome home!

Stupid Internet

2006-09-04T13:06:00.000-07:00

So I have this post all typed out about how much yesterday's posts
sucked and that I should stop whining and feeling sorry for myself and
I should just focus on the good things and the stupid internet
connection went down. Wow, was that the longest run on sentence ever?
Anyway, if I could get into my account to delete yesterday's nonsense
I would, but I can't - so I will have to rely on you to just ignore
me.

The Pretty People

2006-09-03T18:03:00.000-07:00

My neighbors and all their friends are "pretty people". I can't tell you how ugly I feel when I come home from one of their parties. It would be nice if they were also mean and bitchy, because then I could hate them. Alas, they are not. They are all very nice - and I don't even mean the "fake nice" you normally get from the Pretty People.

An Anti-Bug

2006-08-28T09:51:00.000-07:00

Let’s start the day and week off right.

I am blessed.

I have a husband who loves me. And he cooks. And he runs the kids around. He will keep our son with him just to spend some time with him or do something fun. Did I mention that he also changes diapers?

I am blessed.

I have two beautiful and healthy children. They are my light and my joy – even if I do have to get up all night and catch every little bug they bring home. My son who remembers to say his “God Blesses” and include the lady who takes his pictures. My daughter who will say over and over…. MA MA MA MA MA!

I am blessed.

I have parents and parents-in-law who love us and our children. They will help play with and entertain the kids while David and I get things done around the house, or just get away to do something fun for ourselves. Parents who help us do projects around our house – usually consisting of moving furniture.

I am blessed.

I have daycare providers who adore my kids. Someone that Anna Kathryn clings to when I wave good-bye. She is secure. She is loved. When I arrive in the morning, all the kids who are there ask where Jake is. He’s a popular kid! ;) Jake can also take computer classes and dance classes. They are in a good environment and I don’t have to worry about them during the day.

I am blessed.

I have a home. It’s not the tidiest of homes, but it is ours and we are building it with love.

I am blessed.

We have financial security. Enough to take a risk and pursue the dream of owning our own business. It might not be for everyone, but we are taking a chance. It feels right to us. We hope that we will make a lot of money. We hope we can be contributors to the community. But, even if it all fails to work out, I’m glad we are taking the chance. It’s brave.

I am blessed.

My friends rock the world. I have friends close enough to be family – Friends who ask me to be a Godparent to their children. Friends I have known since kindergarten. Friends I have only met recently. Some friends are in the computer. Friends I can share my hopes and fears with. Friends who love me for me.

I am blessed.

I hope you all have a wonderful day!

Who Else Can I Still Be?

2006-08-16T08:43:00.000-07:00

For Sunday Scribblings assignment #20.

Gosh, I think about this all the time. Sometimes I think I'm out of time, and I've missed my window of opportunity to do something great. Sometimes I just think that I could be so much MORE than I am. But, mostly I am where I want to be. Well, except for my image issues.

What I really hope I can still be is a good role model for my beautiful daughter. She is 9 1/2 months old. And she is beautiful. And she is petite. (And, God how I hope she stays that way.)

However, what I want to be is the kind of mother, no - the kind of woman, that she can look up to. A woman who does not have the perfect body, but has the perfect spirit. A woman who knows that she is worth way more than what the beauty magazines would have her believe. A woman who is confidant enough in her abilities to not worry about what anyone else thinks. A woman who can say "fat" and "beautiful" in the same sentence. And mean it.

This is what I want for me. This is what I want for my daughter. This is what I want for ALL of our daughters. We ARE more.

My Mother Gene is Broken

2006-08-15T05:33:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what is wrong with me. I think my "mother gene" is broken. Every time I read about a mother crying all day when she has to go back to work, or the mom who can't stand the thought of leaving her child for a few hours/days, or the mom who is so worried about her child going to school - I wonder what the hell is wrong with me?

I didn't cry buckets of tears when I brought my kids to daycare. I'm pretty happy when I can get a few hours (and twice a year a couple of days) to myself. I can't *wait* for Jake to start kindergarten in 2008. Although, we *are* holding him a year to start when he is 5 turning 6, instead of when he could go at 4 turning 5. We make the cutoff by 5 days, but I don't want to burn a year in school for 5 days. I prefer to have him be one of the older kids and the leader, rather than the youngest and a follower. And college - he should already be 18. So, yes, we're keeping him from school a bit longer, but for purely selfish reasons. ;)

Anyway, back to the brokenness of my motherhood... Am I just cold-hearted? Too old to be a mom? What?

I do cry spontaneously when I think of how beautiful, awesome, and sweet my kids are. But, crying about the practicalities of life? Not so much.

Baby Bugs

2006-08-09T13:50:00.000-07:00

These photos of the kids were taken by SUSIE over the weekend. Jake will be 4 in September and Anna Kathryn is just over 9 months old.

More pictures can be found HERE

Do you really want to hurt me?

2006-08-08T06:06:00.000-07:00

Yes, I believe you do.

A bug

2006-08-08T06:02:00.000-07:00

Single lane exit ramps off of the interstate. There are TWO directions to go at the end of the ramp. Why the hell aren't there two LANES to accomodate all the cars?

At least at the exit where my office is, the people know the routine to stick to the left side, leaving enough room on the right shoulder to form the other lane. But, it seems there is always one f&cking numbskull who will sit in their Lincoln Towncar directly in the CENTER and muck things up.

Seriously - two directions. Two lanes. It's really that simple.

Who Might I Have Been?

2006-08-03T13:47:00.000-07:00

I attended a funeral this week. I spoke of Ruth a couple of posts ago. So, when I saw this prompt for Sunday Scribblings, I knew exactly what I wanted to write about.

There is usually a person in your life that holds great influence over you - even if it's years down the road before you realize how influential they really were.

The following was not written by me, although I am mentioned as a person who was better because I knew Ruth. Which is so true. This eulogy speaks the exact feelings I have about Ruth. How amazing she was that she touched SO MANY people.

Eulogy for Mrs. Ruth
August 2, 2006

Good morning. My name is M. I’m from Baton Rouge and grew up here at (insert name here) Church. I know that Miss Jones – or Ruth, as most everyone knew her – was many things to us. A dear sister and sister-in-law. A loving aunt. A great aunt who was always there. A charter member, along with Mr. Charlie, of this church. A faithful member of the Altar Society. A beloved Regent of the Catholic Daughters. An unforgettable friend. But I’d like to tell you what she meant to me, as longtime adviser of the (youth group).

I have so many memories in this church, and Miss Jones was a part of just about all of them. We Juniors and Juniorettes used to change out all the Misssalettes in this church, staple-side up, neat as a pin, as Miss Jones made us do. We rode bikes through the parking lot and around the school to raise money for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. We organized dances and lock-ins and held meetings in what used to be the Parish Family Center. And we met in the parking lot, so we could go to visit female prisoners at St. Gabriel’s, students at Louisiana School for the Deaf, and residents of the (insert name) nursing home. Miss Jones was at the center of it all, herding, along with Miss Barbara and Renee, carloads of squealing, impressionable girls and teen-agers to all these places.

I think I first felt a real connection with Miss Jones soon after I joined Juniors. We were standing right outside of the Parish Family Center and I asked Miss Jones where I could put my money, since I didn’t have a purse or any pockets. She took my money, stuck it in her bra, gave me that smile and said, “It’s safe here – no one will touch it.”

She supervised us on our often weekly activities, letting us laugh and goof off, but reining us in when we had work to do. What she was doing was teaching us the value of service to God and our communities. What we didn’t realize, at the time, was, despite all the fun we had riding bikes, changing Missalettes and washing cars, she was teaching us a lot of life lessons, too. How to plan and carry out a project. How to work on a team. How to diffuse a difficult situation. How to keep your sense of humor and have fun. Most importantly, how to treat others. She helped us grow in confidence, because she – and Fr. Hurst – let us do the leading and coordinating, with guidance from her, if we needed it. Yet, she was a quick to shake her finger at us, if we deserved that, too.

When I think of Miss Jones, what sticks out most is her forthrightness, her fierce independence, her crazy sense of humor and her feistiness. I remember one time when the Juniors worked the phones at the Muscular Dystrophy telethon, one Miss Jones couldn’t chaperone us to because she had recently suffered a heart attack. I called her later, and asked how we had looked on TV. She said, “Well, you looked fine, except for all the gum chewing. Y’all looked like you were chewing on your cud.” To this day, I cannot chew gum in public without felling a little bit self-conscious. Her heart, as you know, would continue weakening over the years, but she hung on a year and half longer than anyone thought possible. One more thing – those high heels. I should be so lucky to be wear them when I’m in my 90s.

A big part of Miss Jones’ legacy, to me, is her commitment to building strong communities of women. For us Juniors and Juniorettes, Miss Jones, Miss Barbara, Renee and all the other moms who helped out created a community where we all felt safe, accepted, and, yet, challenged to do well and do good. I know, for many years, she kept many Catholic Daughters active and involved, as they stuffed envelopes for Louisiana Public Broadcasting and volunteered for many other organizations. A couple of years ago, I asked her what was her secret to getting people to be and stay involved. She said, “I just ask them. And you know what – no one has ever turned me down.” A valuable lesson, indeed.

After I moved away from the area, Miss Jones and I saw each other mostly at church and holiday gatherings at my parent’s home. I thank you, Mom, for maintaining that bond with Miss Jones and for continuing to visit her until the end. Even though she led a long, full life, it’s very difficult to let Miss Jones go. She was my youth group leader, my confirmation sponsor, my mentor, my role model, and my friend. Through all of our many conversations, I learned how much she loved her family – she spoke constantly about each of you and was particularly proud that you worked together as a family and stuck together. As Miss Barbara said to me Monday, we can take comfort in the fact that she’s finally reunited with Mr. Charlie after 14 long years. And that, once again, she can hang out with Fr. Hurst and carry on like they used to do.

Of all the things she gave us, I am most grateful that she took the time to teach dozens of young girls like me, Rosanna, Kay, Melissa, Stephanie, Estelle, Renee, Veronica, Charlotte, Dana, Janet and many others how to be strong women. Women who are compassionate. Women who serve their communities. Women who hold fast to their faith. Women who don’t just stand by. Now grown up, we didn’t realize that by just being around her, we were becoming more like her – and I think that was her plan, all along. Most of all, Miss Jones, you taught me this – that family doesn’t have to be related by blood. They don’t even have to look the least bit alike. Sometimes, family can be found when you have an impressionable girl, a generous woman willing to mold and shape her and a lifetime of love.

Amen. Thank you M, for the beautiful words that spoke straight to my heart. And thanks again to Ruth, and to God, for placing her in my life.

One by One

2006-08-03T10:33:00.000-07:00

One Day at a Time..... that's how you should take life. You can't change yesterday. Worrying about tomorrow won't help. You can only live for today, making the best choices you can.

That reasoning is very important in a weight loss journey. You can't take back the cookies, or candy bar that you already ate. You can't swear off bad foods for tomorrows to come. You can only look at the options before you at any given meal, and choose. Sometimes you will choose wisely, and sometimes not. But, it IS always a choice.

For the past few weeks, I have not always chosen wisely. Therefore, my losses have not been more than a pound a week. But, still, it's one pound less than I was before. One pound closer to my goal.

Weight lost this week: 1 pound
Total weight loss: 35.2 pounds
Pounds to go until I'm losing "new" weight: 4.8

Mrs. Jones and Me

2006-07-31T10:38:00.000-07:00

Sleep well, Ruth. Thanks for being a role mode, and a friend. I will always admire your zest for life. And that you had perky boobs into your 90's. Give Mr. Charlie a kiss for me!

It happened again

2006-07-24T14:55:00.000-07:00

Okay, I think I can agree that I have the most beautiful daughter in the whole. wide. world. Oddly, random strangers also agree. Well, to say stranger is not entirely accurate, but acquaintance would be about right - people I might see twice a year or so. Here's the scene:

Me, strolling Anna Kathryn at the softball field at my church on Sunday evening.
Acquaintance #1 and #2, walking toward.

A#1 - Hey Kay - it's been so long since I've seen you. You had another baby? Oh, my how pretty. (and some other complimentary things)

A#2 (a man, even) - Wow, she is pretty. Look how perfect. She's the prettiest baby ever. Her little lips are so perfect on her face. She looks just like a doll.

Me: Thank you

Anna Kathryn: smiling at everyone.

This went on for several minutes - all the compliments and such.

My very good friend Susie takes the kids pictures. One of her friends tells her every time she visits the website, how pretty Anna Kathryn is.

And, don't get me wrong, she is beautiful. See?

Still, people do tend to go on. Which is nice. I wonder though, why I get so weirded out? I wonder, if because in the same sentence, they are also saying how much she looks like me..... and me and beautiful hardly belong in the same conversation, much less the same sentence.

And then I hope against hope that Anna Kathryn stays beautiful and never has to deal with the image issues I have.

Stop, Thief!

2006-07-21T20:46:00.000-07:00

From Sunday Scribblings, Prompt #17 is "thief".

I caught a thief in 1991. I was in college - about to graduate. I was home (alone) at my apartment, and I heard glass breaking. I looked out my bedroom window just in time to see feet going through the window at my friends' apartment next door. I called their phone. Answering machine. I called again - nothing. So, I called 911. A few minutes later, cops arrived with guns drawn. I was on the phone with the dispatcher and they were radio-ing what I said to the police officers. It was pretty exciting. I knew the complete layout of the apartment - as well as the name of the doberman (Hershey) who lived there. They went in - but couldn't find anyone. Since I was glued to the window, I knew the person didn't come out of the window he went in. Nor out the front door - which I could see. There was no back door. The window on the "blind" side of the apartment was shut and locked. Someone was in hiding.

Turns out, he was behind the washing machine. He had gotten the answering machine (why it didn't pick up the 2nd time I called), the VCR (this WAS 1991, and before DVD), a stereo, and some other electronics in a garbage bag. He had managed to lock the doberman in the bedroom. But, the police arrived quickly, so he was "caught". To my shock, the kid was ELEVEN years old. Lived a few streets over. His grandmother sent him out to steal stuff. It was his FIFTEENTH arrest. Nice.

His court date was going to be on what just happened to be my first day of work at a new job in a new town. I postponed my start date and showed up to court. I was never called. I guess they pleaded him down, or something. I never did find out. I moved, and my friends moved. Never heard another thing about that kid. He's probably in a jail or dead. Poor little boy didn't really stand a chance. When his own guardian sent him out to steal.

At least he didn't get anything from my friends. And I got him off the streets, at least for a little while.

With Baggage

2006-07-19T09:05:00.000-07:00

From Sunday Scribblings, Prompt #16 is With Baggage.

Baggage. Even just the word by itself sounds so heavy.

Heavy. That’s what my baggage is. My weight. And all the negative feelings/emotions associated with it. The comments said years and years ago that I carry around in my head and in my heart.

Like the time my Dad called me a big fat sow. I was 15, and not fat. He was just mad that I was watching TV when there was a sink full of dirty dishes. Still- Big. Fat. Sow. Yeah, baggage.

Or that time when I was about 19 or 20 and was changing clothes when Mom was in the room. And she looked at me and said something to the effect that if I would just lose a few pounds, then XYZ (my boyfriend/pseudo-fiance at the time) would really have something. Because, obviously, I was nothing on my own merit. Baggage.

Or that time the same boyfriend ate all the candy out of a Valentine’s box and replaced it with rocks because I told him I didn’t want candy. And he gave it to me as a gift. The ONLY gift. Not even a card. Nothing else, just rocks. He thought it was a joke. I cried for 3 weeks. That was especially heavy baggage.

Or maybe when I found out recently that all this time since I graduated from college (about 15 years), that my Mother was convinced that the reason a friend of mine was hired by a particular accounting firm instead of me was because she was pretty AND thin. Not because her dad was best friends with the hiring partner or anything. Or the fact that she actually interned with them over the summer. Nope, had to be because I was fat. Baggage.

When that boyfriend dumped me, he said that the new girl was “bigger” than me. Okay. Nice to know. I lost about 40 pounds then. Was pretty “hot” even. A few months later, I was assaulted. Not in a good way. So, my weight once again caused me problems. Was it my fault? Was I advertising? I don’t think so. But I put the weight back on. At least the fat would protect me. And it did – for a lot of years – it protected me from other people. But it didn’t protect me from myself. Emotional baggage.

Maybe I remember times when I was dating (my now) husband, when we would go out, he would turn his back to me. Maybe he was just rude. Or maybe it was because I was fat and he was embarrassed for his friends to see him with someone like me. He, himself, has never really minded my fat. But looking back, it did affect the way he treated me when we were around other people. Baggage.

Today, my biggest fear is that my weight will embarrass my kids. They are too young right now, but within the next year or two, my son will start school. I had him pretty late (32) so I’ll already be an “older mom”. I really don’t want to be the fat mom too.

From my high point, (not counting being pregnant) I’ve lost about 35lbs. I have about 65 or 70 to go. I’m still on Weight Watchers. I’m counting points, and going to meetings, and smiling, and laughing, and cutting up.

When on the inside, I’m dying. Under the weight of my baggage.

The Incredible Shrinking Woman

2006-07-13T14:35:00.000-07:00

Okay - so 3.4 pounds lost is not all that incredible. But, it's a start. And all journeys start with small steps.

Less Fat

2006-07-10T14:19:00.000-07:00

Just for the record, I have renewed my quest to be less fat. I attended my first WW meeting in about 2 months last Thursday. And I have counted all my points this week - including the cake I had for breakfast that day. We shall see what occurs on this Thursday, but I had to get back into it. I can live with a little fat, but it certainly needs to be less fat than now.

For the record, I am technically "obese". And I'm okay with the term "fat". I don't beat myself up about it, because I'm doing something to help myself. I. Am. Fat. There is actually some empowerment in being able to say that without tears. But I won't be fat forever - and that's the key! (No need to say "oh, you're not fat". Yes I am. I happen to believe that you can be fat AND beautiful - LOL! )

Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn

2006-07-07T08:23:00.000-07:00

From Sunday Scribblings, Prompt #15 is hotel stories.

This is a fun one. I have loved hotels all my life. I traveled for a number of years in my career, so I am used to living out of a suitcase. So many stories, so many memories.

Early Memories

The RoadRunner hotel in Houston, Texas. This is where my family would stay when we went on our annual trip to Astroworld. They had free breakfast, it was close to the park, and it was cheap. Win, Win, Win.

Memories of Solitude

The Loews Hotel in New York City. I believe it is on Park Avenue. I had a coupon for a BOGO free night. This hotel had a bed that sucked me in so far, that I barely left it for the entire weekend. I arrived on a Friday evening, ordered room service, and sank into that bed to watch movies. Which I did until late Saturday afternoon. I had a friend in the city - Ramzi - so, I met him in Central Park for awhile. We had an early dinner, and then back to the hotel I went. More room service, movies, and that BED! I went back to the city where I was working on Sunday at check out time. I adore New York. I love the pulse of the city. But on that particular weekend, in that particular hotel, I loved just being.

Travels to Foreign Lands

I have had the great fortune to visit several other countries.

Toronto, Canada - Where I went to visit my (not yet, but soon-to-be) husband for a weekend while he was working up there. The hotel (a Marriott Courtyard) was walking distance from everything cool to do while in Toronto.

London, England - I don't remember the name of this 4 star hotel (it was not a US chain), but I do remember that my Mom and I could not open our suitcases at the same time. Tiny beds, but we were never in the hotel anyway. We did have a private bathroom. It was very close to a Tube station, and also close to several pubs. Really, what more can you ask for?

Scotland - All over the country. We spent a little over a week traveling about 1000 miles by tour bus through Scotland. As compared to London, the rooms in the Scotland hotels were enormous. In one hotel, The Hotel Thistle (I can't remember the city) we even had 2 (count them. one. two.) QUEEN SIZE beds! What luxury!

Prachinburi and Bangkok, Thailand - Talk about night and day. Prachinburi is about 3 hours by car from Bangkok. I went there for work for a month in July one year. During the work week, we stayed in a "resort" that had 1 inch cracks under the doors, rock hard single beds, and air systems that did not run unless the key was in the switch. (After a week, I figured a way around this) I'm from Southern Louisiana - I NEED my AC. The men moved floors after a week. The 1 inch crack I mentioned above? Yes - it let in the critters. Again, I'm from Southern Louisiana - and we likes us some critters. ;) I stayed put. The food, if that's what you can call it, was um...."okay". I lived on peanut butter crackers and snickers bars I had the foresight to pack from home. Still, the pool was lovely, azure blue tile, warm water, it backed up to a lake with some ducks, and most nights I had it all to myself. On the weekends, we stayed in a JW Marriott in Bangkok that was superb. There was teakwood everywhere. It was fabulous. I could even catch some TV in English on occasion.

Tokyo, Japan - I had to do some work in Yamato, Japan which is about an hour by train from Toyko. We spent about 10 days at the New Otani Hotel in Toyko. 5 star. Fabulous hotel with an Irish concierge who spoke something like 10 languages. Have you ever heard Japanese with an Irish accent? Loverly. This hotel had a tremendous Japanese garden which covered about 5 acres and had koi ponds, bridges, walking trails, places to meditate. It was serene. This is the hotel where I bought my bridesmaids gifts. Porcelain egg jewel boxes with velvet interiors, that played music. I also got a massage in my room at this hotel. That was cool.

What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas

Las Vegas is my favourite American city aside from New York. I love the bright lights of the strip and all the people watching. I've been going to Vegas for more than 15 years now. I have stayed in: The Luxor (with friends), Circus Circus (with friends), Treasure Island (with friends), Paris (with David the time we brought his Mom), The Aladdin (on our Honeymoon when we got upgraded to a 1400 sq ft suite that overlooked the fountains at Bellagio and the Eiffel Tower at Paris), The Venetian (where David and I stayed the first trip we took together, he joined me for a weekend, it was his birthday, AND it was the first time we both said "I love you"), New York New York (with David the time we brought his Dad to see Simon and Garfunkel). Viva Las Vegas! I'd tell you more, but well, you know.

Roaches Check In, and Kay Checks Out

When you stay in hotels almost for a living, you will have some bad experiences. They are too many to recount and I prefer not to recall most of them. I leave you with this: I have seen roaches, I have seen ants, and I have been too frightened to take off my pants.

Two Peas in a Pod

2006-07-05T14:33:00.000-07:00

From Sunday Scribblings, the prompt is "two peas in a pod".

Here are mine:

This picture makes my heart sing. My son looks like my husband, and my daughter looks like me. When I see them together, I see so much of the other in each one. Jake is a fantastic big brother, and Anna Kathryn (of course) adores him. My mind's caption for this picture is PURE JOY.

My soul hurts

2006-06-29T13:08:00.000-07:00

This has been a pretty rotten week. A very dear friend of mine lost her (ex)boyfriend to suicide over the weekend. The funeral was yesterday. There was still love there. Such a young life wasted. It's hard to watch someone you care about go through such pain. Mentally, I keep putting myself in her position and it takes me places I don't want to be.

If you pray, chant, hum, meditate, or throw out random acts of kindness, whatever it is you do - can you do it in her name?

WTF???

2006-06-22T07:27:00.000-07:00

What is with the people who will hang up on you when you answer the phone? I mean, is it really THAT difficult to say - "sorry, I dialed the wrong number"? I hate rude people.

About me

2006-06-21T07:46:00.000-07:00

1. What is your occupation? internal audit manager
2. What color is your underwear? black
3. What are you listening to right now? the sound of my keyboard
4. What was the last thing you ate? blueberry bagel
5. Do you wish on stars? yes
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? red
7. What is the weather right now? warm and muggy
8. Last person you spoke to on the phone? my husband
9. What do you do in your spare time? what is "spare" time?
10. Favorite drink? non-alcoholic: real coke in a glass bottle with ice crystals, alcoholic: margarita- top-shelf, frozen, with salt.
11. Favorite sport to watch? LSU football
12. Have you ever dyed your hair? many times, many colors
13. Do you wear contacts or glasses? contacts
14. Pets? a cat - Fuzz - who we tried to give away, but were told she was "not adoptable"; so, after a month vacation, Fuzz is back with us
15. Favorite month? December
16. Who is your favorite singer? Rob Thomas
17. What was the last movie you watched? Cars
18. Favorite day(s) of the year? Christmas
19. What do you do to vent anger? cry (sob, actually) sometimes I also scream in the car at the top of my lungs
20. What was your favorite toy as a child? Ms. Beasley doll
21. Fall or Spring? spring
22. Hugs or kisses? kisses
23. Cherry or blueberry? blueberry
24. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back? whatever
25. Who is most likely to respond? n/a - I'm posting on the internet
26. Who is least likely to respond? see above
27. Living arrangements? house with husband, 2 kids, 1 cat, and an insane amount of crap
28. When was the last time you cried? yesterday
29. What is on the floor of your closet? shoes
30. Who's the friend you've had the longest that this email is going to? n/a
31. What inspires you? sadly, I rarely feel inspired
32. Favorite smell? baby "stinky" feet
33. What are you afraid of? my kids dying
34. Plain, onion, blueberry, raisin bagels? blueberry (see question 4)
35. Favorite Car? Mercedes convertible - the kind I will never be able to afford
36. Number of keys on your key ring? 4
37. How many years at your current job? 2
38. Favorite day of the week? Saturday
39. How many states have you visited? 34, plus DC
40. How many cities have you lived in? 5
41. Pet Peeve? people who don't do what they say they are going to do
42. Hey what's your name? Kay

Feel free to add your answers in the comments.

A bug

2006-06-20T11:08:00.000-07:00

I hate coughs that won't go away. Particularly when they occur in the same timeframe as the ONE thing I was looking forward to this month. My scrapbook weekend away. Grrr. And pass the Hall's.

Ouch

2006-06-20T06:51:00.000-07:00

What was said:

Him: Your skinny friend with the dark hair from across the lake is going to lead the homeowners and start an association for the people who live on the lake.

Me: Who?

Him: (last name)........

Me: Oh - (first name)? I didn't know she was skinny.

Him: Oh yes, she's quite thin.

What I heard:

Him: Your skinny friend with the dark hair - you know the beautiful one - and you know, you're not skinny at all, fat cow. I wish I was married to someone like her.

Me: Who?

Him: (last name)........

Me: Oh - (first name)? I didn't know she was skinny (I think she was actually pregnant the last time I saw her)

Him: Oh yes, she's quite thin. And YOU'RE NOT. Cow. She's had kids too. Why don't you look like that?

Of course, it's all in my head. There was nothing malicious in his comments. How could he possibly have known that this girl is who I wanted to be in high school? She's beautiful, nice, has a great voice (both speaking and singing), and is (apparently still is) thin. Still, was the word "skinny" necessary in the description? And why does it hurt so much?

Anyway, I did what most fat wives would do. I took a hot bath and cried for 45 minutes. Then I got out, put on my PJs, went to bed, and cried myself to sleep. And he has no idea.

I am in Love

2006-06-14T19:43:00.000-07:00

With my new closet. Double hanging racks. Shelves. A drawer.

Feel the organization potential. Heavy sigh.

Three Little Words

2006-06-12T07:24:00.000-07:00

There are 3 little words that every Mom wants to hear. Maybe they are different for every Mom. Are they "I love you"? I think not. My husband is very adept at telling me that he loves me. For me, the words are "Let me go" - as in "let me go upstairs in the middle of the night to feed the crying baby." I'm still waiting to hear them. Don't get me wrong, if I ask him, he will go. Often with a grumble, but he'll do it. My dream is that one day I won't have to ask. Hey, we all have our dreams, right?

Hello

2006-06-08T06:33:00.000-07:00

Hello there. Trying this blogging thing out. Not much time to post now. Hopefully, I will be back.