2010 Resolution Reckoning

Last year I made 2 New Year's Resolutions 1) stop being a judgmental jack wad and 2) to live a life less processed. On the Eve of the Eve of the New Year, I am reflecting on my progress.

Things I learned while trying to not be a judgmental jack wad:

1. Women can't help but gossip and trash talk each other. As I tried really hard to eliminate this negative talk from my life, I became oh so much more aware when other women talked dirt and they all did, all the time. We all joke about men having an innate need to unzip their pants to see if they measure up, but women are just as bad. Rather than comparing bra size or something we measure cleanliness of house and orderly behavior of offspring, and we do it because we are all insecure. Trust me, that woman, you idolize, who can do anything, has an immaculate house, makes cute stuff, can bake mouth watering tasties, and has amazing children, she is insecure. She doesn't think she cuts it, and she compensates for this by over achieving in everything. I think God made us this way, otherwise we wouldn't get or stay married. Those handsome hotties we are married to complete us, lift us up, and make us feel okay about ourselves. If we already felt okay about ourselves, were absolutely confident, we wouldn't need them. And just like women have built in insecurity, men have built in hero syndrome. They want to rescue their damsel in distress from really big spiders, toilets that don't work and her own self loathing. Men need to be needed. It is all a delicate balance.

2. Some people go together like bare feet and dog poo, overall it just isn't a pleasant experience for either party.

In the beginning, I was amazed at the variety of friends I accumulated. I had friends that home school their children, that own all of Glen Beck's books, I even had friends who think that Diet Coke (Sweet Nectar of the Gods) tastes like battery acid. This all lasted until about March, when I realized something. Though I can accept that people have differing perspectives on life, liberty, sanctity and the pursuit of happiness, and that their perspectives are just a valid as mine, I still can't be honest to goodness friends with everyone. There are just some differences that can't be bridged by happy thoughts or bloody bitten tongues. Frequently I came home from a forced conversation with a group of other preschool moms and would rant on their bass ackward stupidity for the rest night to my husband, poor man. He was my only outlet (see original terms of resolution). So, in order to preserve his sanity and mine, I returned to some of my judgemental jack wad ways and put some of my old barriers back up.

In the end, I am far more accepting than I used to be, though there is definitely room for improvement. I have acquired some amazing friends I am not sure I would have given a chance before. I refuse to continue close relationships with people whose perspective is in such contrast to my own that we both just make each other mad or feel bad about ourselves.

Things I learned while trying to live a life less processed.

1. A kitchen counter cleaner made with baking soda, castile soap, and tea tree oil works pretty well. (Clorox wipes are still my best friend.)

2. Homemade laundry detergent is cheap and works.

3. Homemade dish washer detergent still sucks. I thought I had it figured out, but really it sucks. On the bright and spotless side though, the whole dish washer detergent fiasco brought me Lemi-shine.

4. I am too poor to go organic.

5. No matter how hard I try, Hubby still loves his Bologna and hot dogs.

6. We are chicken killers (we only have one left)

7. Hooray for Co-ops

8. Cloth Diapers are actually easy, especially if your kid is perpetually constipated.

9. Gardening in Arizona sucks.

Overall, in all honesty, I am not much less processed than I was last year at this time. I haven't given up though. We still have our lonely chicken and our sad, little garden that only produces midget food.

A 3 Year Old's Version of the Nativity

I was busy in the kitchen and Monkey Boy was happily playing with the Little People Nativity, when the words, "I ki-yull you!" caught my attention. I then heard the thumping sound of plastic on plastic and looked over to see two of the wisemen duking it out. Awesome, the 3 year old boy version of the Nativity apparently involves some UFC action.




So, I listened some more.

Little Chinese Wisman: "Aaaahhhhhh, I falling!" Chinese Wiseman is shoved off the shelf by Black Wiseman. Falls in slow motion to a spectacular death on the floor. All the nativity jumps off the shelf to rescue him, but fighting ensues.

A fighting song begins. "Dup Dup Dup, Dup Dup Dup" (to the tune of Jingle bells)

White Wiseman: to Black Wiseman You are mean, and I am nice

More fighting until all characters are laying in a lifeless pile.

Enter Cindrella's Fairy Godmother. Fairy Godmother flies over the fallen Nativity sprinkling magic down.

Fairy Godmother: Sssshhhhhhh, Ssssshhhhhh, Up, up, up, to the clouds. She carries each figure up to safety on the shelf above the manger.

Joseph: Wo, We way up here!

All that is left on the Nativity shelf is the Stable, a goat and a cart. God mother goes to the Stable and pushes it off,

Godmother: Push Push Push

She then hops on goat who is carrying a cart and jumps off to the floor.

Godmother: Wo, that was fun, Wee.

The rest of the character follow from the top shelf back down to the floor.

Mary: gesturing to the food in the cart and speaking to Black Wiseman Eat a fish?

Black Wiseman: Fish is poison, you want a cherry?

Angel: I do. um um um.

Camel: While stomping the hell out of everyone AH! AH! AH! AH!

Mary and Angel continue to eat cherries.

Baby Jesus takes a bite too and is followed by Joseph, a sheep, and the donkey.

All: hiccup hiccup

Monkey Boy: They're hiccups.

Enter baby brother, Angel Baby. AB puts manger back on the shelf and runs away with the food and cart. Monkey Boy follows. Growling from the hall way. MB drags AB back and takes the toys. MB piles up all the toys and sits on them.

Monkey Boy: You can't find them ever, ever, ever. I play with them and you don't. That I just say.

THE END

"At-Risk" Lexicon.

Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics
just one explication really and it is a direct quote

Most of you know I have worked with "At-risk" teenagers most of my teaching career. I have been out of the "biz" for the past 2 years because I have been attempting to raise my kiddos.

I have returned. Different school, different state, same kids. Teaching little delinquents is a little like watching Jerry Springer, you are so horrified you can't change the channel.

I have decided to share a few statements that have survived in infamy over my career and some new ones I am sure will join them.

Here are some student classics, sure to remain with me forever, or maybe just a really long time.

1. "Redickless": Misspelling of the word ridiculous.

When to use: Incredibly appropriate for many ridiculous situations.

2. "How'ma gonna smoke this, Bitch!": Statement made by a student to a store clerk who wouldn't sell her wrapping papers for her marijuana. She allegedly pulled out her bag of weed and showed it to the clerk to illustrate her point. Not so genius when you are wearing your school uniform.

When to use: This statement is perfect whenever one does not get their way, even if the situation doesn't involve elicit drug use.

3. "But don't you see, it's just like Days of our Lives!": Comment made during a conflict resolution between a girl, "Aspiring Porn Star" and her boyfriend "Thought She Truly Loved Me". Thought She Truly Loved Me(TSTLM) and Aspiring Porn Star (APS) had been together for at least a year, but all along she had been dating an older boy (Hotter than You) on the side and dropped the "I'm engaged to Hotter than You" Bomb on TSTLM who didn't know that Hotter than You even existed. There was a sea of 16 year old tears during which APS said, "But don't you see, it's just like Days of our Lives!" Yes, little 16 year old children, being a porn star is a quality career choice and yes, life is just like it is on TV.

When to use: Whenever life gets to the unbelievable crazy point, which at my house is ever day.


More Later

Muscle Car Mania

Thanksgiving thankfulness #2 : I am thankful for the 2010 muscle cars. They are so sexy. I feel the same about muscle cars as I did about Jonathan Knight from NKOTB when I was 12. I get giddy every time I see one. I do believe I need to get a poster of the Camaro and hang it above my bed. And every night as I drift off to sleep I will have "Bitchin' Camaro" by The Dead Milkmen running through my head.

"Bitchin' Camaro, Bitchin' Camaro!

I ran over my neighbors
Bitchin' Camaro, Bitchin' Camaro!
Now I'm in all the papers"

Aren't those tail lights hot?!?

I really am a bit befuddled by my recent attraction to cars. In general I have never cared about cars, especially sports cars.


I guess there was that time in my college years that I really really wanted an old land cruiser, but since then practicality has ruled my life.


Perhaps it is a subconscious longing for a little more glamor in my life or the desire for fancy expensive things that I have worked so hard to squelch. Maybe it is the wild, untamed freedom that muscle cars stand for. Maybe I am hitting my midlife crisis early. Whatever the reason, as soon as they add a 3rd row seating option to accommodate my brood, I am buying a muscle car!

Attitude of Gratitude

"Attitude of Gratitude" for some reason that little cheesy, rhymey rhyme makes me want to barf. It is not that I don't believe in being grateful, I sure as hell do! I guess I just don't believe in being cheesy.

So, with that in mind, I am going to jump on the thankful full season of Thanksgiving in this the thankful month of November bandwagon, but in my own, No Excuses, hopefully not too cheesy sort of way.

Today I am thankful I was not born into idiocy.

I work with a lot of kids who were born into complete asinine, idiotic stupidity. The poor stupid things really just don't have a chance. "My momma raised me up good. She was only 16 and didn't have no high school dee-ploma. She smoked pot when she was preggers with me too an look! I turned out just fine. And my daddy, he in jail." You begin to wonder why at some point no one looked around and saw that their life was a complete mess and realized hey, maybe there is a better way to go about things. Perhaps I don't have to start smoking when I am 6, get pregnant by 14, drop out of high school, smoke myself retarded by 18, and by age 20 have 4 kids each with a different daddy and every single one of those daddies in jail. It seems to be a never ending revolving door of dumb dumbs from which there is no escape.

Thank you Heavenly Father for not landing me in that big pile of stinky doo doo.

I am thankful that I was born into a legacy of education and integrity which I am honored to pass on to my children. I am lucky enough to come from pretty smart parents and they had pretty smart parents too. They believed that getting an education and living a moral life were important. So thank you Mom, Dad, Grandpas, Grandmas, Aunts, Uncles, and of course N-laws too for not being idiots or raising idiot children!

Dear Love's Truck Stop, I Hate You!

Dear Loves,

The other day I stopped at your establishment on my way to work. I am a tutor and it is generally a tedious job. I need a little happy in a cup so I can make it through. This particular day was looking to be extra craptacular, but I was running late and didn't have time to go a little out of my way to stop at my usual Diet Coke spot. Since your store is on my direct route I thought perhaps you could fulfill my needs. Oh, Loves, you disappointed me so!

Why in Heaven's name can't you get lids that actually fit your 44 oz cups? Really, is it that hard?!? I know you are just being the cheap bastard you are, but this is why it doesn't pay in the long run.

I ruined at least 5 lids before I finally got one to barely cling to the lip of the cup. Yup, 5 lids in the trash.

Then after paying $1.freaking50, hopping in my car, and speeding recklessly out of your parking lot, I reached down to my cup holder and tried to pick up my cup, but because the lid was not on securely, because it didn't fit, I dropped my 44 oz of Diet Coke, Sweet Nectar of the Gods, and it exploded all over the floor of my car.

And since I was running late, I didn't have the time to run back in the store and unleash the furies of a crazy woman without a diet coke. I could only pull over, carefully lift my floor mat up and dump my precious, all 44 oz, (well except the puddle still on the floor of my car) out onto the street all the while screaming obscenities that I had forgotten I knew.

And that is why, Dear Loves, I hate you! I hate you, hate you, hate you! And I will never ever ever ever step foot inside your white trash fest establishment again!

Sincerely,

Ranting Crazy Woman without her Diet Coke who has Totally Lost her Schmidt!

Pigsty

The reason my blog is titled No Excuses is because: 1) I believe people should take responsibility for their crap and not blame it on others or circumstances, 2) I believe one should be themselves and not excuse or apologize for their beliefs and personality.

I have found an area in my life that needs improving in the "No Excuses" department. I am constantly apologizing and making excuses for the messiness of my house. I may have spent the entire day working my guts out cleaning, and someone comes over and I say, "Sorry my house is a mess." Well, it's stupid and I'm not doing it anymore.

My house is messy. It is not so bad that you will get a disease from using my bathroom or anything, but there is just a general feeling of messiness. There are toys all over, the sink is full of dishes, if you walk on my kitchen floor barefoot you are bound to have a chunk of something squish up between your toes, I am not sure I even have a duster and I haven't seen the floor in my bedroom in months but, you know what, when I stand at the Pearly Gates, I don't want my life's accomplishment to be, "She had a clean house."

I am no longer going to make excuses. I'm going to just be me and when you come over to my house, you can check out my mess and say to yourself, "Really? There are cheerios stuck to her walls!" You can go home feeling better about yourself because your house may be a little messy too, but at least when your kid throws soggy Cheerios to the wall you clean them off.

I will lift the self esteem of every woman who comes through my door and I will do it one cluttery pile of crap stashed in a corner at a time.

O.D.D.

***Disclaimer***

It is not the intention of this post or its author to trivialize an actual mental disorder or to make fun of persons who struggle with a mental disorder. The author of this post is just trying to explain and understand her uncontrollable desire to "give the bird" to anyone and everyone who tells her what to do.


The beautiful thing about the internet is there is no longer a need for one to go to a Dr. for a diagnosis. Based on some recent self realizations and Google Health I have determined that I have O.D.D.

Oppositional defiant disorder (O.D.D.) - a pattern of disobedient, hostile, and defiant behavior toward authority figures.

Symptoms include:

• Actively does not follow adults' (or lifegurds') requests
  
• Angry and resentful of others
• Argues with adults (or the miniature bosses that run this house)
  
• Loses temper
  
• Spiteful or seeks revenge
• Touchy or easily annoyed

So here are the recent events that have lead me to believe that O.D.D. just might be my problem.

Story #1
Getting All Up in a 15 Year Old Lifeguard's Grill

Actually this little story is the second time I have almost come to blows with a lifeguard at the city pool. The rules at our city pool are ridiculous or redickless as one of my old high school students spelled it. (thought you'd appreciate that Julianne)

I was going to explain all the back story, but it got long and tedious so here is the gist of it. We had moved out to chest deep water because I had a bloody ankle from being stomped on in the kiddie pool and some monster 13 year old had trampled MB. I had the baby and Hubby and I were passing the other 2 back and forth between us. The Lifeguard told us it was not acceptable for one adult to be holding 2 kids. Rather than being rational adult who understands that the rules may be stupid, but they are the rules and getting in a fight with a teenager about them is juvenile, I freaked out.

"Why!?!"

The lifeguard looked at me with a disbelieving, I can't believe some parents are so stupid, look and replied, "Because it is dangerous."

"What do you think I am going to drop one of my children and not notice? Do you think this is anymore dangerous than letting them be trampled to death by a herd of moron 13 year old boys which you allow to run through the kiddie pool? Or hey, check out that kid bouncing to his death because you don't have a rope separating the kiddie pool from the deep end."

At this point Hubby started slinking away, trying to join the crowd of spectators.

"I am leaving! I am never coming back to this pool! Your rules are idiotic! Where is your boss?"

I stomped off. Well, when you stomp off in a pool, it kinds of loses its effect. Once all the onlookers had gotten bored, Hubby rejoined me and talked me back down to sanity, which is his role in our marriage. If it weren't for him, there would be a body count by now.

Story #2
Testimony Meeting Rebellion

(More disclaimer: Guy at Church is a fantastic guy, his wife is awesome. I am the one with the problem.) Guy at church makes an analogy about mistakes, comparing mistakes in life to putting hymn books in the holders the wrong direction. He told us to put the books in correctly to prevent damage to the spine. Just because he said something about it, I could not bring myself to reach up and turn the books in front of me. I looked around and everyone was obediently turning their books to the correct position. Very sneaky like, while no one was watching me, I reached up and turned all the hymn books on my pew upside down.

Story #3
In Which I Wanted to Stab Myself in the Eye With a Binky (hey it was all I had on hand) During the Parent Meeting for DQ's School

My little kindergartner, DQ, will be attending a smarty pants charter school starting next Monday. The school has uniforms, which already has me a little chaffed. But from what I understand the regular public schools are atrocious, so I am comprising my beliefs in individuality to hopefully get a better education for my kid. It better be worth it.

During the meeting they go through all the uniform rules. Shirt must be from Such -N- Such Screen Printers with school logo. Pants must Dickie Brand black. During the winter, any sweatshirts or long sleeve undershirts must be in the approved colors, black, green, gray or white. At this point my eyes are rolling and the bile is rising.

Jewelry will be kept to a minimum, no large hoops or dangle earrings. I threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Then the snack and lunch policy.
"The following items will not be permitted in a child’s snack or lunch:

Soda, diet soda

Candy or candy bars
Cookies, brownies, cupcakes, cake, etc. (100 calorie packs are acceptable)
Pop Tarts
Gum

Prohibited snacks will be sent home unopened with the scholar and an alternative snack
will be provided for that day."

I almost stood up and yelled. "If Andrew brings Pop Tarts to school, they'll all bring pop tarts to school. It'll be ANARCHY!" Instead I just rolled my eyes some more, swallowed the rising bile, and started staring at a really interesting dot on the ceiling.

Okay, I understand they don't want kid's to be all sugared up at school and they want them to eat healthy foods, thus hopefully breaking the cycle of obesity in America. I agree with all that, but just because they made a rule and wrote it out in their handbook, makes me want to send DQ to school with a box of Twinkies and secretly pass them to all her classmates at recess.

I have a problem!

This is for those of you who did not get the earlier reference because you don't have Breakfast Club memorized as I do. (Okay, I have most 80's teen flicks memorized. I know, I know, I have a problem. More than one apparently.)

The quote you need to hear is at 2:30ish.

Ha!

MB just tried to end an argument by counting to 3.

MB: I sleeping on couch!

Me: No, you're sleeping in your bed.

MB: Yes

Me: No

MB: YES

Me: No

MB: I SLEEPING ON COUCH! 1 . . . 2 . . . 3!

Joys of Motherhood Revisited

A long time ago I wrote this top 10 list. I decided it was time for an update.

10. When Monkey Boy screams, "I WANT CAKE!!!" with his big bawling snake mouth over and over and over and over again the entire time I am in the grocery store.

9. Stepping on those effing LeapFrog magnetic alphabet blocks. Why the Hell did I buy that thing?!? It's not like Drama Queen can practice spelling with it. 90% of the blocks are under the fridge and the other 10% are under my feet.

8. Happy Angel Baby head-butts on the bridge of my nose.

7. Barbie movies. Listen to the lovely song that ends up on repeat in my head. And just when it stops, Drama Queen starts singing it again. Love that harmony. It is so shrill it makes my hair stand on end.

6. Pee!

5. Little trails of baby vomit.

4. Sharing my bed, and my pillow with a barely potty trained little boy. M.B. routinely gets up at 4 am, shuffles to the end of our bed, grabs my big toe to pull himself up onto the bed, and then smashes himself next to me for the rest of the night. Hubby gets his half of the bed all to himself. Monkey Boy lays as close to me as possible, I scoot a little for some breathing room, and he scoots even closer, plastering his sweaty little body to me. I am left gripping the edge of the mattress trying not to roll off onto my night stand.

3. Trying to diaper and clothe an octopus baby who is doing an alligator death roll.

2. "Fetch Mom, Fetch! Good girl!" Angel baby loves this game. Usually he plays this when I am distracted, talking to the receptionist at the Dr.'s office or something. I give him a toy to keep him occupied, he throws it on the floor, I bend down and pick it up, I hand it back to him, he throws it on the floor. This usually goes on at least 5 times before I realize what is going on. By this time the receptionist or whoever I am trying to carry on a conversations with is looking at me like I am a complete moron and justifiably so.

1. Holding DQ on my lap, she looks up at me with lovey eyes and says, "I love you so much!" then with confusion, pointing to my chin, "I thought girls don't get hairs on their chins."

Everything I Needed to Know About Parenting I Learned at Petsmart

Only a few months after Hubby and I got married, I decided I needed a puppy. We justified this by believing that Jackson (Hubby's Dog) needed a friend because we were gone a lot. Now we have two monster beasts tearing up our backyard and costing a small fortune in dog food. I sometimes regret getting that second dog and I will admit there have been a few times, after they worked together to rip a new hole in their metal kennel, run way, and made me chase them down, I have considered kicking them into oncoming traffic. But even after all that, I truly believe training and owning a dog prepares you for parenthood.

Really if you think about it there isn't that much difference between a 3 year old and a dog. Dogs pee all over your house, 3 year olds pee all over your house. Dogs ruin your furniture, 3 year olds jump, climb, draw on and yes mine even chews on the furniture. Dogs don't understand the majority of the things you ask them to do, 3 year olds understand but, choose not to do what you ask them to do. Dogs stink, 3 year olds (especially boys) stink. Dogs sniff your crotch, Okay, my 3 year old doesn't sniff my crotch, but he is the perfect height for a good headbutt in the crotch.

When I got my puppy, my hubby thought I should take a puppy class at Petsmart because I had never trained a dog before. The lessons I learned there have proven to be invaluable. If you are thinking about having kids, borrow someone's dog and take a class. If you have particularly unruly young children, perhaps you could just take them to puppy class and the other participants wouldn't notice or may just wonder what breed you had.

If you can't get to a class here are some of the key lessons I learned from Petsmart Puppy Class:

* You are the master. You have to establish dominance in the relationship. If you don't, you might as well throw in the proverbial towel.

* You shouldn't beat them to make them behave.

* Good behavior and tricks are taught by consistent rewards i.e. treats or bribes. Be honest, if you are a parent you have taught your offspring tricks in order to show off how amazing, smart or adorable they are.

* Success takes continual practice and consistency.

* Don't get sucked into their games. e.g. Chasing a dog that is running away from you accomplishes nothing because the dog thinks it is a game.
**The teacher actually told us when the dog runs away, you should lay face down and the dog will think you are hurt and come to you. Yes, I have lain face down on a stranger's front lawn before, but that is a story for another time.

* When you are reprimanding them, use a loud growl-y voice, like a mean dog. This works especially well with children!

Some commands that work equally well with dogs and children:

"Stay" "Sit" "Heel" "Leave it!" "Play Dead"

Goi Cuon Wild

Every once in a while I have to break my usual ranting style for a recipe CUZ I love to cook!

My summer favorite . . . Goi Cuon or Vietnamese Salad rolls or Vietnamese Spring rolls or Vietnamese Summer roll. Whatever you want to call them they are fresh, trendy and Asian so they must be good.

Basically it is just a rice paper wrapper wrapped around herbs, veggies, rice noodles and a bit of meat.

Here is my monstrous yummy.

The stuff I like in mine:

Shrimp
Mint
Cilantro
Green onion
Carrot
Lettuce

I just use Sweet Chile Sauce for dip.

You can make yummy peanut sauce, but I am a little on the lazy side this summer

Here is a video that explains the basics of how to make them. Not really sure why the cameraman goes in and out of focus. Artistic flair I guess.

Follow-up

My initial impression of the Dr. who worked on my feet was good, not just good, I was impressed by his apparent expertise in all things plantar fasciitis. I was wrong.

Went for my follow-up appointment today and our conversation went like this.

Dr.: So how did everything go after the proceedure.

Me: Um, I was in excruciating pain and I had to borrow crutches to even get around.

Dr.: Thanks for that feedback. I hadn't really thought of that before. Maybe I should send crutches home with my future patients.

Me: (Slightly sarcastic)Or maybe a pain pill would be nice.

Dr.: (In astonishment) I didn't send you home with a prescription for Vicodin?

Me: Um, NO!

Dr.: Huh, I must of forgot. Sorry!

Me: Sorry?!? How about I punch you in the face really hard, kick you between the pockets a few times and then send you home without any pain pills? I think that would be the fair thing to do. And how about you just give me that prescription now and I can use it the next time I have an Ass-hat for a Dr.

Everyday, All Day

I hate family guy. I know, I know, to some of you that almost seems blasphemous. I agree it is funny, really funny, but I feel like I need to be washed down with bleach in a scalding hot shower after I watch it.

However, I love this clip and it pretty much sums up my life.

I Believe. . .

. . . in Karma, the law of moral causation or in other words if you do doo-doo to other people, doo-doo will be done unto you. The reason why I put the majority of my extra weight on from the waist up is because I made fun of one of my Jr. High teachers for looking like a chicken, tiny legs, big bulbous belly. Karma does not just include doo-doo though. Generous people never go without. Kindness comes back too.

. . . Heavenly Father has a sense of humor when it comes to my life. Example #1, when I said, "It would be nice to move someplace warm." Example #2, when I said, "I cannot, CANNOT, have another baby right now." Example #3, have you met my son Monkey Boy? Talk about Karmic retribution. Example #4, I grew up in a farming town, got out, and vowed never to move back. If you know where I live now, you are snickering a bit to yourself.

. . . all crawling babies when left on their own for more than 1 split second will find an outlet and try to suck on it.

. . . dads are incapable of dressing their children in matching clothing, even if all the child's clothes are hung in the closet in matching outfits. My hubby now puts ridiculous clothes on the kids just to see my reaction.

. . . little boys are born with a "need" to pee on things and a repertoire of sound effects ranging from car engines, and gun fire to dinosaur roars.

. . . complainers get more of what they complain about. If you don't have enough money, if your job sucks, if you don't have any friends, complain about it, focus on it and you will be sure to get more of the same. Focus your energy on solving the problem rather than complaining about it. You will get better results and the people around you won't want to duct tape your mouth shut.

. . . Along the same lines, negativity breeds negativity. All it takes is one bad apple in the bushel, tired colloquialism, but true. One negative person begets another, begets a whole festering mess of unhappy nasty people. When poop happens do not pay it forward. Retaliation does not make it better. Also, beware of nasty people in righteous clothing. "Wherefore, by their fruits, ye shall know them."

. . . you should never "diet." Love your lard butt! Life is too short to give up Doritos, ice cream, butter, pizza, brownies. I'm not saying to live in unhealthy processed bliss, but rather try and eat your veggies, exercise, eat an entire bag of Doritos occasionally and love yourself. I don't want to pass on weight consciousness and self loathing to my daughter.

Mom's Cortisone Shot According to DQ

Here she is, my little Drama Queen.

Click here to view this video

Holy Sugar Honey Iced Tea!!!!

*This post contains some language that may be inappropriate for some readers

Sometimes I am stupid. I have been running on sore feet for months now. In my twisted thinking, the pain was worth the tingly, giddy high I get from running.

Our insurance year is coming to an end and since we had met the out-of-pocket and everything would be covered until the end of June, I finally decided to go get things checked out. Plantar Fasciitis was the verdict. Sleeping with night splints and cortisone shots was the agreed upon treatment.

Yesterday I went in for my cortisone shots. Holy Hell-a-mighty!!!!!!! He warned me that they hurt. In fact he said, "These are extremely painful" multiple times and he gave me a prescription for Valium I was to take 1 hour prior to the procedure. Here was my thought process on this: "Surely they can't be that bad. Valium? Really? I am tough. I am not afraid of needles. I can totally do this. Valium? Don't need it, but I bet it will give me a nice legitimate high. I better fill that prescription."

I took the Valium. It did nothing!!!!!!! I was so disappointed. I got a little light headed on the drive over and that was it.

The whole fam went to the office with me, since I was supposed to be unable to drive. Hubby and the boys waited in the waiting room, but DQ insisted on going in with me. She was fascinated by the whole thing. She asked everyone questions and informed them when there was blood that needed wiped up. I have a video of her version, but for some reason it won't load. I'll post it later.

This is my version: Holy Shit, Hell, Damn, Dumb Bastard, Son of a Bitch!!!!!! Big Dude, who I originally thought would be unnecessary, was definitely needed to hold my leg down. I saw the needle and I thought, "Are you effing kidding me?"

This is not the actual needle. I stole this picture off someone's blog. The Dr. did say he used a 22 gauge spinal needle, which is what this is a picture of.

Dr.: "Going to feel a pinch now." The room starts to spin, I start my Lamaze breathing, and Big Dude lets out a "Wo!" I guess I was stronger than he expected. The suckiest part was that the pain was not constant. Sharp, then dull, then nothing, then nerve shock through my entire body. It hurt so bad I screamed like the stupid girls on TV giving birth. No lie.

The Dr. dug around, dug around, dug around some more and then said, "I am sorry, but I can't get it at this angle. I am going to have go again in a different spot." It is a good thing Big Guy was holding my leg, or I would have successfully kicked the Dr. in the teeth. I swear it took 5 minutes to do the first foot.

The second went much smoother, but I still screamed. After it was all over, nurses walking by kept poking their heads in to see who was making all the ruckus. They would say things like, "Ha Ha, What are you doing to her, Dr. Are you killing her or something?" "Wow, you sure can scream." Even the girl who checked me out commented on the noise. I was mortified.

Today, I can't even walk on the foot he jabbed twice. All in all. . . I am never getting a cortisone shot again, and when my body tells me to stop running I will listen.

Lov-e-ly Summer Infusions

I'm not gonna lie. I love iced tea in the summer and I am not opposed to drinking it caffeine free. Luzianne is the bestest. The problem is I like Sweet Tea, the Southern version, where you make a simple syrup first and then add the tea bags. I sometimes used Splenda instead of sugar. My hubby would come home, pour himself a big glass, take a sip, and then shoot me a nasty stink eye. He's not a fan of artificial sweeteners. Either way, sugar or Splenda, not so good for the new healthier, less processed version of myself anyway.



So I have started experimenting. I have found some lovely substitutes for the necessary ice cold summer beverage. I have been filling my tea jar with water and adding slices of lemon and mint or lemon and cucumber or lemon and cucumber and mint. When we got a coconut in our bountiful basket, I added a bit of the coconut water. I think Coconut water and lime might be tasty. It's been fun to experiment. Yummmmmm. So far all of the concoctions have been oh so refreshing and they make me feel all healthy and stuff. Yee-Ha!

Whizzer

This morning as I sat on the couch feeding Angel Baby, I heard Monkey boy's shuffle run to the bathroom, the smack of the toilet seat being lifted, and the splat of urine hitting the rim of the toilet, the wall, the floor, hitting anything but the water. There was an occasional tinkle as the urine passed from the wall to the floor at his feet, but mostly just a splat sound. "That's it! I am buying a urinal," I think to myself.

I have tried everything I can think of to get this kid to pee in the toilet. At first I thought, I'll just make him sit. He peed over the seat and hit the wall opposite him. Then I thought I would teach him to aim it himself. I threw some cheerios in the toilet and told him to take aim. He peed all over his hand and the wall behind the toilet. I bought a potty seat with a guard, he peed over the guard. My bathroom smells like an outhouse. Even the cleaner I use now registers as pee in my mind.

I checked on-line. You can get a urinal for less than $100. There is room for one next to the toilet in the kid's bathroom. Don't be surprised if the next time you visit, my bathroom has a new fixture.

Mooooooommy!

There is a never ending stream of tattle flowing from Drama Queens mouth, always several decibels higher than necessary.

Mommy, Monkey Boy is throwing mud at me!

Mommy, MB pulled the chicken's tail!

Mommy, the baseball will have to come inside. MB keeps throwing it at me. I am worried that he might hit my head and I might die.

Mommy, MB is opening the forbidden window.

Mommy, MB is cleaning the worms again.

Mommy, MB is putting rocks in the pool.

Mommy, he hit me with a fly swatter.

Mommy, MB poked me.

Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.

Edible Foodlike Substances and Other Updates

Be forewarned, this post is lengthy and not entertaining.

Holy Crap, I have been busy. Not in the fun, too many social gathering or cool stuff kind of way. In the stuck at home, bribing Monkey Boy to pee in the toilet and not in his pants, hosing mud out of the kiddies ears, cooking dinner (okay, ordering pizza), doing dishes, busting up the never-ending drama fest between Drama Queen and Monkey Boy, and all the while having a baby attached to my boob kinda busy.

The hubby is finally done with Baseball Spring Training so I get to see him more than just the hour between when he comes home and when he slips into unconsciousness on the couch. I guess there was the 5 or so minutes it took me to wake him up and get him to move off the couch and into the bed. Now he gets home at 3:30ish and he even has days off. Wa & Hoo!

Okay, enough explanations and excuses. This is the real reason I am writing. I made a few New Year's resolutions and this year instead of forgetting about them in February, I really am trying to accomplish them.

One goal was to eat less processed foods and go natural. I heard Michael Pollan on NPR (Yes, I am an NPR nerdy nerd) discussing his book Food Rules. Fascinating. I know he has written other books, but I am honestly not usually much of a nonfiction reader, and they are big, and I didn't think I would have the wherewithal to finish them. Food Rules is short, to the point and memorable. Some of my favorite food rules:

Rule #20 It's not food if it arrived through the window of your car.

Rule #36 Don't eat breakfast cereals that change the color of your milk.

Rule #39 Eat all the junk food you want as long as you cook it yourself.

Pollan differentiates real food from the processed crap we eat. He says there is food and then there is edible foodlike substances. It is amazing to me how our food industry has created this monster by trying to make food cheaper and addicting so we eat more of it. And perhaps because I am a teacher and deal with teenagers with lots of issues like ADD, OCD, ED, ODD, ADHD, BD, DBD, etc., I keep wondering if it may have a lot to do with our food. I know of people who are allergic to red food coloring. It doesn't give them hives, or stop their breathing, it changes the way they behave. Who is to say that all of the garbage we fill ourselves and our children with isn't causing emotional and behavioral problems.

And here is another little nugget of information that surprised me. Americans on average only spend 10% of their income on food, which is LESS than the citizens of any other nation. We spend our money on cheap quantity rather than quality.

That all said, the kids are now awake, I have piles of laundry to do, I have to go grocery shopping and a Sausage McGriddle washed down with a Diet Coke really sounds good about now!

Rambling Unsolicited Advice at Midnight, When I Really Should be in Bed Instead of Blogging

What is it with men and the need for them to give advice to women about exercise? I was at the park running with my friend tonight and while we were stopped for a moment to discuss our running strategy for the evening, some dad of a little leaguer walked by and said, "Don't just stop. You got to walk it off." Really? Who asked ya?

It reminded me of the days when I used to actually have time to go to the weightroom and the vertically challenged boys who were as wide as they were tall always had to come by and give me "pointers". Good grief. Go drink a protein shake and leave me alone. Do not expect me to bow before your enlightened exercise holiness. And just because I am a girl, doesn't mean I am an exercise retard. Oh and by the way, your neck may be as big around as my thigh, but it doesn't change the fact that you are only 4'8".

So, this is my unsolicited advice to men who can't refrain from giving unsolicited advice to me (and I would dare say most other women) while I am working out.

"Please just zip it and keep on walkin' by. While I am working out, I feel particularly kick assy (yes, that is the scientific term), and I am awfully tempted to kick you in the groin. Have a nice day!"

P.S. I ran 8 of the "1/2 mile loops" around the park, which I think is about 3 miles. Wa-hoo! And, yes, I know I am crappy at math, but I didn't add that up wrong. Apparently city planners either can't measure or they lie, CUZ I'm pretty sure I don't run a 9 min mile, which is the time it takes me to run 2 of the "1/2 mile loops."

The List , Dun Dun Dun. (Lower the pitch as you say each Dun, so it sounds ominous!)

My mom was and is a list maker. Each Saturday my brother and I each had our own dreaded LIST. It was a list of house cleaning chores that had to be completed before we could play. I swear the list took us until midnight to complete.

Now I wake each morning with a LIST in my head titled, "Things I am finally going to get done today". I never get it done. Usually I only get to about 2 things. My list just keeps getting longer. Today my list is especially long and I haven't even managed to put a shirt on yet.

Faux Moby Wrap

I made this for my Bro's Wife.




Drama Queen was my photographer. So the pictures may be a little blurry.

I Could Write a Book!

I have a hard time with stupidity. Stupid parents are the hardest for me to deal with. That was the hardest part of teaching, watching stupid parents do a crap job of raising their children, turning them into stupids too. And then the stupid children get pregnant at 15 and become stupid parents themselves.

A few days ago I was discussing a stupid parent with a friend. I went home and couldn't sleep. I fantacized about calling the mom up, "I know you don't know me, but you, my friend, are a moron"

So, to combat stupid parents everywhere I think I should write a book. I mean I am just as much an expert as the crazy Christian guy who wrote the Babywise books or some child psychotherapist who has only read about children in books, but doesn't actually have any of his own. (Does anyone know if that Ferber guy has kids?) ( And seriously "Ferberization"? It sounds like the process by which creepy animated animal toys hypnotize small children into doing some evil mastermind's bidding)

In my book I will include chapters on ground breaking parenting technics like "Lock Yourself in the Bathroom and Enjoy a Popsicle While your Kids Scream at the Door" and "Sick of you Kids Demanding your Attention? Why Don't you Pop in a Disney Movie?"

I have already started on the quick reference lists I will include in the appendixes. Here is a sample:

Appendex I : Fantastic Empty Threats.

"Get in here before I beat your butt off!"

"If you don't clean up this mess you are never watching TV again in your life!"

"Stay in your bed and go to sleep or I am going to tie you to it!"

Appendex II : Quick Motivators

Use bribes whenever possible. "If you get in the car without throwing a fit in the parking lot, we can go to QT and get you a 32 oz. slushy."

Repeat your requests at least 3 times in a row using screaming hysterical voice. "Move it! Move it! Move it!"

Shake your fist in a threatening manner.

I am positive that with the implementation of my scientifically proven* parenting technics, your kids will turn out self confident, well adjusted, and you can live a life minimally interrupted by their needs.

*The author of this book is not actually a scientist, but she did use the highly acclaimed scientific method on her own children. She learned this scientific method during her studies at Hazelton Elementary.

Update on the "tried and true"

I went to do another load of dishes. The citric acid made it clump up. Weird! It still did a nice job, but I had to break it up and shake it a bit. I am thinking maybe I will keep the citric acid separate and just add it when I start the washer.

Dish Voila--Quest for Cheap and Natural Dishwasher Detergent

I mentioned in my last post there would be more on natural cleaners. There are lots of recipes on line, but I didn't want to post anything until I had tried it and I liked it. So, after many loads of chalky dishes, I have solved the cheap and natural dishwasher detergent mystery.

My dishwasher has always left a chalky film on my dishes. Different detergents left varying degrees of chalky, but no matter how light the gritty film is on a glass, you still don't want to drink out of it. I tried Jet Dry, no bueno, no worko, mucho gritto. So, when I tried my natural concoction, no surprise, the dishes came out gritty.

Tuesday night, after I re-washed all of my glasses and silverware by hand, and kicked the dishwasher a few times, I decided to do a little research on-line. I realized my problem was not the detergent, but the hard water build up in the washer. The miracle product that is the rage on all the natural mommy blogs is Lemi-Shine, available at Target and The Store That Must Not Be Named.

Really I think it is just citric acid, but it really does work like a miracle. You put it in the detergent cup, run your dishwasher empty for about 5-10 minutes, stop the dishwasher and leave the water in it overnight, and then finish the cycle in the morning.

I did my first load of dishes in my clean dishwasher with my homemade detergent last night and they came out clean and slick, no grit!

So here is the recipe for homemade dishwasher detergent that works!

1 cup baking soda

1 cup borax

2 packets of Lemonade Koolaid mix.
(you know the kind that doesn't have the sugar.
It is just citric acid with a little artificial flavoring)

Put 1 TBS in the pre-wash cup and 1 TBS in the wash cup.

Use White Vinegar instead of Jet Dry.

New Year's Blah-D-Blah

Yes, I have New Year's resolutions. Oh yes! I do.

1. To be less of a Judgmental Jerk Wad. I realize I am judgmental. I am very intolerant of people who are intolerant. And yes, I realize that this is hypocritical, and I hate hypocritical people. They are so fake. So, you see the inherent problem with my behavior.

So, the specifics on how I will achieve this goal. I will not talk bad about individuals to anyone but my husband. (Hey, a girl's gotta vent sometime.) I will only make fun of stereotypical groups of people (i.e. Typical Wal-mart Shoppers) and I will only do it for the sake of humor, not maliciously.

2. To live a less processed and chemical life. I find the concept of sustainability very intriguing. Honestly, I would love to live on lots of acreage somewhere in the Pacific Northwest with a few close friends, raise yummy organic food and make as much stuff as we can. The boys will still go to work, the kids will feed the goats and chickens while me and my friends knit cute hats made from angora rabbit fur to sell at the local farmer's market. I don't see it happening any time soon, but it is a nice little dream.

Until then, we will eat our own chicken eggs. We will have a garden, dagnabbit! I will continue to use cloth diapers. I will make as much of our food from scratch as I can. No more cream of salt and MSG soup, no more cans of dough that pop, no more store bought mixes (with the exception of brownie mix, because homemade just aren't the same!) I am going to check around and find some locally grown meats and if we can afford it, we will eat it. I have also started experimenting with homemade natural cleaners. There will be lots more on this later, but so far it has been very fun and the stuff really works and works well!

So far that is it for my New Year's resolutions. I would like to add that I am going to quit caffeine, but we all know that is a fantasy. Maybe someday they will invent a patch or a pill like the ones to get off nicotine. Until that day, give me my Diet Coke and no body gets spanked!

My Spidey Sense is Tingling

Isn't it amazing how the day you become a mother you are endowed with super hearing powers. In the middle of the night, all my kids have to do is breath funny and I am instantly awake and alert. I swear I can hear them thinking about crying.

Night after night, I am the one to rush down the hall to comfort a little one. When I go back to my bed (which is now cold), I listen to my peacefully sleeping husband's soft snores and I ponder yet another injustice in the genders. Then I "accidentally" kick him in the shin.

Joyful Girl

I haven't felt inspired to write lately. The usual fodder for my writing flame is stuff that irritates me and lately I haven't been irritated. Perhaps it's the weather.

Really I think it is partly that I am starting a little on-line business and it keeps my brain going. It is kind of filling the creative void that has been increasing in depth ever since I quit working. I am pretty sure it won't be amazing. I am positive I won't be the next famous bloggy hip stay at home mommy with amazing pictures of my gorgeous, perfect children sporting my newest creations, but I am having fun and hopefully it will make enough money to pay for more fabric to make more stuff.

I am also running with some girls from church. Love those endorphins. Love making new friends. Maybe I will lose a little of my BIF (Butt in Front).

Anyway, the late night talk shows are beginning, which means I have been messing around on the internet for way too long. Off to bed! Here's to more joyful days!

Name Please?

I have been thinking about starting a little business on-line selling nursing covers and hopefully diapers made from recycled T-shirts. The diapers are proving to be a little more difficult to get going (more on that later).

Anyway, I have been trying to think of a business name so I can put together a website. Any ideas? I am fresh out of creativity today.

I'm not crafty! I'm an artisan!

So here are some of the projects I was stressing over.

Scarf for Sis N Law.

Lap quilts for Bro and his wifey.

Reversible capes (idea stolen from my cousin) for monkey boy and niece and nephews.

Sun painted fat quarters for my quiltin' momma.

Doorway puppet theater for Drama Queen. She got the puppets last year for Christmas.


So, I'm not sure DQ will be believing in Santa for long. She told my mom, "Santa did not make my puppet theater. It was my mom's creation. I saw the picture of the faces she was working on." I told her that I helped Santa because he was so busy. She told me, "No, the elves help Santa." I said, "Well, Santa came. He ate your cookies and drank the milk." She replied, "Yeah, he ate the cookies." Then she paused for a minute, I could see the wheels turning in her little brain. "No! You ate the cookies!" At that point I just gave up and dropped the subject. Good grief!