tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80483435346959637942024-02-18T20:16:32.554-08:00Being a Grown Woman Ain't a Part Time JobWho needs a day off?Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-54247175079565252872013-06-14T08:49:00.000-07:002013-06-14T08:49:00.021-07:00The never ending Pity-Party...I'm a VERY empathetic person. I swear it. I can hardly watch the news anymore because it's always sad stuff and my heart just breaks for people, and then I'm up half the night boring my poor husband with all these stories I saw of tragedy and it's just ...REALLY emotionally draining for me.<br />
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That said.<br />
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Some...People's...CHILDREN. </div>
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There are a few choice people I've had to hide their updates. Because it was and is just CONSTANT.<br />
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"No one is ever there for me" (insert comments from the 200 plus people on their friends list that vary from "Hey, didn't we just hang out yesterday?!" to "Well I called but you didn't answer" to "What's going on sweetie?! I love you!")<br />
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"I have no true friends." (insert comments from the 200 plus people on their friends list professing their friendship and love for said person)<br />
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"I need prayers. Life is so hard right now."<br />
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"Nothing ever goes my way."<br />
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blahblahblahblah mother-bleeping- BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!<br />
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I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry they feel alone, and I'm sorry they apparently have more on their plates than they feel capable of dealing with. I'm sure, deep down, they may actually feel this way...but it's obviously nothing more than a cry for attention or that they are in need of some false validation that they are, indeed, worth something.<br />
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Stop that. You're grown ass women. (Men don't do this. At least not in my experience.)</div>
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I'm not saying you shouldn't ask for prayers if you feel you need them. I do that. Something like "Silent prayer request please." and most people? Are respectful enough not to ask what for. Because I indicated by the word SILENT that it is not something that needs discussion in public mass, just need a few extra folks to keep me in their thoughts. And it is certainly not a daily occurrence. (I've been on FB close to ten years. Done this TWICE. for real.) </div>
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But the constant "woe is me?" crap. For real. Unless you are homeless and starving to death and suffering from an incurable disease to top ALL that?</div>
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Your life rocks, at least by comparison. </div>
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For the love of pete if you feel THAT strongly about how horrible your life is? Take some advice from my Daddy.</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">The only person responsible for YOUR happiness? Is YOU.</span></i></b></div>
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You aren't going to get it from likes on FB, you aren't going to get it from a bunch of near strangers who are genuinely concerned you are possibly going to cut yourself if they don't post the damn near obligatory "hey , What's up?" on your newest sad post. </div>
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It's absurd. Be a do-er. Get off your ass and change your situation but in the name of all that is sane please quit vague-booking. You are not a 12 year old hormone ridden child anymore. </div>
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Yea. I'm done. I wish I had some clever way to end this but, sadly, I don't. It's enough to make me want to quit FB for awhile. If I didn't enjoy seeing what my HAPPY friends and family are up to so much I would gladly take my annual hiatus early. (It's scheduled for July, just a heads up.)</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-1850060503799472122013-06-06T06:23:00.000-07:002013-06-06T06:23:06.858-07:00Thoughts on turning 31...<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>I just turned 31</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Last month. wow.</i></b></div>
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Weird.<br />
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On the OTHER hand?<br />
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30 has been awesome. Really awesome. Like, I kinda wish I could have just stayed 30 because it's for sure been my favorite age.<br />
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I've learned a lot since my 21st birthday, probably too much to recount here, but I can tell you a few things I've learned in just the last YEAR that I think will be pivotal in my continued 30's.<br />
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<b>Numero Uno:</b><br />
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My natural hair color? Is pretty bad ass.<br />
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I've had highlights, low lights, a BLEACHING NIGHTMARE FROM hell this past summer where my love for my husband was truly tested when I let him highlight my hair, and his love for me was tested when I spent a few hundred bucks (multiple dye jobs, multiple hair cuts) trying to fix it. (don't ever do that. let your husband color your hair I mean. If you do make that mistake, feel free to spend whatever it takes to fix it. Short of shaving your head, and even then, hell...go for it. Britney rocked it and came back, why can't you?)<br />
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What has grown back after I chopped off over 8 inches of my locks? Is a really pretty brown with natural red highlights. Just like My Tid Bit's.<br />
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No desire to ever color it again. I keep seeing friends and family lightening up for the summer and the urge hits but then I think, I'm gonna be the hot BRUNETTE on the beach this summer :-) Not the bottle blonde.<br />
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I'm diggin it. My baby likes my brown hair anyway :-)<br />
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<b>Numero Two:</b><br />
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Speaking of Beaches? Sunscreen is important. I take so much better care of my skin now than I used to. I will say this, I often worry about my wrinkles and freckles but I look at a lot of other people in my age group and go "THANK YOU OIL OF OLAY!" (And Garnier BB Cream. Buy it. It's the shiz)<br />
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<b>Numero Tres:</b><br />
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The scale means nothing. It's all about inches. :-) That was a seriously hard lesson for me to learn. Being skinny does NOT equate to healthy, and eating better means feeling better not being skinnier.<br />
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<b>Numero Quatro:</b><br />
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I'm fricking LACTOSE INTOLERANT. I mean, what the heck? I go 28 years without a problem, have bitty bit, and then BAM, ice cream makes my tummy hurt and it took me ALMOST TWO YEARS to figure it out. Made losing weight a lot easier though!<br />
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Le sigh. I need to take Ginko.<br />
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<b>Numero Quince:</b><br />
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<b><i>I am enough.</i></b></div>
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That one took a full 30 years to get. Think on that ...<br />
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So far 31 has been good. Much better than 21 :-) I even LIKE getting carded for alcohol now. Makes me feel all young and stuff ( again...THANK YOU OIL OF OLAY!)</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-78530776447886393912013-06-06T06:19:00.000-07:002013-06-06T06:19:34.267-07:00Thanking your Mama....Over the many years of my life, my relationship with my mother has had it's ups and downs.<br />
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I never fully, and I can admit this, appreciated her. I for a very long time, considered her an overly neurotic thorn in my side that was sent here simply to nag me about everything. I'm pretty ashamed to admit that now. However, since becoming a mother myself it has opened the doors for us to communicate, and LOVE more openly.<br />
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Because I get it now. Or, at least I thought I did.<br />
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Dance recitals change everything. </div>
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That's right. Lil Bit has her FIRST dance recital. Next weekend. I'm more nervous and excited than she is!<br />
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So about a month ago, we had our big "recital" meeting at the dance studio. We covered all sorts of details, from lining up, to rehearsal schedules, to costumes and makeup and recital cover ups (they can't show their costumes in the theatre unless they are on stage...)<br />
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I came home from that meeting near tears. It was so...stressful. More money, more things to buy, find, having to take a half day off work for a dress rehearsal, find babysitting for the other kids while I'm THERE, buying tickets... Rhinestones and sequins and bling OH MY.<br />
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My husband was pretty irritated. "MORE MONEY?!" (Insert manly rant about all things girly being stupid and expensive here) "GUNS ARE CHEAPER! LEMME TEACH THEM TO HUNT!"<br />
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Sigh. Men.<br />
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Anyway. I got over the stress and jumped right in. She's only in the one number, it's early in the evening. We should be cool.<br />
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About the time I started assembling and putting all the rhinestones (over 50) and sequins (several hundred) on her costume, I called my Mommy.<br />
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"I don't remember this being this hard when we were kids mom. Why was it easier?"<br />
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And she laughed. And laughed and laughed some more. I was kinda annoyed! "WHY are you laughing at me! It wasn't like this when we were kids!"<br />
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She was kind, reminded me that at one point my sister and I were in 4-5 dances, EACH, with my sister often being chosen for company numbers so that added 2 more for her, so 7... She and my daddy spent THOUSANDS on dance recital.<br />
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We weren't rich y'all. So I don't even know how they made that happen.<br />
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That night the memories started to come back. My mom and her best friend/cousin, patiently sewing and gluing while my sister and my cousin and I stood on chairs in our dining room. Bitching about how we were hungry, you stuck me with that needle, my legs are TIRED, it's LATE, I don't wanna do this anymore...etc etc. Costume after costume every weekend for weeks. Music playing softly in the back while they sipped on diet coke and chatted, enjoying every minute of it. I don't remember getting in trouble for being a brat. I remember my Mommy smiling, telling me how pretty I looked, occasionally swearing when she stuck herself with a needle or burned herself with hot glue...but no complaints, no VISIBLE stress.<br />
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I remember one recital, my brother got hurt at a friends and had to go to the ER. My mom's best friend got us to the theater, got us dressed, other friends moms helped with make up.And I remember vividly hating my brother for a few minutes and being VERY angry with my Mom and (hey, I was like...7 okay?) And just being pissed beyond all reason because how DARE she not be here. Stupid brother.<br />
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And I remember pouting my way through the entrance of that dance, finding my dot on the stage, looking out...and there was my mom. Standing off to the side by an entrance where she had snuck in, camera in hand...the biggest possible smile on her face, and pride...lots of pride.<br />
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I was a lucky girl.<br />
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I sent my mom a text in the middle of the night. Thanking her, for never complaining, for smiling, for putting undue financial stress on her and daddy that was not necessary and obviously unappreciated, for being there even though it meant dragging my brother to two separate ER's because the wait was too long at the first one because she "couldn't miss her girls recital..."<br />
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My husband will never get it. I don't expect him too. The only thing I likened it to that made any sense to him was "How would you feel if you missed Lil Man getting a deer?"<br />
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I'm excited to start this journey with my girls. I can honestly say I can't wait until all three of them are up there one day... wearing gaudy red lipstick and dancing their hearts out because they want to see mommy's smile from the stage.<br />
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Our seats are in the balcony, but I'm going to park myself by an entrance door closer to the stage.<br />
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I know just the view I want her to see when she's up there.<br />
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(Love you mom)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-4855644446012016582013-06-04T07:12:00.000-07:002013-06-07T07:13:14.806-07:00Tell All Tuesdays...Confession:<br />
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I'm socially awkward. </div>
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BUT, not in the typical sense of the condition. I'm not by any means shy. I'm actually quite outgoing, friendly, rather silly, and extroverted in just about every sense.</div>
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However, I'm pretty much incapable of being "Fake." </div>
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Being put in awkward situations, such as ya know, dealing with people I don't care for. Particularly if these people have a history of being assholes to folks I care about.</div>
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Now, society dictates I must be polite and kind to people, particularly in public settings such as work, church, Walmart etc. </div>
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But damned if people don't make it hard for me. </div>
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People who mess with my kids are the worst. There was this kid messing with my son, several witnesses to the bullying that took place, and the mom of said bully blamed my kid.</div>
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I want her to suffer. But alas, she has better "public standing" than lowly ole Mama AGU, so I'm resigned by my "status" as a nobody to behave myself unless I want to make things worse for my kid.</div>
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This doesn't fly with me. Every time I've seen this woman since I just turn around and walk off. Why? </div>
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My face, apparently, tells on me a lot.</div>
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My husband is known to whisper "Baby, fix your face" when I'm confronted with people I'd rather like to hurt, or at least give a good and well deserved tongue lashing. </div>
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My voice gets all high pitched and weird as I force a smile to my face and exchange the customary "pleasantries" (aka bullshit southern girl small talk "How's your mama an them!!!???") and I pretend to be just THRILLED to see this person who in my honest opinion should be gator bait. I say all the right things apparently.</div>
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But my face and eyes apparently tell the person exactly what I think of them.</div>
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I've only recently been made aware that this was going to cause a problem for me when an incident with someone I don't care for happened at work. My boss and coworkers started giggling when said person walked off and I said "WHAT?! I wasn't rude was I?! I was firm, but polite!?" </div>
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A dear friend said..."Well....your words weren't rude... but if you'd looked at me like that? I'd have backed out of the room too."</div>
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Damn. Cover blown. </div>
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I just suck at it folks. I have a really really difficult time making my face match my words when placed in these situations. I think it's going to be even harder for me as the kids get older and I'm introduced to more people who suck at life! </div>
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Mr. AGU finds this amusing "I thought you were a trained actress sweetie, how were you ever any good at that?" </div>
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1) I never said I was any good. Not being able to make direct eye contact with people cost me more than one part. Especially if it was an intense audition opposite someone I didn't like. Amplified the drama for sure but the REAL mama AGU had a tendency to look a lot angry during "happy" scenes when I didn't like the bitch I was reading with. </div>
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2) Since when is being "REAL" a bad thing?</div>
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It's going to get worse, I'm told. I'm going to have to tame my inner mama bear as the kids, especially the girls, get older and start developing their friendships with other kids and I'm forced to deal with parents who can't seem to let their children handle their own social issues. (Intervention in a kid's friend problem should be the last resort y'all, not undertaken lightly, and only if there is going to be harm to your child if an adult doesn't step in. They have to learn to handle peers. End of rant.) </div>
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I expect I'm going to have to take some more acting classes or something just so I don't make an ass out of myself. I don't like being fake. It makes my tummy hurt, to quote Tid Bit. I'm not that person that thinks of all that clever crap I could have or should have said after the fact. I tend to let it fly. I spent too much time worrying about what other folks thought of me in my early twenties and late teens. I'm too old for games. I don't see why I should have to pretend to like people who by all accounts never grew up. </div>
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Another thing I tend to do if I don't like folks? Or if I'm uncomfortable with the conversation. is pretty much cut them off and end the conversation. It's rude. I know it. I'm having trouble caring. Bad Mama AGU.</div>
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I have a bad habit of interrupting folks when I DO like them too. But it's harder to explain that. I may have a bit of ADD. A good friend of mine calls it my "JUMP THINKS." When having a conversation or, ya know, not, my mind races. I'm listening, but my brain goes off into random tangents based on the original conversation. </div>
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Ex.<b><i> " It's a beautiful day, we should go to the beach!" (Insert them talking more about weather and beaches here, they go on to make plans and set times and all that... I'm listening but here is what's going on in my brain."</i></b></div>
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<b>"BEACH. SUNSCREEN. OUT OF SUNSCREEN. WALMART.I HATE WALMART. NEVER ENOUGH CASHIERS. WONDER IF IT'S ON SALE AT THE GROCERY STORE. GROCERY STORE,OUT OF MILK.LACTOSE INTOLERANT. MISS ICE CREAM..."</b></div>
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<i><b>Them: They just had the beach clean up so the seaweed should be gone! It'll be great!</b></i></div>
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<b>ME: "Let's go to dairy queen. I like their steak fingers"</b></div>
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<i><b>(Insert what.the.hell.look. from friend/family member/husband HERE)</b></i></div>
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Needless to say I have a reputation for being random. O:) </div>
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Obviously, my intent was not to be rude :-( At all!!! I'm just a little insane I think... </div>
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Suggestions on ways to get the "I wanna cut you" look off my face when confronted with assholes? I can try and work on the rest I swear! :-) </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-64709260277443352882013-04-05T21:48:00.000-07:002013-04-05T21:48:41.436-07:00The Return of "Mighty Midget"...<div style="text-align: center;">
My middle daughter likes to scare the hell out of me.</div>
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No really, how many years ago was it I posted about her trip to the hospital over an infected ant bite?<br />
My <a href="http://beingagrownwomanaintaparttimejob.blogspot.com/2010/10/mightiness-of-mighty-midget.html" target="_blank">Mighty Midget</a> sure knows how to turn mama's hair grey...<br />
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It's spring. Lots of nasty viruses floating around. Needless to say I've been waiting.<br />
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Waiting for our turn. Or have you forgotten that Little people are fond of waging <a href="http://beingagrownwomanaintaparttimejob.blogspot.com/2009/10/real-weapons-of-mass-destruction.html" target="_blank">Biological Warfare</a> on their parents, classmates, teachers etc?<br />
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So it began, last weekend...with a couple of the kids at school coming down with a stomach virus.<br />
Then a coworker and her family...<br />
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By Monday? I had less than half of the expected students in my class. Only it wasn't just the stomach virus. It was a NUMBER of VARIOUS viruses that were attacking the little people and adults alike. Everything from strep, flu, stomach flu, sinus infections...<br />
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And yet, we were all good...<br />
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Tuesday Lil Bit and Tid Bit (aka Mighty Midget) had their 3 & 4 year old checks ups. So I figured, I'm covered. SURE, Bitty Bit stayed home with a cold with Daddy Monday, but the Doc had cleared her for school. Cold Schmold. I got this.<br />
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Pedi is impressed with my darling daughter's impressive vocabulary and overall growth, they are just perfect. Everyone is happy.<br />
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Lil Bit had to get shots. Her happiness was short lived. But I was satisfied, amid all this awful illness, my kids had the fortune to have a pre-scheduled MD appt, and look at THAT, clean bill of health.<br />
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That was my first mistake. Thinking we were in the clear because we had already been to the doctor.<br />
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So we get back to school/work, have a great afternoon. (My job is sadly a little boring with all those kids out...kept looking around and counting and feeling like I'd forgotten a kid in the toilet or something.)<br />
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We leave, come home, have a snack, go to pick up Bubba. Lil Bit crashes out in the backseat, nothing new. I get her home and she feels warm, but she was cuddled up under a blanket, no biggie. Then she lays down on the couch. And she has that LOOK.<br />
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Any mama knows that look. You can just look in your babies eyes and know something is off. Lil Bit? Is rarely if ever sick. We had JUST gotten a clean bill of health.<br />
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But she had immunizations. She's gonna feel like crap tonight. I expected that. I take her temp. 103.00.<br />
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Wait...wha? That's too high for shots... I ask around to some friends. Apparently it varies. I give her some Motrin and dismiss it.<br />
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Daddy gets home, we are getting ready to serve up dinner. Bubba's soccer practice is cancelled so YAY, family dinner at a decent hour. Until Mr. AGU picks up Tid Bit and says<br />
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"You know she is burning UP, right?"...<br />
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Now Tid Bit has fever.<br />
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Whiskey.Tango. Foxtrot...over.<br />
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So I gear up for a night of ...well, what? I have no idea WHAT the hell is wrong with my kids?! Other than fever they seem fine, no one is complaining really. I call my boss, give her the heads up. We agree that if I break the fevers, I'll be in tomorrow. No biggy.<br />
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I wake them both up every few hours, monitoring their temps (they never fully "broke," but I was able to keep them low enough I felt comfortable.) Alternating Tylenol/Motrin as I know to do at this point...<br />
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blahblah...<br />
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Fast forward to the next morning, they are still running relatively high fevers, Mr. AGU and I had a VERY long night, I call my boss because it doesn't appear I'll be at work.<br />
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Fast forward another few hours. Lil Bit, perfectly fine, bouncing off the walls. Driving me nuts. Tid Bit....not so much. She's lethargic, won't quit crying. Still burning up with a fever. at 11:45 am, it was 104.5. I gave her Tylenol. By 12:30... it was 105.3. I start making the plans to head to the ER.<br />
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This isn't my first rodeo, I have four kids for the love of Pete. But I could NOT break this kids fever. She was convulsing violently from chills and sobbing... I'm in the middle of getting her dressed and she goes limp.<br />
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Rag.Doll.Limp. She's out.<br />
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I slap her (gently) I yell her name, I tickle her... she will not come to. My baby won't wake up.<br />
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Now... I'm not even going to describe that moment because I'm not sure I can. The best I can do is what I've told everyone who has asked what happened.<br />
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I've never, not once in my life, EVER been that fucking terrified.<br />
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She was unresponsive, so I threw her and her sisters in the truck and booked it to the ER.<br />
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And caught every.damn.red. light. on the way there.<br />
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Mr. AGU actually beat me there form work. She was out cold the entire time.<br />
Mr. AGU yanked her out of her car seat, and she came to, crying..<br />
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I've never been so relieved to hear one of my kids scream.<br />
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He ran her inside and I parked the car, He already had her signed in and was soothing her when I finally got in the building.<br />
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We bought cold water bottles from the vending machine and rubbed them on her, made her drink as much as she could handle.<br />
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And waited. And we waited some more.<br />
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For an hour and a half.<br />
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And then, hahaha, funny joke on Mama AGU... her fever is broken. She is nice and sweaty and cool.<br />
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And the nurse looks at me like I'm nuts and actually had the audacity to ask me if my thermometer was broken. (I didn't slap the bitch I swear but my GOD did I want to...)<br />
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We were dismissed. Literally. They didn't even do a full work up on my child. I was so disgusted I have actually informed my insurance company if they get a bill from that hospital they are to shred it, no services were rendered.<br />
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I already paid for the fucking water.<br />
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Since then, we've had multiple conversations with the Pedi (who is equally disgusted as we are at their lack of treatment for my Tid Bit) and he examined her and said there are no lasting effects of the possible Fibral Seizure. (No way to know. Seeing as how the hospital didn't do anything.)<br />
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Turns out Tid Bit and Lil Bit have a nasty viral throat infection that's going around. (Which, had they done a strep test, would have saved me money on antibiotics they prescribed to cover their ass as they did nothing.)<br />
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The Pedi is confident she will make a full bounce back recovery. I trust HIM so it's all good.<br />
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But God is good. All the time. I'm pretty sure my children all have amazing Guardian Angels. How else do you explain Lil Bit's immune system of steal, Tid Bit's ability to shrug off near death experiences, and Bitty Bit's ability to bump into every piece of furniture in my home with her HEAD and not concuss herself... Lil Man has a good immune system as well, and narrowly escaped breaking his foot and neck recently...<br />
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Guardian Angels.. saving my Midgets, and I'm very VERY thankful.<br />
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(go hug your babies...)<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-86009059031353451942013-03-17T19:34:00.001-07:002013-03-17T19:34:08.971-07:00One and a half years...not as long as I thought! So I was thinking about this blog this morning and how, like sooo many other things in my life it gets left by the wayside in the interest of (you guessed it) Being a grown up. <br />
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I'm seriously frickin busy y'all. Like, if I could put my life in a nutshell? Well hell, that wouldn't even remotely cover it. <br />
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Let's recap. Tid Bit just turned 3...that's right. 3. Yesterday in fact. Meanwhile, Bitty bit, is running around and saying words and falling into everything at almost 2, Lil bit and Chico are growing by leaps and bounds and in activities. I've been back to work for the last 18 months (ahhhh...that's what I was doing. ;-) <br />
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The hubster and I recently returned from an awesome Second Honeymoon. (In early celebration of our 5th year of marriage...go us...most folks gave us 2 tops...look at us beating all those HIGH expectations for our success ;-)<br />
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I woke up in a reflective mood this morning. Just on how nutso this life of mine is and how much I love it most days and how NICE that vacation was just the two of us, and how different it was souvenier shopping alone as opposed to the ABSOLUTE MADHOUSE it was shopping for soccer cleats and shinguards and practice wear today with ALL four children solo (Tid bit almost fell out of a basket... oof.) And still how much fun we had...<br />
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and see, I've forgotten how to do this. I haven't blogged in so damn long I can't string together a cohesive thought this late at night...maybe there is a reason I quit doing this (bah) I've always rambled but crap this is BAD, are you STILL reading this? REALLY? because if so KUDOS you have got the patience of JOBE because at this point I'm quite literally typing at fricking random here (I may need to make coffee I have chores to do and backpacks to get together and lunches to make and oh who am I kidding...)<br />
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Only about half of that will get done tonight. The rest will get done in the wee hours in the morning after I force myself out of bed at some unworldly hour to work out (yea...don't hate, I'm down 15 pounds and 2 almost 3 sizes...) and then I'll get the gang in gear for the day...<br />
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This is my life now. lol It's a jumbled mess of strung together chaos that only I understand at this point (because I write it down ...trust me...my planner and I are best friends...) <br />
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And ................<br />
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I really need to find my car keys... no clue what bitty bit did with them. They are probably under the crappile they call a bedroom in there... (Fact #245871 of having small children share a bedroom, no matter how meticulously you organize that closet...little hands will destroy it in a matter of minutes, throw it to the floor, and proceed to lose your car keys under it...)<br />
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I can't say when I'll be back, but I'm around. Living and enjoying the hell out of it 99% of the time. My life is fun. It's probably a miracle I don't drink... It most certainly isn't for everyone lol My sister recently asked me how much coffee I have to consume in a day after a trip to the zoo with my 3 bits and her daughter... I can only say not as much as I used to. It's an acquired form of exhaustion I live in.<br />
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ciao' ....for now XOXOXO Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-14546081514736476532011-10-11T11:42:00.000-07:002011-10-11T11:42:40.285-07:00Questions you never thought you'd ask:<div align="center">Double Trouble</div><div align="center"><em>(No really, they only look sweet and innocent...)</em></div><br />
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GIRLS...WHY is there bologna in my toilet? <br />
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GIRLS....WHY is there sharpie marker on the BABY?<br />
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GIRLS...WHERE are your underwear/diapers and why aren't they on your BODY?<br />
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GIRLS...WHY is there wine in mommy's glass at 4:30 pm...(j/k...it's closer to 6:30...but you get the idea)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-75963278592514716712011-10-05T09:18:00.000-07:002011-10-05T09:18:21.972-07:00I'm baaaaackkMiss me? It's only been...what 8 months? <br />
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It's been busy I assure you. <br />
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I was kinda busy making another human, and then taking care of the ones I've already made, and then taking care of the new human when her precious self finally decided to show up. <br />
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HOWEVER, I have been journaling, have lots of fun stuff heading your way. Or maybe not so fun to YOU but I've had fun so I feel the need to share. I can't promise I'll post with anymore regularity, but I will tell ya I've got MY idea of fun jotted down and ready to go. At some point. When I get to it (as I type this there are not one but TWO heathens fussing for my attention...life is never slow around here.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-23564573464825320302011-04-22T06:59:00.000-07:002011-04-22T06:59:32.566-07:00Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder...Ya know you've missed me.<br />
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I wish I could say I've been doing something VERY exciting but in all honesty I've just been living. Or at least my usually half ass version of it.<br />
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The last month has been nothing short of INSANE- at least as far as timelines go. <br />
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Which brings me to this blog post. Over the last month I've planned birthday parties, christenings, made it to church all but one Sunday, shuttled the family to and from soccer practice and games, been SICK AS A DOG, and Mr. AGU was on what is known as "shutdown"... meaning they shut the plant he works in down completely and everyone works 7 days a week, 12 hours a day so they can knock out all the needed repairs on the unit in one swoop. <br />
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He pulled the night shift- so I was flying solo for a good period of time, and fairly ill at that. (Though thanks to my inlaws watching the girls for a few hours I was able to swing into a doctor and get some antibiotics round about the end of week 3- and am now feeling much better.)<br />
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Mr. AGU, feeling all sweet and bad about my having run myself into the ground- (quite literally actually- I passed out in a grocery store last week. Highly humiliating, I don't recommend that.) arranged for me to get my hair cut and colored (First time professionally in over a year?) and I also got to get a mani pedi (also over a year) which was- ironically- eye opening.<br />
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I was starting to get offended when we went out in public. People already look at us a bit funny when the whole motely crew is about. (especially minus Daddy- and the fact that none of my kids are clones of each other, I've actually been asked if they all have the same father *facepalm*)<br />
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However that aside these looks weren't the usual "AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA LOOK AT THE FERTILITY FREAKSHOW!!!" looks I'm used to getting and have been dealing with for at least 2 years now.<br />
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These were-pity. And that didn't feel very nice. People kept looking at me like they felt incredibly sorry for me and I couldn't for the life of me figure out WHY?! Hey- I've GOT this, Daddy is working a lot but we are handling it ya know? Everyone is clean, fed- sure the house has fallen to shit and back but I'm getting it better-<br />
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What the heck? My life isn't THAT bad people- sure it's busy, but isn't every moms?<br />
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And then I caught sight of myself in the mirror at the hairdressers.<br />
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And didn't recognize myself.<br />
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Sure I'd been sick. Everyone looks like crap when they've been sick. But not like this...<br />
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I looked about 15-20 years my senior. As if I'd been through some awful trauma as a 50 year old like- under going chemo or something.<br />
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My skin was sallow, I had bags under my eyes about 2 iches deep and swollen and purple. My hair was clean- but you couldn't really tell because I couldn't tell you the last time it'd been combed at that point- it was also the shade of a not quite ripe tangerine because I attempted to box color it and picked a shade that was simply atrocious for my skin tone, which was a lovely shade of green at that point.<br />
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I looked- pitiful<br />
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Me 5 years ago would have pointed me out to a friend in the mall- laughed and said "That's why the hell you don't have kids- you look like shit constantly." (Yes, I was that shallow at one point in my life. shhhhhhh)<br />
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The hairdresser worked her magic and I must say I loved it. I even went home and put on makeup!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">And Daddy took us to a baseball game! (Stros lost, but the fireworks were awesome)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">But I still haven't quit lost that "haunted " look apparently. I suppose it's because I really do spend most of my days running on an unhealthy amount of caffiene. (Sorry bitty bit- but at least it's not ya know....drugs or whatever.) I have my kiddos to take care of though and whoever made the "rules" for pregnancy clearly didn't already have children and no help. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">My husband is our financial backbone and we'd die without him (duh) but people can't really appreciate my life- and most wouldn't choose to walk a day in my shoes if they could help it. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I find it fulfilling but I have come to the conclusion that if I want the misconceptions about my happiness and ability to stop then perhaps I should somehow (when?!) find 5 minutes in the day to ya know- do my makeup and comb my hair.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">So I've been trying. And I do look a lot more "human" lately. The annoying comments and pitiful looks are getting less frequent...though I have a new favorite annoying comment to share...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"I bet YOU don't need a sleeping pill at night!!!" </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">to which I replied "Nope. I haven't slept in years. It's a vampire thing." (insert a smile that implies I'm about to rip your throat out with my teeth for being an obnoxious hag- watch weird opinionated lady back away slowly...)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I have missed myself. Or should I say, I have missed having the time to "spoil" myself. I do wark hard, and it's deserved I'm told. But I figure in a few years I'll have time to slooooow down a bit and make myself more of a priority. In the meantime, I promise to wear makeup in public and at least throw a ballcap on if Lil Bit has hidden the hair brush again. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-18955392627776764602011-04-03T20:53:00.000-07:002011-04-03T20:53:39.706-07:00The Haves Vs. The Have NotsAnd no, I'm not referring to those with "possessions"...<br />
<br />
I'm referring to those WITH kids and those WITHOUT kids.<br />
<br />
<br />
There are MANY sub-sections to each, but in the interest of brevity I'll leave my musings to the two main categories. <em>(For those interested a sub-section of WITH kids would be "Have seemingly endless babysitting possibilities" and for those WITHOUT kids would be "Have a job that requires EXTREME time dedication, aka lawyer, doctor etc") </em><br />
<br />
The examples were provided for the simple reason that what I'm about to say (obviously) is generalizing. It does not apply to everyone. <em>(Remember- I still have to "explain" things for the ignorant in the world- I'm now no longer concieted enough to believe that my sarcasm is evident or self-explanatory.) </em><br />
<br />
<strong>MOVING ON...</strong><br />
<br />
<br />
A first time mother, particularly a "stay at home," is a very naive little thing. She believes, unknowlingly, that her social life will continue on the way it always did, though with maybe a few exceptions- OBVIOUSLY there will not be nearly as many parties or what have you, but she will still have lunch dates with the girls every week, and CLEARLY her loving husband/partner is going to watch the little darling often so that she can have some "adult" interaction occassionally.<br />
<br />
And then the baby arrives. At first, things seem much the same! Friends drop by to cuddle the wee one and ooh and ahh over every burp and fart with you and sigh over those precious baby shower items you still haven't stored yet...and life is just WONDERFUL. (At this point you are probably still in the "HONEYMOON" phase...)<br />
<br />
<br />
And then a few weeks pass, and one of two things happens (damn subcategories, was really hoping to avoid them...) you either<br />
<br />
a) Return to work <br />
<br />
or <br />
<br />
b) Realize you haven't talked to a grown up that wasn't your husband in 4 weeks...<br />
<br />
<br />
That's just the beginning. Fast forward a few months and you've probably run into your best friend once or twice at Walmart, seen a work associate maybe ONCE for lunch (if you work), and run into that gaggle of girls you used to hang out with in the mall...you were looking at the sale rack at Dillard's in the baby section-wishing you could afford something, while they are perusing the Coach counter and ya know- aren't window shopping like you now do.<br />
<br />
That's life with a kid sweetheart.<br />
<br />
At some point you will be invited to a BBQ...the "whole" family... and your friends will assure you that "bringing the baby is CERTAINLY not a problem....why they haven't seen them since they were just bitty!! Y'all should TOTALLY come!" <strong><em>(newsflash- your kid is damn near walking now, that's how long it's been since you've heard from your "friends.") </em></strong><br />
<br />
You will spend this BBQ alternating trying to enjoy the ONE beer you are going to have time for while you try to keep your kid from destroying your friend's home, and shooting dirty looks at your husband who insisted you go to this thing even though you TOLD him it was a bad idea. Forget eating. You're going to be feeding the kid instead of eating-speaking of the kid? Your normally well behaved child will pick THIS occassion to turn into the screaming brat from hell, thereby solidifying your friend's already made decision to NEVER invite you and your family to anything ever again...and you will find yourself, at some point... tearing up in the bathroom (where you are changing a diaper) going...<br />
<br />
"this used to be so much FUN..."<br />
<br />
<br />
I wish I could say it was different but the truth of the matter is? That's parenthood. I'm sure you have one or two friends who have kids, and your best bet truly? Is to stick with them and get close. And even then don't expect it to be a constant social whirlwind. Think about it, they have kids too. They are busy and just really DON'T have time to hang with you, however much they may genuinely want to. However they are MUCH more likely to return texts, answer the phone, and are a great sounding board for all those mommy- matters you find yourself needing assistance with.<br />
<br />
Your friends without families simply do not, will not, and CANnot fathom it- nor do they want to. <br />
<br />
They don't want to hear about lil Suzie's milestones over mimosas and pedis, and they certainly don't want to have to watch you try and parent while they try to enjoy BOTH of your company. They are, for lack of a better term, FREE- and most likely consider your lifestyle boring and stifling. <br />
<br />
They won't get it until they have kids of their own. (Feel free to point and laugh at them inwardly when they do...it's okay, we all do it. A lil bit of "na na na boo boo" is harmless...They would have done it to you too had they had kids first.) <br />
<br />
<br />
Your friends aren't the ones that have changed though. As much as you would like to be hurt and blame them. (And it's hard not to.) YOU have changed...more importantly, your PRIORITIES have changed and that's not a bad thing at all! <br />
<br />
If you were still out living the kid-free life when you HAVE kids? Well you wouldn't be a very good parent, now would you? And that's a lot more important than being a good friend.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-30799025804275221642011-03-30T20:16:00.000-07:002011-03-30T20:16:14.208-07:00Flashback<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9vbfbp8i1jNkheYiu1hRIT7NQNx9sWaFPYADe_o4DDD1hlNvSb0e_L8fCV_ulhrW6qPNhr90MGTuYwZ17OL2R99kOs3jOg3Yypu5Cw15ViAxyfHJDnYdlr8WMBig_i4bmTSBSMjZ4Ul6/s1600/m_cb31026c6c3276c119a4c5177faf36e1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9vbfbp8i1jNkheYiu1hRIT7NQNx9sWaFPYADe_o4DDD1hlNvSb0e_L8fCV_ulhrW6qPNhr90MGTuYwZ17OL2R99kOs3jOg3Yypu5Cw15ViAxyfHJDnYdlr8WMBig_i4bmTSBSMjZ4Ul6/s1600/m_cb31026c6c3276c119a4c5177faf36e1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
So there is this country song called "Mama, BEFORE she was mama..." Basically- the gist is that the kids are digging through an old box of their Mom's momento's and stumble across a bunch of "back in the day pictures..." most notably her in a string bikini smoking pot in a the Bahamas.<br />
<br />
Now, I did NOT smoke pot in the Bahamas. (Smoking pot is illegal everywhere but Amsterdam people...don't let the movies fool you. The Jamaican and Bahama authorities take that business SERIOUSLY...)<br />
<br />
However, as indicated by the above photo? Mr. AGU and I (then simply future MR. AGU, we were dating) well we had ourselves a TIME. <br />
<br />
We enjoyed that champagne SO much? It's what we ended up serving at our wedding- ironically. Though the resort was "all inclusive," their drinks were watered down to the point of pointlessness- so we stuck with champagne. <br />
<br />
<br />
I don't know why I was thinking of this trip this morning- except that sometimes memories just creep up on you and make ya grin a bit. This was a fun night. <br />
<br />
We got ALL dressed up, went to the "fancy" restaurant on the resort...where the food was simply AWFUL... ended up at the Buffet with the rest of the schmoes right before they closed down for the night (though they were kind enough to let us take our bottle of champagne with us from dinner) and stuffed our faces full of the Bahamas version of "American" cuisine (hamburgers and booze) before scampering off to enjoy the Naussa night life. <br />
<br />
<br />
I think the reason it's sticking with me this morning is that this was the first and LAST trip that my husband and I took together where we got to "party" together. Thanks to that trip we were pretty broke the rest of that summer, got engaged that fall, and I was pregnant and we were married before the anniversary of that trip rolled around the next year! <br />
<br />
<br />
Our honeymoon, I was pregnant. Though I will say we had a FANTASTIC time, and that the room service folks offering that bomb ass icecream sundae at 11 o'clock at night was just the best thing since cheap champagne and hamburgers...<br />
<br />
We've only been away for quick overnight trips other than that. Never away from our kiddos for more than one night- and the only "EPIC" night I could say we've had together was our first anniversary...an unforgettable event consisting of an Astros game, a hella funtrip to Dave and Busters, and a late night trip to Taco Bell... (well- it would have been unforgettable- apparently we both indulged a bit and had some extra beers we may have forgotten about)<br />
<br />
It's just funny. It's Wednesday, my husband is POSSIBLY off this weekend (though I doubt it happens)... and we have no plans really. No desire to make any either. I'd rather curl up on the couch with the fam all weekend and veg away to disney movies or some nonsense...<br />
<br />
But back before Mama was Mama? haha...well that's a different story. I suppose that BOTH of us back then would have had a baby sitter lined up for Heathen Number 1 the PREVIOUS weekend, plans made by Wednesday for Thursday, Friday, and POSSIBLY Saturday night as well, and a fair portion of the check set aside for a good time.<br />
<br />
<br />
Things are a bit different now...and as much fun as those good times are? I'm pretty satisfied that they are rare. I suck at drinking now, (3 years with barely a drop due to pregnant or nursing really drains the tolerance) I hate being hung over- and I hate staying sober to deal with a hungover grumpy bear in the mornings while we take care of the heathens lol<br />
<br />
<br />
In a lot of ways? Getting older is a LOT easier than being young <br />
<span id="goog_651885391"></span><span id="goog_651885392"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-74881894280095091362011-03-01T09:41:00.000-08:002011-03-01T09:41:47.639-08:00Tell All Tuesdays... WHY I hate WalmartI suppose I could say something super political about how big stores like Walmart are ruining small town America, and main street is dying...and go all "South Park" Let's kill the big bad super store thing.<br />
<br />
<br />
But I don't care THAT much about that. Sure- it's important and we should all shop local. But until I can buy a 30 pack of toilet paper for under ten bucks "locally?" I'm forced by budgetary need to visit this mammoth hell hole about once a month.<br />
<br />
<br />
No more. No less.<br />
<br />
I have several reasons for hating this place- and while I normally go with lists I think better in prose. So that's what you're getting today.<br />
<br />
<br />
First- why is it that every single horrible example of humanity is ALWAYS present at Walmart? Seriously? Is it necessary for me to peruse the toothpaste aisle with the most lewd, crude, and rude folks in Christendom? WHYYYYY? It's not like the staff helps that much either- they always seem to have their big baskets of crap they have to put back up blocking the row (now- I know they are doing their jobs, but do they have to block the entire row to do it?) People are so ugly and rude in this place that it should come as NO surprise to folks that one of my "greatest" moments was almost getting kicked out of Walmart last Thanksgiving Eve.<br />
<br />
That's right. Ms. Manners. Lil Miss Proper almost got tossed out of the Wally World while buying last minute boxed stuffing. <br />
<br />
Me: (bebopping along crowded aisle, patiently humming to myself and mentally going over my list....OOOooo, a break in the crowd!) Excuse me (bright and cheery as I pass by what appears to be a slovenly teenager and her boyfriend....)<br />
<br />
THEM: (lil bitch proceeds to run over my ankle and slam her basket into my legs...) "YOU COULD HAVE SAID EXCUSE ME!!!!"<br />
<br />
Me: (seriously pissed...remember, I stay pregnant...hormonal rage comes easy to me.) "I did- perhaps you would have heard me if your head wasn't so far up your ass little girl- now why don't you run along..."<br />
<br />
<br />
THEM: (lots of cussing)<br />
<br />
Me: (laughing) wow... you run over ME and YOU'RE pissed?<br />
<br />
Walmart Associate: Can I help you ladies? <br />
<br />
Me: Only one of us is a lady- that one is a potty mouth brat that needs to get some home training...<br />
<br />
Walmart Associate: Miss, can I ask you to move along to another aisle please, you're disturbing the other shoppers. I don't want to have to get a manager...<br />
<br />
<br />
Me: Whatever darlin...Happy Thanksgiving...<br />
<br />
<br />
(bebops out of the aisle- proceeds to speed dial bestie and go OMG YOU AREN'T GONNA BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED TO ME IN THE F-IN WALMART DUDE!)<br />
<br />
<br />
I hate Walmart. I hate that no one knows how to behave, the staff (which there are never enough of) never seem to know where ANYTHING is, the lines are too long- I swear they charge by the pound for everything ( I go in there and spend 200 bucks for a hand full of things...how am I saving money again?) and the parking lots make me homicidal. <br />
<br />
<br />
Once a month I go...to buy toilet paper, and paper towels, dish detergent, etc. Because somethings simply are cheaper there than anywhere else. And once a month I come home grumbling about surrounding myself with idiots for a few hours.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-15296633687509484912011-02-22T19:50:00.000-08:002011-02-22T19:50:51.590-08:00Tell All Tuesdays... The Housecleaning EditionAs a stay at home "mom/wife/superhuman" my day is filled with lots of EXCITING details. Like folding folks underwear and cleaning my 2 year old's latest "uh oh mommy I peed in my PANties" accident off my floor. (Again.) <br />
<br />
<br />
You're excited to read this already aren't you. This weeks tell alls? Ms. Allgrowedup's Favorite and LEAST favorite chores.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
First, (let's get the negative out the way early shall we?) my LEAST favorite chores:<br />
<br />
<br />
3) Sweeping. I frickin HATE sweeping. I do it at least 4 times an hour. I suck at it too. (This according to my husband who despite the fact that I've rarely seen him leave his recliner much less pick up a broom- is actually quite accomplished at most household chores.) My girls seem to leave a trail of crumbs even HOURS after they've finished eating. (Think Hansel and Gretal, and follow the cracker crumbs and you'll find my Mighty Midget...) I'm seriously considering attaching a Dustbuster to both of their butts. Just to see what happens. (sarcasm- in case the "ignorant" missed it. I'm not actually going to attach hand held appliances to my children's asses in an effort to clean my floors.)<br />
<br />
<br />
2) Putting away the laundry. I'll wash it. I'll dry it. I'll fold it. But man do I HATE having to put it away. For some reason there never seems to be enough room in anyone's drawer for ANYTHING. Despite many efforts at organization ( and different folding methods to make room when purging failed...) It just makes me cranky. <br />
<br />
1) Scrubbing the tub. Specifically OUR tub. For some reason it has lost it's glaze (happened years before we lived here apparently) and therefore catches dirt like CRAZY. Though I doubt my scrubbing the heck out of it once a week with comet helps. (Nothing cleans a tub like comet. I don't care WHO ya are.) But it makes me smell like bleach, leaves my knuckles sore, and makes my ole' arthritic knees hurt. Humbug on tub scrubbing!<br />
<br />
<br />
Now, on to the FAVES....keep in mind? These aren't necessarily things I LIKE doing, they just don't suck as bad as the others, and in some cases are therapeutic!<br />
<br />
<br />
3) Dusting. Despite a raging dust allergy (it's bad) I don't mind dusting. I like being able to see the physical results of my work, and Murphey's Oil Soap and Pledge make the house smell nice. I just have to remember to wear a mask.<br />
<br />
2) Mopping and Vacuuming. Again, I like to see the fruits of my labors. It is somewhat therapeutic to be able to see a spot disappear off the floor. And again? Makes the house smell nice. I like things that make my house smell nice. Hehe.<br />
<br />
1) Folding towels. I think it's the repetitive motion maybe? Each item the same- and it smells good. (Come on, fresh towels, right out of the dryer, smelling of dryer sheet yumminess...ya seeing the theme here?)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Misc. Chores that I HAVE to do are as follows: <br />
<br />
Dish washing (ugh. at least 3 times a day. Thanks to the transference of paternal OCD it literally pains me to know there are dishes in my sink. If I get sleepy and leave them overnight I toss and turn all night...which would explain the REAL reason I don't sleep much when I bring a new baby home...I'm tossing and turning thinking about those dishes piling up.)<br />
<br />
Laundry in general. Ugh. I do it. It gets done. It's cool. Time consuming. But I'm on a schedule and it keeps me from getting overwhelmed.<br />
<br />
<br />
Things that I NEVER do that honestly NEED to be done but I'm just like "eh, I'll add it to the spring cleaning list)<br />
<br />
<br />
Cleaning my oven. To HELL with that shit. I'm just sayin. I did it once. Two years ago. FOUR HOURS and having to evacuate my family from the damn smell and the thing STILL wasn't clean? Screw it. It's inspired me to get a self cleaning oven. I'm planning on hiring someone to do it before we throw the house on the market. I will NEVER do it again.<br />
<br />
Cleaning my microwave. This gets done as needed but still not as often as it should. I just resent being the only one to bother when I'm not the one that blows burritos and such up in the microwave. <br />
<br />
Filing. Oh good lord the paper mess. I know I KNOW I keep saying I'll get to it but man... that's an undertaking that is gonna require a kid free, man free weekend and some booze. It's gonna have to wait until new baby is here. That is FOR SURE.<br />
<br />
And that's all for this weeks Tell Alls. <br />
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Aren't you proud of me? TWO WEEKS IN A ROW...WOOHOO!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-65318176462347331962011-02-14T06:14:00.000-08:002011-02-14T06:14:23.089-08:00Do You Know How Much He Loves Me?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyASUWxkjqkfDgSHVTb_Pt_JS-NK8rofDeJIX9cBRgGPVaTM7-4ML7XM-1mt3Fm-twuyxxoJpCJ2YFCY00h0TWDnfgFuxpfvchOxOPTw7i6zM2dt8jSh4rWED3acyhs05kt6sVoBkG932/s1600/hearts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyASUWxkjqkfDgSHVTb_Pt_JS-NK8rofDeJIX9cBRgGPVaTM7-4ML7XM-1mt3Fm-twuyxxoJpCJ2YFCY00h0TWDnfgFuxpfvchOxOPTw7i6zM2dt8jSh4rWED3acyhs05kt6sVoBkG932/s400/hearts.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's Valentines Day. My husband usually gets me something small, we aren't "real big" into the holiday. I almost always get a card that makes me cry- he's good at cards. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This year he outdid himself. I laughed, I cried, I punched him in the arm- and then I planted a big ole' sugar on him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It went a lil something like this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>To the love of my life and the wonderful mother of my children,</em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>I love you more than Deer Hunting. </em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>You are sexier to me than a brand new F-250. </em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>I</em><em> enjoy holding you more than *Lucille. </em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>I need you more than Overtime.</em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>Love,</em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>Your husband</em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(*sidenote- that's his gun :-D) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I adore that man Damnit. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happy Valentine's Day Everyone!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-74803057895479310172011-02-08T08:01:00.000-08:002011-02-08T08:01:53.060-08:00Tell All Tuesdays...Are back. At least this week... until I forget again. Whatever.<br />
<br />
<br />
This week? TOP 5 Kid's ShowsI don't particularly care for. (Enthralling. I know) <br />
<br />
<br />
Part of Being Grown means WITH kids, ironically, watching kid's shows. All.the.TIME. When you're grown without kids you escape this narrowly- though I'm willing to bet you find your television on Cartoon Network for Adult Swim at night. And NO, those don't count as kid shows.<br />
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<br />
I've sat through all of these, everyday, some for the last 4 years. Others for the last 1.5 years since my oldest daughter discovered she likes animated people. Woo.frickin.HOO.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAjy5VY6C6WvW1-qRv4botIloMh948k-4aHYsL3mSpkEIGFs8_qgAohBelICFVSwbcWnFzOq_Xh3Znj664e7sNBX9DpK5BWzUZQRNUS_8N6vvtr0LARvQolZDDDDGteWwj5Mnu2REnLeyL/s1600/kailan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAjy5VY6C6WvW1-qRv4botIloMh948k-4aHYsL3mSpkEIGFs8_qgAohBelICFVSwbcWnFzOq_Xh3Znj664e7sNBX9DpK5BWzUZQRNUS_8N6vvtr0LARvQolZDDDDGteWwj5Mnu2REnLeyL/s1600/kailan.jpg" /></a></div>5) Ni Hoa Kai-lan. AKA - Chinese Dora the Explorer, but not as cute. Not as entertaining, and about as annoying as her Lil pigtailed self can possibly get. She repeats. EVERYTHING she says, at LEAST six times. I'm aware that repetition is a fine teacher...but when your 2 year old is asking you "mommy, why Kailan keep saying that?" Maaaaaaaaaaay be a bit much. That child drives me nuts. Luckily for me, my kids don't care for her show either, and it's been relegated to THERE IS NOTHING ELSE ON status.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJzukjeQ7GxtoLOKz7HJPlnNTE81zOo1PdiLt3StbA54sQvGVcNavj_vgbbKVLUd5sH_vmt8VS1n-35kIDwDUeihCpUtXq9Yo1NBHZcJHI661qmTEqMw5Wcvnot8ZXwmDxztCyOZml501/s1600/sponge+bob.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJzukjeQ7GxtoLOKz7HJPlnNTE81zOo1PdiLt3StbA54sQvGVcNavj_vgbbKVLUd5sH_vmt8VS1n-35kIDwDUeihCpUtXq9Yo1NBHZcJHI661qmTEqMw5Wcvnot8ZXwmDxztCyOZml501/s1600/sponge+bob.jpg" /></a></div><br />
4) Sponge Bob Square Pants. Ew. Need I say more? He's gross. Patrick is gross. Squidward is a whiner and Mr. Crabs is weirdly obsessed with his whale daughter. None of them are funny and they all gross me out a good bit. The only part I really enjoy at all is the theme song. It's catchy. (Admit it....you're humming about pineapples under the sea...right...NOW)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiO8ddmzYQDOC7UP_Z-F2uGwFBDuc6qvT6k0K2o7BAQkzR69VDdOIr6wuRqvPzgOYkKTBLIADL7FAEWWIeeoO9F4mzU7LUJp-LrsE-NDrp3WT3z2qeWWWlICCZ6hKGhJ2T6qcIP8Fc7uPI/s1600/diego.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiO8ddmzYQDOC7UP_Z-F2uGwFBDuc6qvT6k0K2o7BAQkzR69VDdOIr6wuRqvPzgOYkKTBLIADL7FAEWWIeeoO9F4mzU7LUJp-LrsE-NDrp3WT3z2qeWWWlICCZ6hKGhJ2T6qcIP8Fc7uPI/s1600/diego.jpg" /></a></div><br />
3) Go! Diego GO!- I actually really don't have that much of an issue with Diego except that he irritates Lil Bit because he isn't Dora. And let's face it...not many folks are as cool as Dora to a 2 year old girl. She gets all excited when she sees him because she mistakenly thinks it's Dora coming on, then I have to listen to 15 minutes of WHINING about "mommy....WHERE is DORA? And BOOTS? and SWIPER?" waaaaaaaaaaaah. You won't see Dora on my list. Or Elmo/Sesame Street. As much as those two creepy works of fiction get on my nerves? They've bought a whole lot of quiet in this house. You won't catch me biting the hand that feeds me. ;-) Literally. Sometimes it's the only time I get to have a warm meal. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ1DHtqaRNYagY7hVsRNRGWpnM0bOT1NmVHX6-Vue0MvznGRu7xVoypB7HOdEserdicjkZDXE9wg5m2nOAT6gFKoU_NnzqzrMQRGYixqqkrb76jCXZNh4FaWaGmrZs1UB47CPn-0HfM9iV/s1600/freshbeats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ1DHtqaRNYagY7hVsRNRGWpnM0bOT1NmVHX6-Vue0MvznGRu7xVoypB7HOdEserdicjkZDXE9wg5m2nOAT6gFKoU_NnzqzrMQRGYixqqkrb76jCXZNh4FaWaGmrZs1UB47CPn-0HfM9iV/s1600/freshbeats.jpg" /></a></div><br />
2) The Fresh Beat Band. Shoot. Me. NOW. They play the same 5 episodes over and over again, my kid is OBSESSED with their songs (which incidentally, all suck and hardly qualify as music) and they are peppy. I sincerely hope none of those "kids" (they all appear to be close to my age- playing high school kids) wants an acting career outside of children's television one day...they show a reel from this show and they are likely to get laughed out of the room.<br />
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And the one that takes the CAKE?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPnkoDlGsLQHdT0-rzlLCOE3McwVbbC_Fa-jL2qK8f7iuhn8zEpSMK0ZJyB71k0SfnZf4kbC8em7-_zIlOF9F6LNK40PDtdPISWhIvGvYPlbfDD1S7hVPQIWKwqrQSbUnRIGEGQlNVfw9/s1600/max+and+ruby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPnkoDlGsLQHdT0-rzlLCOE3McwVbbC_Fa-jL2qK8f7iuhn8zEpSMK0ZJyB71k0SfnZf4kbC8em7-_zIlOF9F6LNK40PDtdPISWhIvGvYPlbfDD1S7hVPQIWKwqrQSbUnRIGEGQlNVfw9/s1600/max+and+ruby.jpg" /></a></div>1) Max & Ruby. <br />
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Thank GOD my Lil Bit isn't a huge fan. It's also "There is nothing else ON" status... That bossy little bitchy bunny seriously pisses me off. If I were Max I'd have to throw something hard at her...often. And where the HELL are the parent bunnies? Are these kids raising themselves? Gramma lives down the street for the love of Pete?! I see NO educational value in this show, it's NOT entertaining, and the absolute only likable character is Max- and that's because he rarely if ever speaks. <br />
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Here are some shows I will watch with my kids because they are quality entertainment, have a variety of episodes available (so you don't get stuck watching the same five) and my kids actually LEARN things from them.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOa9CGWvVODnAMBexwMFmHnnck2BW1ZoUK-lIkLgiB87UT-eCU2c_7nScAodg0nJmMYPnEOx6o42F9CTAEsvknYlCi48jmhn9h2ceWOw0Dy-QR2ONOACRH9A4_05zBZ_XHxwsR_Ci4pUz/s1600/phineas+and+ferb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOa9CGWvVODnAMBexwMFmHnnck2BW1ZoUK-lIkLgiB87UT-eCU2c_7nScAodg0nJmMYPnEOx6o42F9CTAEsvknYlCi48jmhn9h2ceWOw0Dy-QR2ONOACRH9A4_05zBZ_XHxwsR_Ci4pUz/s1600/phineas+and+ferb.jpg" /></a></div>Phineas & Ferb- loveloveLOVE Phineas & Ferb. My whole family does. Daddy down to Mighty Midget we actually watch this one TOGETHER. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX2TBq2ASmNtwsEC3zeoTp3wnz73O6Rb8nD03V2bgXPOYKfqqwlwt517WMpbJZjEMfXW1vRbfl1YaKdRikoAjBDd5HBGYPIlqvSLdnFFh1klMM5fzlwhN1iC6vTKFdLjZUqosyIHebhJ9w/s1600/mickeymouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX2TBq2ASmNtwsEC3zeoTp3wnz73O6Rb8nD03V2bgXPOYKfqqwlwt517WMpbJZjEMfXW1vRbfl1YaKdRikoAjBDd5HBGYPIlqvSLdnFFh1klMM5fzlwhN1iC6vTKFdLjZUqosyIHebhJ9w/s1600/mickeymouse.jpg" /></a></div>Mickey Mouse Clubhouse- come ON....it's Mickey. Can't go wrong with Mickey.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikM5WZuufN74Cgwl1Gwcq8IHewVxupu6s5q0lLD8uQEFovy5T82deZk5ooC7vdGY2mR-uvSljkPuqxr2AkADkZveO89apY6ioidfKy04ZQ3bkjSA4Thq53hPrxapw2htXrjzoXou80yzrd/s1600/gabba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikM5WZuufN74Cgwl1Gwcq8IHewVxupu6s5q0lLD8uQEFovy5T82deZk5ooC7vdGY2mR-uvSljkPuqxr2AkADkZveO89apY6ioidfKy04ZQ3bkjSA4Thq53hPrxapw2htXrjzoXou80yzrd/s1600/gabba.jpg" /></a></div>YoGabbaGabba- Lil bit likes the music, enjoys and LEARNS from the lessons, and I get a kick out of seeing Biz Markie on TV again. What's not to like? It's like a really funky acid trip without the illicit drugs!<br />
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That's all for tell all Tuesdays! Ciao'!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-45829788773222905712011-02-07T09:24:00.000-08:002011-02-07T09:27:17.597-08:00Grown Women have Grown Ass MannersMy husband jokes that I'm old fashioned. It may very well be true. I'm hardly a prude (by any stretch of the imagination- once you get to know me well enough I have a fairly well versed set of dirty jokes, most of which I probably stole from my big sister ;-) but I have some standards for what I consider "grown" behavior... Keeping up to my OWN standards keeps me pretty busy- but I fully believe it makes me a better person and is helping me set a good example for my kids. <br />
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Grown Womanism Number ONE:<br />
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I put my cart away at the store. Nothing irritates the SHIZ out of me more than lazy people leaving their carts in the parking lot. And NO "I have my kids with me!" Is NOT a justifiable excuse. Cars are an expensive investment. I RESPECT that investment- so I unload my groceries, push my cart to the cart corral, and field trip the heathens back to the car. WHY? Because it's the right thing to do. It's good manners. Nothing sucks worse than running to the store for some basics and coming out to whiskey dings in your car courtesy of the carts people are too lazy to put up. I've lectured on this AT LENGTH to people. Do it. See if it doesn't put a smile on your face. Because the folks like ME that no matter how nice we are always end up with the carts in our doors? We deserve better. <br />
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Grown Womanism Number TWO: <br />
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Offer to help people in small ways. Open the door for the old lady coming up the walk behind you, Offer to help your neighbor get their trash to and from the curb if they are struggling. Pay it forward. It's nice, and nearly always results in good Karma.<br />
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Grown Womanism Number THREE: (BY FAR THE MOST IMPORTANT) <br />
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Please. Thank you. You're Welcome...and for Pete's SAKE, say "Bless you"...when someone sneezes. It drives me bat crap crazy that because some people don't believe in putting "GOD" in anything anymore they refuse to say "Bless you..." You don't have to put the "God" in it if that isn't your thing- but at least acknowledge the person is feeling poorly and hope for them to feel better. My two year old may not know much but she has PRETTY manners. She says "PLEASE mommy get out of my way..." and "THANK YOU mommy for doing that...." and "You're WELCOME mommy-" when I sarcastically thank her for coloring on the living room floor- again. Manners are important. Teach them to your kids too.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-6986194146528151102011-02-02T07:12:00.000-08:002011-02-02T07:48:46.719-08:00COMING SOON!!YES! I know I'm lame- but * busy life aside I've also had a bit of writer's block!<br />
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(*sidenote* I do have a life outside my computer- strange as that may seem to those who swear I spend it on FB- my computer came equipped with this really cool feature called a "MINIMIZE" button...I log in and then "MINIMIZE" the screen when I'm away from the computer, which is quite often. I'm just lazy and don't like to log in when I get five minutes- so NO, I'm not sitting in front of the screen all day waiting on your every update and commentary about the snow, I'm probably playing with my kids and just didn't log out... Look at the top right hand part of YOUR screen- I bet you have one of these handy buttons too- you know which one it is, you hit it everytime your boss bebops in the office so he doesn't know your playing Zynga's latest fad game on FB *end sidenote*) <br />
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Wow- what a digression THAT was. Where was I? Oh yes, writer's block.<br />
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I consulted several friends and I'm still trying to find my blog's "direction" if you will. I have lots of different theories I'm kicking around, all centered around what it REALLY takes to be a grown woman in today's society- however I have a few parameters that I'm trying to stick to that are making this a WEE bit tricky.<br />
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Parameter A) Thanks to those lovely busy bodies who seemed to want to take my wit out of context and be all "dramatic" about things? My kids are for the MOST part, completely off limits. So that leaves whining about their every cute screw up out. That sucks- because they are THE biggest part of my life and I find some of their goings-on absolutely hysterical, however I don't feel like having CPS called on me for admitting that my 2 year old got into my mascara again and gave herself a black eye- and that hubster and I both pointed and laughed after determining no damage done because, WELL hell, maybe she'll learn to leave mommy's stuff alone finally.... (whoops- maybe shouldn't have told you that?) <br />
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Parameter B) Politics and religion are OUT. This is a FUN blog dangit. And I consider it friendly turf. I don't discuss these topics with friends. Most people don't like my opinions on ANYTHING because I'm pretty set in my ways and won't be swayed. I'm nearing 30. You aren't going to change my mind and I wouldn't DREAM of changing yours. Educational debates and discussions ARE indeed impossible when people's passions get brought up, so I choose to be Switzerland when it comes to sharing my political and religious views. <br />
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Parameter C) Don't really care to talk about things that are "trashy"...for instance- I'm not really big on discussing the latest trends in porn- or whatever. Not my bag baby. This IS the internet and for reasons of watching my TONE and the fact that one of my kids can read already? Nah...not so much.<br />
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So I'm going to ask YA'LL, what would YOU, my loyal followers (all 6 of you- heart you bitches) want to read about from me? Like I said I've got a few ideas kicking around and a few drafts ready to go but I'm debating on WHICH direction I want to take the blog in before I post anything. <br />
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Hit me up. Lemme know.<br />
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MWAH.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-65302267052045031682011-01-23T10:51:00.000-08:002011-01-23T10:51:33.877-08:00Forgiveness is Good...But it's that whole "forgetting" part I have always had a problem with. <br />
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I have the WIERDEST temper. I'm over things THATFAST. Even big stuff. I get ticked- have my flash in the pan moment of petulance, and then POOF...I'm done. I'm spent. I just don't like being ANGRY. It makes me sad eventually, and who wants to be sad all the time?<br />
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That said- I tend to have a memory like an elephant. I don't "forget" as easily as I suppose I forgive. ("Fool me once...shame on you...etc") <br />
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That can make complete forgiveness very hard for me. I will forgive folks- then sit around waiting for them to screw up again.<br />
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I'm working on that. It's not a very pleasant way to live- going around second guessing folks all the time- waiting for freshly given trust and respect to be breached. It's made me a cautious person, which isn't necessarily a bad thing- but it's turned me into an overly skeptical person.<br />
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I try REALLY hard to believe there is good in everyone. Some people just consistently show their bad side so often it makes it IMPOSSIBLE for me to overlook their bad qualities and give them my trust and respect again. Ironically I consider this MY problem, not really "theirs"...it's my falling short as a person (in my mind) that makes it hard for me to forget- (though they really should quit being jerks, let's face it, I can't take all the blame when people consistently screw up, refuse to acknowledge their own shortcomings, and then move forward...) <br />
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I know that in order to truly lead a HAPPY and fulfilled life we have to let go of when people do us wrong (or pray for them- which I find myself doing for people who have wronged me quite often lately. Just so you don't think I'm uppity I also pray a lot for myself, in the hopes that I'm granted the ability to "get over it...") <br />
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BUT my question to you (and I think this is something everyone should ask themselves) how do you handle your anger towards others, no matter how justified? How do you forgive AND forget? Do you force the issue, pray through it? Or like me do you find yourself "forgiving," but not really because you simply can't find it in yourself to move past the PAST and try and rebuild relationships?<br />
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What works for you?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-60882028810618144042011-01-16T21:24:00.000-08:002011-01-16T21:24:34.832-08:00Tone<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>TONE:</strong></div><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>–noun </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>1. any sound considered with reference to its quality, pitch, strength, source, etc.: shrill tones. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>2. quality or character of sound. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>3. vocal sound; the sound made by vibrating muscular bands in the larynx. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>4. a particular quality, way of sounding, modulation, or intonation of the voice as expressive of some meaning, feeling, spirit, etc.: a tone of command. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>5. an accent peculiar to a person, people, locality, etc., or a characteristic mode of sounding words in speech. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>6. stress of voice on a syllable of a word. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>7. Linguistics . a musical pitch or movement in pitch serving to distinguish two words otherwise composed of the same sounds, as in Chinese. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>8. Music . </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>a. a musical sound of definite pitch, consisting of several relatively simple constituents called partial tones, the lowest of which is called the fundamental tone and the others harmonics or overtones. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>b. an interval equivalent to two semitones; a whole tone; a whole step. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>c. any of the nine melodies or tunes to which Gregorian plainsong psalms are sung. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>9. a quality of color with reference to the degree of absorption or reflection of light; a tint or shade; value. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>10. that distinctive quality by which colors differ from one another in addition to their differences indicated by chroma, tint, shade; a slight modification of a given color; hue: green with a yellowish tone. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>11. Art . the prevailing effect of harmony of color and values. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>12. Physiology . </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>a. the normal state of tension or responsiveness of the organs or tissues of the body. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>b. that state of the body or of an organ in which all its functions are performed with healthy vigor. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>c. normal sensitivity to stimulation. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>13. a normal healthy mental condition. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>14. a particular mental state or disposition; spirit, character, or tenor. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>15. a particular style or manner, as of writing or speech; mood: the macabre tone of Poe's stories. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>16. prevailing character or style, as of manners, morals, or philosophical outlook: the liberal tone of the 1960's. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>17. style, distinction, or elegance. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>–verb (used with object) </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>18. to sound with a particular tone. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>19. to give the proper tone to (a musical instrument). </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>20. to modify the tone or general coloring of. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>21. to give the desired tone to (a painting, drawing, etc.). </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>22. Photography . to change the color of (a print), esp. by chemical means. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>23. to render as specified in tone or coloring. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>24. to modify the tone or character of. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>25. to give or restore physical or mental tone to. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>–verb (used without object) </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>26. to take on a particular tone; assume color or tint. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>Origin: </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
<em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>1275–1325; ME (n.) < L tonus < Gk tónos strain, tone, mode, lit., a stretching, akin to teínein to stretch </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
<em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>—Synonyms </em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>1. See sound1 . 15. spirit, quality, temper. </em></span><br />
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(The above was provided courtesy of <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/tone">http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/tone</a>)<br />
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I'm amazed that a mono-syllabic, four letter word can have such a lengthy definition.<br />
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I've been doing a lot of thinking about "tone" lately. The tone of my voice. The tone of my life...the tone of certain conversations- the tone of this blog...etc.<br />
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Once again I'm learning that no matter how old you get- you have to "watch your tone..."<br />
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In music- you have to watch your tone otherwise Randy on American Idol tells you you're "pitchy," Paula tells you that you "just aren't right for THIS show..." and Simon tells you that you are the worst thing he's ever heard. (I'm referring to when AI was worth watching- I refuse to watch anything with Stephen Tyler on it.) Tone is important in music.<br />
<br />
In conversations- particularly unpleasant ones- you have to watch your tone because if you don't you run the chance of people not at all hearing what you are SAYING- but only hearing the tenure of what you are saying- and that can lead to misinterpretations. For instance you could be simply expressing that you'd like a raise, or more vacation time- and all your boss is hearing is "waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah--- bitch bitch moan moan..." or even "is this guy gonna go postal on me?!?" Tone is important in verbal conversation. <br />
<br />
Tone is particularly important when speaking to your kids. I- as I assume most mothers are- am very guilty of losing my temper and while I may be SAYING "PLEASE"...my tone implies "do this or die..." and all the child hears is "wow mama is mad..." (insert water works and complete and total lack of cooperation HERE...)<br />
<br />
I've also learned that in THIS day and age- the most important place where tone is important is the place where it's near completely impossible to monitor. <br />
<br />
The Internet.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now- I've been TOLD by many that I write well. (I will thank those who think so for the compliment- though I'm sure I'm a grammatical nightmare now that I don't have a professor or my mother standing over me with the RED PEN OF DOOOOOOOOOOOM!) <br />
<br />
That said, I apparently don't write nearly well enough to display the appropriate tone of certain things. <br />
<br />
A truly GIFTED writer can get a certain aura going in a body of work that captivates readers and has them going "AH HA! I get IT!" <br />
<br />
Given that- everyone can read the same book or piece of work- and still come away with a different opinion of the author's TONE.<br />
<br />
Where some people find my posts here, on Facebook, and even on the parenting forums I have been known to frequent amusing and entertaining (the spirit in which they are intended) others take away other thoughts. <br />
<br />
<br />
Some people have even implied that I clearly hate being a mother and don't deserve my children.<br />
<br />
<br />
When these things were first brought to my attention I was a bit hurt- a lot appalled- and felt an unreasonable sense of GUILT at that assumption. I went back through every blog post- every Facebook status, everything I have put on for "public" display in the last YEAR...searching for these offenses against my babies...<br />
<br />
<br />
And came back empty handed. BUT, that is because I KNOW my implied tone. I know what I was feeling and thinking and, yes in some cases VENTING when I wrote everything. <br />
<br />
My father and mother are both of the opinion that I should delete this blog and my Facebook entirely. I've politely declined. My husband would PREFER I did- but understands and respects my reasons for keeping it. <br />
<br />
Perception IS everything, I will agree with my father on that. It doesn't matter how many ways I say and SHOW my love for my kids- All it takes is ONE person reading ONE thing in a manner other than it was intended, and damage can be done. <br />
<br />
However I did a poll- and for every one person that got it wrong? There were at least 10-15 people that not only got it RIGHT, but loved it.<br />
<br />
Perception is indeed everything. I now clearly perceive who my true friends and family are that can be counted on. Who know me. Who can SEE what I mean in just a few words and HEAR my voice through the written word on a screen. <br />
<br />
Will I watch my tone a bit more carefully? To be sure...but I will not cater to the perceptions of the stupid. I might offer an explanation to the ignorant occasionally. <br />
<br />
But stupid folks? Well...as the old saying goes? <br />
<br />
Ya' can't fix stupid...<br />
<br />
<br />
(for the ignorant? That's called SARCASM.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-3426584054484126062011-01-08T10:03:00.000-08:002011-01-08T10:03:43.698-08:00Parenting Gadgets are just OODLES of fun...AND. They take up OODLES of space. I'm going through the girls things over the course of this weekend. We are preparing for a *possible* move at the end of this school year (assuming someone buys our house) and I'm decluttering everything from clothes to kitchen gadgets over the course of the next few months.<br />
<br />
<br />
As I'm going through this amazing amount of CRAP that my girls seem to have accumulated (clothes, toys, useless contraptions I'm not sure why we OWN...) I have mentally made a list of things I wish I'd known were useless before my first daughters birth. (and things I wished I'd had the common sense to purchase myself)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>(note: not listed in any particular order- just the order I found them in today) </strong></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>NUMBER THREE</strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_jkGXQfzPxycnZsFUaXdwxmNW3Um7ssJI6Fe5BdVrZQW8GJT23m4ceaO7MNTuwPDdQhtfdLodTGmACaV_kRVgIoEzMH9xK8kHGfqXyAp8jeeNPMIYX2ve27Xu4bMkTdoN79fAJeDISUq/s1600/2008-03-22-BabyWipesWarmer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_jkGXQfzPxycnZsFUaXdwxmNW3Um7ssJI6Fe5BdVrZQW8GJT23m4ceaO7MNTuwPDdQhtfdLodTGmACaV_kRVgIoEzMH9xK8kHGfqXyAp8jeeNPMIYX2ve27Xu4bMkTdoN79fAJeDISUq/s320/2008-03-22-BabyWipesWarmer.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>THE WIPE WARMER...</strong></div><div style="text-align: left;">For the record, I registered for this because it came highly recommended from several moms, my sister included. (I couldn't find a pic of the EXACT model, but ya get the idea) I used it for all of three weeks- until I kept wondering why it was draining water faster than I could pour it in and turning my baby wipes brown while drying them out. It's a fire hazard, a pain in the butt- and your kid does not in the LEAST care that the baby wipes are warm. (At least Lil Bit didn't, and so far Tid Bit hasn't complained so I doubt that Bitty Bit is going to give a crap either.) </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's currently collecting dust in the closet. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>NUMBER TWO</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcq7DbYT7hmulbSi6-Pfkr4oMdTLCr7lCHlKuY5kkjB7m8eO_cxNW0phkvOTk1fqpq8L7eGo_OdqJ7BJx1Z8bcoQ6hRAmPCS-DI3l3dFeuTAgNigFA1cGLOrNu5FPsfHXVqGmz8jbHjg4a/s1600/DIAPERCHAMP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcq7DbYT7hmulbSi6-Pfkr4oMdTLCr7lCHlKuY5kkjB7m8eO_cxNW0phkvOTk1fqpq8L7eGo_OdqJ7BJx1Z8bcoQ6hRAmPCS-DI3l3dFeuTAgNigFA1cGLOrNu5FPsfHXVqGmz8jbHjg4a/s1600/DIAPERCHAMP.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>THE DIAPER CHAMP</strong></div><div style="text-align: left;">Again, used for roughly 3 weeks with my first born and currently collecting dust (though in the corner of the room.) If the smell doesn't kill you (because lets face it...throwing all your shitty and pee diapers in ONE PLACE and leaving them there for a day or so is a GOOD way to offend your olfactory senses) the effort of dragging a heavy nasty bag out of what is essentially a very skinny trash can will. I HATE this thing. I thought it was "soooo cool" when I first got it...but after almost vomitting in my mouth on more than one occassion entering my daughters room? No more. I was having to empty that bag every few hours, and lets face it, my trash can in the kitchen goes out once a day so what was the point? I HEAR the Diaper GENIE is much cooler and blocks the smell. I can't attest to that one way or the other but I just as soon not bother wasting the money to be honest with ya.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>NUMBER ONE</strong></div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8a6YX_Rznz7i0t_6vzBPE6y8qJ5-iTWKN88AyAQmBtIhMr6JQ4z-sHwiH7OS63Jb0MOyiCk5ndmjhkuBZe1l1jtBFjg6BoOuaw6NF87QAEjaqyOVvunKIgabC18_VDLqpXXy3OJt9R4B/s1600/baby-einstein-musical.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8a6YX_Rznz7i0t_6vzBPE6y8qJ5-iTWKN88AyAQmBtIhMr6JQ4z-sHwiH7OS63Jb0MOyiCk5ndmjhkuBZe1l1jtBFjg6BoOuaw6NF87QAEjaqyOVvunKIgabC18_VDLqpXXy3OJt9R4B/s1600/baby-einstein-musical.jpg" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>THE EXERSAUCER</strong></div><div style="text-align: left;">I have a love/hate relationship with this one. Yes the kids use it and YES, they absolutely love it- but it's HUGE, it doesn't fold up nearly as easy as the directions indicate it should, and even when you DO fold it up, it's STILL HUGE. They start using it anywhere between 5 and 6 months of age and if they are anything like my girls are bored with it mentally by 8-9 months because it coops them up...It's just...BIG.<br />
<br />
<br />
Then there are the things I wished I'd had the common sense or knowledge to purchase before the girls came along...(and no, I don't currently own any of them...just wish I did)<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><strong>NUMBER THREE</strong><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuchICuXXhbTSIscRWS4hrasGj0-Jrekbqln0uemfoSyg91THKDAw2QRwGkn_sefDZNppzNugYj1VFv4lToRb8Vw8fCwS2eYi9PLhS159Pf4cossCNphASbcxHbxX7-vi3KwU1FAVCgWFB/s1600/magiceraser.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuchICuXXhbTSIscRWS4hrasGj0-Jrekbqln0uemfoSyg91THKDAw2QRwGkn_sefDZNppzNugYj1VFv4lToRb8Vw8fCwS2eYi9PLhS159Pf4cossCNphASbcxHbxX7-vi3KwU1FAVCgWFB/s1600/magiceraser.jpg" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>THE MAGIC ERASER</strong></div><strong></strong><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">I have actually owned these in the past and just happen to be out at the moment...but my GOODNESS...what a lovely invention! Crayon on your refrigerator...get out the magic eraser...Permanent Marker on your front door (Thanks Lil Bit) ...get out the magic eraser... Mystery substance on your floor that just won't come off even with goo gone? MAGIC ERASER...Mary Poppins had this shit in her bag. I guarantee you. It's why she was so happy all the time. She had Mr. Clean in a sponge. (Note to self: Add to shopping list...)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>NUMBER TWO</strong><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTse6PKwgYIn5X1LXEpCl7yeuc9ZtcLJKECW6hmX_nFP_ytPFmodGLJOvQmEbxYD2NRX1Y-l0tf-jA74hMAJphr80C_jT3AtMKLQZADsCxwkbTzP1vvtDqJIjZGtId42md81m0FIZKMUHm/s1600/roomba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTse6PKwgYIn5X1LXEpCl7yeuc9ZtcLJKECW6hmX_nFP_ytPFmodGLJOvQmEbxYD2NRX1Y-l0tf-jA74hMAJphr80C_jT3AtMKLQZADsCxwkbTzP1vvtDqJIjZGtId42md81m0FIZKMUHm/s1600/roomba.jpg" /></a></div></div><br />
<div align="center"><strong>THE ROOMBA</strong></div><div style="text-align: left;">I want one of these so badly I could cry. I especially want to know if I could train it to follow the heathens around all day-just in case. (Hey Roomba folks...add a "heathen follow" option-you'll make a bajillion dollars off parents with toddlers.) I sweep at least 5 times a day and the floors are still never quite clean it seems, I can only imagine the stress this would take out of my life. I get kinda happy just thinkin about it actually... (runs off to daydream about a broom free roomba life...)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>NUMBER ONE</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GSGU37TKWc43fWQx2IBAYS867PboaJC59MiYiheKTvbS6PuNMNFhTc__b6muD7B0R0Ea13KtMYLEeJTXnptHeg3Is7T__6dY0N1fCWrqFx5AzSiOL7HNBmXwUKp85FQBsJifqLY8xxfK/s1600/gyro+bowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GSGU37TKWc43fWQx2IBAYS867PboaJC59MiYiheKTvbS6PuNMNFhTc__b6muD7B0R0Ea13KtMYLEeJTXnptHeg3Is7T__6dY0N1fCWrqFx5AzSiOL7HNBmXwUKp85FQBsJifqLY8xxfK/s1600/gyro+bowl.jpg" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>THE GYRO BOWL</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">My son pointed this gem out to me in a commercial this morning and I.want.it. BADLY. A mom invented this one, you can be sure. A bowl a child cannot possibly spill the contents of and tough enough to take a toss across a room during a full blown heathen tantrum? Omigosh...awesomeness personified in a bowl I tell ya. I'm hoping I can find them locally in the "as seen on tv" sections of Walgreens or BB & B, because that has GOT to be the coolest thing I've ever seen in my life, and definately something I would get use of in THIS house.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-32156392344555224072011-01-05T07:16:00.000-08:002011-01-05T07:16:03.713-08:00Facing the TruthAt some point in every married woman's life you get told something by your spouse that- if you're like me? Makes your jaw drop and your internal spiteful bitch go...<br />
<br />
<br />
"wow- you are so never getting laid, in this lifetime...ever again..."<br />
<br />
<br />
And ironically it is in (MOST) couples, the exact same phrase across the board.... (wait for it)<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000; font-size: x-large;"><strong>"You've turned into your mother...."</strong></span><br />
<br />
<br />
(resounding echo for emphasis in that deep booming slow motion Hollywood voice that kinda grabs your attention...)<br />
<br />
<br />
NOW...in some couples...I'm sure that may actually be a compliment. But in MY case I can assure you that while my husband and my mother NOW get along, there was a time when they decidedly did NOT- and it is THAT period of time to which my husband is referring. In short- <br />
<br />
<br />
It ain't a compliment.<br />
<br />
<br />
My mama is a lovely woman. Hard working...INCREDIBLY brilliant (no really- ask anyone- she's like- hella smart.) and dotes on her grandchildren. She's busted her ass her entire life to make a way for her children and I can't pay her ANY higher compliment than that since I know NOW- what exactly busting your ass for your family entails. She's tenacious, and she's tough.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
THAT said. <br />
<br />
<br />
She's a worry wart. Kinda to the point where it's beyond all sense and she worries about the most ridiculous things in the world that NO ONE else worries about. <br />
<br />
(No shit, she would not visit California for years because she was convinced it was going to fall into the ocean. She is that scared of Earthquakes.) <br />
<br />
My kids, my sister's kid...her kids that are in her class...hell...YOUR kids she doesn't even KNOW yet? <br />
<br />
She worries about them. All the time. I assure you- she loses sleep over what YOUR children, who she does not KNOW are doing. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
So the discussion came up the other day with my husband (and for the record- no I'm still not convinced he is going to get laid in 2011 since he decided to start the New Year this way.) <br />
<br />
Freedom for the 9 year old on his bike... in our neighborhood.<br />
<br />
<br />
I had worked up what I thought was a fair AND freedom giving check in schedule... I wanted to PHYSICALLY see him at least twice a day (say a Saturday) and he was to check in once an hour by telephone from whatever buddies house he was at.<br />
<br />
My theory was this. I don't know all of his buddies parents yet, I only have a VAGUE idea of where some of them live. I couldn't even tell you what TWO of them look like, and I know for a fact ONE of them is a KNOWN trouble maker. <br />
<br />
<br />
I wanna know where my kid is, who he is with, and what the heck they are up to.<br />
<br />
But I'm not lame...so I settle for "where are ya, and are their parents home? I wanna see you IN my house at 12:30 on the dot, k?"<br />
<br />
<br />
I didn't and don't consider this overkill. I consider this being a parent. And in all honesty? This is LENIENT by my standards. If it were up to me he wouldn't be going to some of his buddies houses by bike because I consider them too far away. (sheepish grin for sure...I may be a leeeeetle bit like my mama- I just hide it really well) <br />
<br />
(and this next line of thought is what got me told that notorious phrase...)<br />
<br />
These kids parents could be fuckin serial killers or pedophiles for all I know. On TOP of which, he has been having some issues with his bike lately (the chain broke and now he's thrown the bearings) so he's riding an OLD bike of his that isn't in the best shape until I can get him some new bearings. It's not the SAFEST for him. I wanna make sure he gets to his destinations okay.<br />
<br />
And then...I got told that- well...you know... phrase.<br />
<br />
<br />
And told that I'm a worry wart. Just like my mama...because who the hell just "assumes" that people are pedophiles and serial killers...(for the record I didn't say they WERE- I said they COULD be...he was putting words in my mouth dangit...) and that I was "determined to get his ass kicked" by making him look like a "mama's boy" who has to check in every hour like some "sissy baby..."<br />
<br />
<br />
The fight continued from there. <br />
<br />
I conceded that I may be OVER worrying about him. He is a big boy. Capable of handling himself. <br />
<br />
I've ammended my check in policy SLIGHTLY. (He checks in ever two and a half hours in PERSON and calls me if he is changing locations so that I know he's arriving at his friends houses safely.) <br />
<br />
However I still resent the implication that I'm as BIG a worry wart as my mama because unlike my husband I realize this isn't 1986 anymore and you can't just RIDE your bike to park without barely a wave to your mama and stay gone until dinner.<br />
<br />
Kids get nabbed everyday. People run stop signs in our neighborhood EVERYDAY...and y'all know 9 year old little boys aren't the BEST about looking both ways at intersections.<br />
<br />
<br />
I'll own up to worrying a lot, like my mother, because that's what a mama DOES. It's ingrained in our nature to worry. <br />
<br />
(and had he not meant it as the gravest insult he could muster at the time? I MIGHT have even said thank you- but as it stands he is still totally not getting laid in the near future...)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-49194475640260924852011-01-03T09:08:00.000-08:002011-01-03T09:08:48.258-08:00New Year...No Resolutions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheHkigBAzyy49Noq2SlxERf9VFZ6va1D0NgDtl-ymTou0dFpe3KSKxMPK2t-94G8mV0txv4PLyYpZMk6PG5-bSnXh_IvauweLU-jhNxe_yjT6q1uEJf49X7HoKj3ERQ34RYgJWTbIbAMk9/s1600/365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheHkigBAzyy49Noq2SlxERf9VFZ6va1D0NgDtl-ymTou0dFpe3KSKxMPK2t-94G8mV0txv4PLyYpZMk6PG5-bSnXh_IvauweLU-jhNxe_yjT6q1uEJf49X7HoKj3ERQ34RYgJWTbIbAMk9/s320/365.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I've done all the major New Years Resolutions...I WILL lose 20 pounds (after I stuff my face, thighs, and ass with cornbread New Years Day) I WILL quit smoking- after smoking roughly three packs on NYE alone and getting shit tanked... ( I made this resolution about ten years running...until I actually got knocked up with Lil Bit and managed to quit.) I WILL:<br />
<br />
quit swearing (hahahahaha)<br />
go to church more often (still working on this one but making good strides there...)<br />
yell less (if people quit screwing up >:() <br />
drink less coffee (psh- wth was I thinking???)<br />
call my mama once a week (I called her twice this weekend...so there...)<br />
<br />
<br />
I've done it all.<br />
<br />
Resolutions are inevitably pointless. That is making a helluva commitment to yourself and everyone else and using the excuse of a "NEW YEAR, NEW ME" to do it.<br />
<br />
I'm all for fresh starts. I personally LOVE fresh starts and new beginnings. New Years are GREAT...<br />
<br />
Except that let's be REAL- they are usually just like the year before them unless you have a serious "LIFE CHANGING EVENT" that moves your ass into action...a wedding, a birth, a death, and illness...something that challenges your humanity and prompts you to go "Ya know, I'm not gonna do that anymore..." OR "I'm gonna try it this way this time..."<br />
<br />
Humans are notorious for being insane...that is trying the same things over and over again and expecting different results. It's cool. It gives us character and seperates us from the apes after all. <br />
<br />
However- I got tired of Resolutions years ago...though I doggedly still made them in the hopes that I would "learn from my mistakes..." or make an effort to take better care of myself- if not for me? Then for my kids right?<br />
<br />
But this year isn't about ME. We have LOTS of life changing major events coming up in 2011 that we were hoping to hold off on for a few years, but Life happens and there is simply no stopping it.<br />
<br />
Literally, life happens. I'm pregnant again. :-) Roughly 13 weeks along this week- which puts new baby here around July. <br />
<br />
To say this was surprising to me and Mr. AGU is indeed an understatement- but as with everything we have encountered in our four years together? We roll with it. <br />
<br />
We are very good at having major changes land in our lap...assessing the situation- and rolling with it.<br />
<br />
Can we change it? Nope- nor would we if we could.<br />
<br />
Can we cowgirl/cowboy up, and handle it? Absolutely. <br />
<br />
No amount of resolution making, wishful thinking, or sleepless nights are going to make the next year any easier.<br />
<br />
Only thing that can change things is us- with a lot of prayer and even more hard work. <br />
<br />
So I'm not making any resolutions this year...just a few commitments to myself to try and maintain my sanity- and raise healthy kiddos without sending THEM to the loony bin too. <br />
<br />
We are going to wave goodbye to the shit storm that was 2010 and embrace 2011 the same way we do everything else.<br />
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Bring it on.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-29051692248208742792010-12-17T20:34:00.000-08:002010-12-17T20:34:39.242-08:00Christmas makes me all sentimental...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMN_HaoibgxB9sa5S9_0b0ipN2Ok4n2AUd3rUnhPie71nUHck58pmCJr1C-upeh_P_P4fLJC1bJnwqZ-P6fMrDnZBIOc46Jj3oVqaVUzbrCKxOv5qkTpdZ7LZ6kf-MLPtI6Oun7ecHPSRp/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMN_HaoibgxB9sa5S9_0b0ipN2Ok4n2AUd3rUnhPie71nUHck58pmCJr1C-upeh_P_P4fLJC1bJnwqZ-P6fMrDnZBIOc46Jj3oVqaVUzbrCKxOv5qkTpdZ7LZ6kf-MLPtI6Oun7ecHPSRp/s320/009.JPG" width="171" /></a></div><br />
I like to bake around the holidays. Sometimes for no reason other than the smell. When we were growing up it seemed like Mama and Mawmaw had the house smelling like heaven the entire month of December...then later on it was my Daddy with his famous chocolate chip cookies. <br />
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Texas Trash, cookies, pies...you name it. We had one sweet smelling house in those days. I've been baking my butt off for the last 24 hours (and plan on doing more of it) because a dear friend of mine is under the weather (cancer...at 28. Pray hard) and I figured that maybe just maybe some sugar cookies and pie would brighten her Christmas a bit. <br />
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And it gives me an excuse to bake. <br />
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And make Texas Trash- which I don't know why I don't make year round except that it's kinda expensive (Chex is awful proud of their products) and it isn't really PRACTICAL to make homemade spicy chex mix "just because..." <br />
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I just love the SMELL of something nice in the oven... Even though my sugar cookies came out like crap this year. ( I made the mistake of buying a mix instead of making them from scratch as usual, not a mistake I intend to make twice.) <br />
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At least the house smelled really good while doing it. <br />
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It for sure put me in the Christmas spirit, which has been sadly lacking. ( I actually asked Mr. AGU if we could just skip it altogether this year- but then he reminded me we have the Heathens and that isn't really an option...) <br />
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Seriously...if you find yourself a bit lackluster this year when it comes to "the spirit"- put on some OLDIES Christmas Carols (Think Sinatra and Nat King Cole) and role up your sleeves and get elbow deep in some cookie dough with your kids...let them cut the shapes and add the icing and sprinkles...I have a full day of this planned for next week and I'm really REALLY looking forward to it.<br />
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Just see if it doesn't change your tune a bit :-)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-78938858616628030652010-11-26T15:08:00.000-08:002010-11-26T15:08:24.022-08:00Tell All Tuesdays (on a Friday...shaddup...I know)I'm a slacker but in my defense with preparing for the holiday and the millions of midgets rampaging my house it's been a SERIOUSLY busy week. <br />
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Here is the THANKSGIVING Tell All Tuesday I meant to post ...but didn't...<br />
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5) My favorite dish is cornbread dressing. I wish I had my Nanny Pete's recipe because it was the shiznit. But I will eat it, just to try it, in any form because all kinds are worth trying. It is simply not Turkey Day without Cornbread dressing. My sister and I tried to doctor an atrocious bagged version my mother bought into something edible at our family dinner a few weeks back...it was okay- but not great. Home made is infinately better. We gave it a good try though. <br />
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4) My pecan pie is to die for. Literally. I'll toot my own horn about this one. I took my grandmother's recipe (which she never admitted but mom has since confirmed came off the Karo Syrup bottle...) and tweaked it and tortured it into EVEN BETTER pecan pie. That's right. I one-upped the Karo Syrup company, my mawmaw, and my mama. It's good stuff and a holiday favorite here at the AGU house. My mother in law got her feelings hurt my first Thanksgiving with the fam because I had made one and she had made one but hers didn't cook through thoroughly and while I'm sure it would have tasted heavenly if we could have eaten it? My father in law wasn't exactly kind in his survey of it...always felt kinda bad about that. But my pie is pretty damned good, and I'm now in charge of the pecan pie at Thanksgiving.<br />
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3) That said living with a diabetic husband kinda cramps my style on Thanksgiving. If it were up to me the entire meal would consist of various forms of pie. I love to bake. Pie is goooooooooood. And yams. Hell I don't know why we just don't give thanks with a giant dessert table. Save a turkey- EAT A PIE! <br />
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2) Turkey gives me the most horrific gas. I'll honestly be shocked and amazed if Mr. AGU comes home from work tonight after what I put him through yesterday evening. Po po Mr. AGU.<br />
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1) I long for the days I can host Thanksgiving at my own house. I don't ever see this happening but the main thing is I enjoy cooking a lot- as long as I have my plan in place and someone to handle my heathen horde while I cook it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8048343534695963794.post-72811704210100327622010-11-21T19:32:00.000-08:002010-11-21T19:32:10.955-08:00Regarding crappy movies...My husband has made me sit through over the last four years of coupledom...I found the 3 reasons he isn't allowed to pick the movies we watch while moving the DVD racks to make room for the Christmas tree today. (Decorating my house for Christmas takes a small militia...mainly ME, moving the entire living room around JUSTSO to make sure that you can still see the TV and get a nice view of the presents at the same time. It's an art form.)<br />
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Anyway. I'm a freak of nature and alphabetize our movies (OCD much?) and had to stare at these 3 atrocities to film several times while putting them in their appropriate places on the shelves across the room from their normal location. (I should say I had to RE-alphabetize everything, have 3 children running helter skelter through my living room daily means that the majority of them get pulled off the shelves at least a million times a day and shoved back willy nilly- I lose sleep over this. Seriously.)<br />
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Here are the reasons I've revoked Mr. AGU's movie choosing rights, what's sad is #3 and #2 are actually in his top 5 favorite movies of all time list (po po Mr. AGU...)<br />
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3) The Warriors...<br />
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For those of you who haven't been "blessed" enough to see this piece of crap? It's like West Side Story meets The Chronicles of Narnia meets Adventures in Babysitting- but subtract any actual talent, a decent and followable plot, and the music sucks ass. The premise is a big gang war is happening these "Warriors" have been framed for killing some head honcho guy at some big gang meeting and have to fight their way home across the city. It's lame. Beyond lame actually. I compare it Adventures in Babysitting because of the gang fight on the Subway- with the exception that those guys were actually worth watching. I just kept dozing off and hoping some of these losers would die. Apparently it's based on a video game. Which we also own. That should tell you everything you need to know about this piece of crap.<br />
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2) Bloodsport<br />
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Someone told Jean Claude he could act. Oye to tha fricken VEY. I've had to sit through this horrible thing more times than I care to count because I'm a good wife like that but it is seriously bad enough to make ones eyes bleed. I'm all for a good action kung fu movie, as long as it doesn't have crappy acting in it. Unfortunately Jean Claude has never done anything that could be considering GOOD acting so this one was doomed from the start.<br />
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1) Shoot Em Up<br />
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"It looked so cool in the previews..." that was his excuse. Maybe it did. I dunno. All I know is there is a reason it was in the "5 for 5 dollars!" bin at the Blockbuster that day, and that's because it sucks so horribly I can't even explain it to you properly. All I will say is there is a prostitute that gets put in charge of caring for an orphaned infant because she's a fetish hooker and does the whole "mommy thing" and has excess booby milk or something- there are people climaxing during sex while "shooting em up" because ya know, that's practical...and the antagonist (if memory serves, I really try and forget this movie) is some guy who doesn't want to die so he's having a bunch of women have his babies and jacking the kids healthy organs after he impregnates these random women so he can live. It's ludicrous...<br />
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There ya go. The reasons he isn't allowed to so much as go to the Redbox without specific instructions. If you haven't seen any of these- count yourselves among the lucky. Seriously? Go smoke a bowl, you'll lose less braincells than watching "Shoot Em Up"....Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0