Ladies and germs! Run, don't walk, to the Kindle store on Amazon.com and download a copy of my book, Tales From The Pantry: Random Rants & Musings of a Stay-At-Home Mom for FREEEEE until Dec 3rd! Hurry before the price goes back up!
Damn summer! I blame summer and all of it's summerness. Could have had something to do with all of the time at the pool. This was the first year that mama did NOT have to be in the pool the entire time! Sissy is now a swimmer (woo-to-the-flingin'-flangin'-HOOOO!) and Bubba has an awesome Bubba-proof swimmy thingy. So there was me, basking in my glory, eating snacks while watching the kiddos swim. I even got in SEVERAL times, but obviously not enough to work off the snackage. Damn. How many times am I going to lose the same 10 lbs, I ask you!?!! We just had pics taken for our family Christmas cards and I look like Jabba the Hut. Pitiful. No camera angle is going to hide those chins, I tell ya. And I'd like to know why I feel the need to bulk up right before the
most picture taking-est time of year!! Never snapped even one pic of my
skinny self back in June. Next time I lose weight, I'm snapping photos
like a mo' fo', so just expect some in your mailbox. :)
Ok, so back on the bandwagon. Because, you know, historically the holidays are the time for LOSING weight! Ugh. I haven't even started into my yearly Christmas fudge-a-thon yet! Fudge is kind of my thang. I've made probably a hundred lbs. over the years so I've got it down, and people will scream at me if they don't get their fudge. I'll be strong. I'll resist. I'll eat a carrot. Hey, Slimfast makes a fudge flavor, right? I'm sure it tastes the same.
Ok, people. We need to take a moment here. Take a moment and give a big shout out to the WW. (Weight Watchers for all of you newbies and skinny bitches.) I was cleaning out my closet and decided to try on an old pair of jeans. You know the pair, the ones that are completely out of style but you keep them around as a measuring tool. The 'remember when' pair. The pair that snaps you back to reality if you ever start getting too cocky and thinking you’re wasting away to nothing. The pair that you swear you are going to LIGHT ON FIRE because they seem to be shrinking a whole size every few months. Right now some of you, that know what I'm talking about, are thinking, "DANGER! DANGER! MAY RESULT IN SEVERE DEPRESSION, LOCKING YOURSELF IN THE PANTRY AND EATING CHOCOLATE CHIPS RIGHT OUT OF THE BAG!" Well, today I stared that beast down and made peace with this pair of good-for-nothing jeans! THEY FIT! I haven’t had these suckers on since before I had kids! Woooo-to-the-flingin’-flangin’-HOOOOO!! I’ve still got about 8 lbs before I hit my goal but I’m on my way! And I owe it all to the WW, and more importantly, Jersey Mike’s. I swear I’m going to be the new Jared! Remember the Subway dude that lost all that weight eating sandwiches? Jersey Mike’s turkey sub without oil and vinegar (might I suggest adding mustard, pickles and peppercinni's for a bit of tang?) is a ton of food for very little calories. Do yourself a favor and check it out if you have the means. “It is so choice.” (You get bonus points right here if you know that quote!) :) Ok, well I gotta run because the wind is blowing and mama needs to put a rock in her pocket. Ba dum bum! (Because I’m so skinny, remember? And the wind...will blow me away...because of my thinness...get it?) I know, I'm a hoot. :D
So thank you WW for helping me find my ass! I knew it was buried in there somewhere!
Apparently we've entered a new "phase". We have a "situation". An "issue". (For some reason I'm visualizing Joey from Friends and his "air quotes", then Ms. Chanandler Bong saying, "You're doing it wrong, Joe." Ok, back to hell...this morning at the crack o' early, I felt this little hand patting my bed. Patting...patting...I wondered what it was but was so tired that I said a quick prayer that the situation would resolve itself. That is, until I heard, "Morning Sissy!" Ummm, WTH? Mr. Man and I sat straight up in bed, dazed and confused. Holyyyyy CRAP!! Bubba had jumped out of his crib! I mean, he's almost 4 feet tall...it was bound to happen. But I had put if off for so long, and honestly, I'm just not ready. Not ready. I just wanted him to stay in that crib until he was like 3 1/2 and his little legs were sticking out through the slats because he was so tall. I need this boy CONTAINED!! Now, what to do!?! He has given me his 2 1/2 year old promise, more like a "pwomise", that he will never jump out again...and I think he means it. Ok, he doesn't mean it, but it's early and I'm tired and have I mentioned that I'm not ready to deal with this? He's only been sleeping through the night for 3 months, which mean I HAVE ONLY BEEN SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT FOR 3 MONTHS!
I can hear my mother's voice in my head, frantic that he will hurt himself jumping out of the crib. This does not concern me considering he jumps from the top of the slide without a problem. (Maybe a non-life threatening injury will slow him down! I KID! (not really) Did I just quote within a quote? Party foul! Sorry!) My boy is very athletic, so maybe this mama just needs to have faith in his athletic abilities and write this off to just a "whim"...it's a "fluke", right? He probably won't do it again. Just wanted to see if he could. Yeah, that's it. That's all this was. Just curiosity, and now that he knows he can, he will have no interest in doing it again. Whew. Thanks, guys. I was scared there for a second. #denial #prayforme
Woke up 498 times last night because my husband kept fluffing the blankets! Makes. me. crazy!!! I was sleeping so nice and warm and cozy, and Mr. Man would roll over every 20 minutes and fluff up the covers, thus sending a blast of freezing cold air into my warm little pocket I had carved out for myself. AAGGHHH!!! Then I'd have to start all over, making sure there were no gaps that could let out the heat. Twenty minutes later...MOTHER FLUFFER! I'm sure he thought I was talking in my sleep at first. 1:00 am..."Stop fluffing my pocket." 2:15 am ... "You're letting in all of the cold air." 2:50 am..."DUDE!" (we actually say these things in Cali.) 3:30 am ... "I am about to rain down a wrath upon your head, the likes of which you've never known." Now let's just add this to the fact that Bubba, at almost 3 years old, has decided that the last 3 nights, instead of sleeping, he's going to scream bloody murder. I don't even think he's fully awake when he's screaming. Have I mentioned that he screams as loud as a full grown person? Because I'm feeling the need to drive that point home again. And again. He is very loud. Like blow-your-hair-back loud. Like be-in-a-sound-sleep-and-sit-bolt-upright-in-bed-not-knowing-where-the-hell-you-are-and-why-you're-being-yelled-at loud. Like Full-Metal-Jacket-I-love-the-smell-of-napalm-in-the-morning loud. And he's down the hall behind a closed door! We have NEVER turned the volume up on the video monitor. Oh yes, we have video. MUST have video. That little sucker is cagey. Gotta keep an eye on him 24/7.
So today I am pooped and it is a yoga pants kinda day. What I REALLY want is a yoga pants, eat myself sick in chocolate chip cookies, kinda day. Weight Watchers won't let me. Apparently, they are watching.......and weighing. #meanies
Once upon a time there was a lady who pushed her dog in a stroller. This lady lives in my neighborhood. I have seen her pushing this dog in his own personal stroller for a few years now. You might remember reading about this in my book. The dog showed no signs of missing any limbs and I mused (Ranted? Mused!) about how I would need to wear a big orange vest and carry a big orange cone if I was pushing a dog in a stroller to announce to the world that I was, in fact, not a complete IDIOT who pushes a DOG in a STROLLER! It would have to say something like, "WARNING! DOG HAS HEART CONDITION AND MUST BE PUSHED IN THIS RIDICULOUS STROLLER!" Something like that. I might have a flare, too. Yeah. Definitely need flares.
Ok, so let us now fast forward to a few weeks ago. I was waiting in front of my daughter's school to pick her up when I hear my girlfriend frantically calling my name, "SHARI!" ~huffing, puffing~ "SHAAAAARRRIIIIII!!" She's running towards me, her red hair flailing in the wind, and she is panicked! In between trying to catch her breath, I catch these few words..."The dog...has...NO LEGS!!!!" ~sound of screeching tires in my head, followed by complete silence...slight ringing...possibly the sound of my pounding heart in my ears, although it could have been the battle cry of El Diablo telling me that I'm going to hell, and here's my hand basket.~ I am able to mutter a pitiful, whisper of a "whaaaat?" :-/ She repeats, "No legs. Dog has no back legs. Lady takes him to the park and he scoots around on his butt because he has...no...legs." What else could I say? "Punch me in the face. Punch me right now. Punch then pray, for I fear I am on my way south. Pearly gates just slammed shut on the woman who dissed a no-legged dog." Apparently my friend was at the park chatting it up with a few of her mommy friends and talk turned to Dog Pusher Lady and my friend giggled and mentioned my hilarious commentary in the book. To which they responded, "Oh, he doesn't have any back legs." True story.
So as I am wallowing in my self hatred, a ray of light...a beacon in the night, if you will. On the way back to the car I run into another mom friend that I don't know very well, but we pass each other daily and exchange pleasantries. (Sounds so civilized, doesn't it? Yeah, if I wasn't an evil dog dissing bastard.) I explain to her that I am the scum that grows on bottom-dwellers bellies because I wrote about this lady with her dog and now I find out that the dog has no back legs. To which this angel, sent from God, says to me, "Don't worry, you did nothing wrong. I know that dog. He's an asshole." It was at this moment that I knew. She is my people. Anyone who could call a dog an asshole is alright by me! :D Jury is still out on my reservations for hell, but it might be that my transgressions weren't as bad as previously thought. I'm sure PETA would see it otherwise, for I don't think PETA peeps would call a dog an asshole, so let's just keep this between us. They are not my people.
What makes the track of the sliding screen door so attractive? This is prime real estate in my home. It is the place my children most long to be. Not IN the house, not OUT of the house, but in this narrow space, letting in every bug in the tri-state area. It's like there's a magnet in their butts that draws them to the doorway, leaving them dangling with thoughts of "do I want in or do I want out?" It's the sort of indecision I haven't seen since Brett Favre. JUST MAKE UP YOUR MIND!! Then I find myself sounding EXACTLY like my mother when I say, "IN or OUT!!" It's a bit disturbing and comforting at the same time. Comforting that at least I know she was feeling the same thing, but nobody likes to sound like their mother. Sorry Mom...it's da troof. :)
Yesterday my 5 year old was literally laying across the track of the door with the top half of her body in the house and the lower half outside. As my 2 year old was attempting to lay on top of her, I believe my head exploded. After dealing with this situation 14 times a day, for what feels like every day of my life, I finally blew... ~scary whisper voice~ "Geeeeet OUT!!!"
These are the little moments in a mother's day that make her feel like she's being pecked to death by chickens.