Saturday, February 26, 2011

Someone come over here and get my lungs out of my throat.

Alright - holy Jesus, Mary and Joseph.  I am sucktastic x10. 

Remember me?  I'm the girl who spends 2 hours straight on the treadmill and if you asked me if I was fit - I'd say, "Hell yah."  I'm even known to think of myself as an athlete.

Um...until today.

I just got my ass kicked.  Bad.

Here's a little fact.  Just because you can run does not mean you have endurance or muscles or stamina.  You just have leg muscles and lung capacity...and for this girl...that's no longer enough.

I've said recently that after spending so much time on the treadmill - my legs are toning, my pants are looser and literally when I walk I "feel" the time I spent running.

I don't give a crap about my stomach because it's tight from my tummy tuck.  My love handles could stand to lose a few inches but even they don't both me that much.

But?  My upper body is acky.  I have man arms.  They are not sexy.  My collarbones have never stuck out which I think is uber sexy.  Let's face it - on top - I am flabtastic at best.

I've also mentioned I want to start boxing so I can finally work on my upper body.  That and I think it would be fun to pretend the punching bag is Explosive Man so I could literally punch the shit out of him.

I don't have the space for a punching bag so I found I already have a boxing DVD.  It comes with really cute pink weighted boxing gloves.

Miss "I'm an athlete" figured I could kick this DVD's ass no problem.  I wouldn't even break a sweat.  Didn't even bring a water cuz I wouldn't be thirsty.

Yes....I am cuh-razy delusional.  And I ain't no athlete.

So here's my review. 

The video is called - 10 minute solution - Knockout Body!

I love this video first because it is 5 - 10 minute sessions.  You can pick one session - or all five - or mix and match.

I picked 4 of the 5 because one is for abs and I can't work my abs.

No folks, I did not finish all 4.  I finished 3.

I am soaked from head to toe.  I was panting like a dog.  My lung got stuck in my throat.  I needed water like a lost camel in the desert. 

I always sweat on the treadmill but only in certain spots.  I'm not kidding - I am sweating EVERYWHERE in crevices that aren't supposed to sweat.  Even my ears are dripping.  Ok - that's a lie.

I nearly died.

I do love the host who is Jessica Smith.  She has a nice voice, is not over the top like you wanna slap her and she's to the point.

It was indeed a calorie burning workout but it focused on upper body.  Only 1 time did I have to get on the ground and that was for pushups and there are only 8 total. 

So yes, I have been brought down from my athletic pedestal and I will be continuing to do this DVD in the future until I can do all 4 and it feels easy.

I'm a fan of the 10 Minute Solution DVDs.  They have a ton of kinds for all different body parts or for dance styles or aerobic styles or whatever and literally - you can pick and choose which you like and for how long.

I love that each segment is 10 minutes.  Ten minutes felt like forever sometimes but also I thought to myself - if I can't do 10 minutes I might as well give up entirely.

There you review.  Take it for what it is.  A glorified athlete being stripped of her crown.


Friday, February 25, 2011

BYOC Friday!!!!! ♥♪ Bring Your Own Crazy ♥♪

It’s FRIDAY which means in Care Bear Land it’s time for BYOC…Bring Your Own Crazy! 5 little questions you can copy and paste to your blog if you so desire – in an effort to get to know each other better and to give your blog brain a break!


1. Are you a heavy or light sleeper?

• Unfortunately – LIGHT. I rarely sleep through the night and usually am up quite a bit and if I’m not up I’m kinda prone to nightmares. I think it comes from years of being alone at night when Rambo was on third shift or when he was over the road in the semi. I got used to being scared at night…and then I had babies and that didn’t help. Anywhoozle…I should buy stock in Tylenol PM…

2. If you were made into a professor for a day, what topic would you lecture on?

• First of all – this girl wouldn’t be standing in front of anyone doing any lectures….my throat would close, I’d be covered in hives and I’d pee my pants – and then run screaming from the room. But let’s pretend I’m normal for one second for the fun of it….and um….hmmm – this one is tough. Maybe I’d lecture on just that – social anxieties and depression too. Maybe I’d finally stand in front of people in real life and admit my weaknesses…and maybe I’d tell people it’s not a weakness at all. And just maybe I’d tell the story of my 22 year old Uncle who took his own life – because he can’t tell his own story. And maybe, just maybe – I’d help someone with that story.

3. What’s a skill you’ve always wanted that you don’t currently have?

• Forgive me but I want the skill of learning how to sleep with my eyes open…so I can sit at my desk and sleep and no one would know. Oh crap – that’s not what this question was asking was it? Shizzle. Okay um…actually I think I want the skill of question #2. Not being a professor BUT the skill of talking in front of people. When I hear and see someone speak who is amazing at it – I want that. I want the ability to mesmerize a crowd and make a difference and touch everyone in the audience…you know…without throwing up and shaking violently. I truly believe talking in front of people is a huge skill and I respect and admire it.

4. Have you ever been in a real cat fight?

• Ah no – I’m a lover, not a fighter. Remember me? I’m a conflict avoider at all costs. I’ve watched Rambo in enough fist fights to last a lifetime so I’m kinda over having them myself. They really don’t look fun and blood red has never been a good color on me. On the rare occasion that I’m mad or hurt enough to become passionate about it…well I can debate and argue with the best of them. The last real fight I had was with a childhood friend that Jenny and I mutually share.

Our friend was at a vulnerable stage in her life and she met a man on the internet and then lied and went to physically see him without telling a single soul. That might not have been such a huge risk if she didn’t have two young kids at home and two friends waiting on her to start a girl’s weekend…who had no idea what had happened to her. It was irresponsible at best. I was scared for her…and hurt…and mad enough to end a friendship I’d literally had since I started school. Today, I can’t be mad at her for it anymore…that occurrence brought me Jenny as we bonded over our hurt. And today, this girl and I remain friends. It may never be the same but we are still friends.

5. Repeat question: Summarize your week in real life and in blog land.

• Blogland is goooood….the BOOBs excitement is still going strong and my “bully” blogs were difficult to write but had a happy ending. By the way, little update: Watermelon said yesterday that Rose hugged her and said she was sorry. Watermelon in turn said “maybe we could hang out this summer and plan play dates”. Wow huh? It’s just unbelievable to me on so many levels.

• In real life – there is still political unrest which involves Rambo’s job so I feel like we’re in limbo not knowing what will happen. Kitchen remodel will begin soon. The two PT jobs are sucking the life from me – okay not really – but being dramatic is fun. The full time job is good and under control. 

I worked out again last night but only managed 70 minutes. My diet is improving. My siblings and I have almost decided to do the Urban Race together – which is a physical and mental obstacle course/challenge race that takes anywhere from 3 to 5 hours….so I have more motivation to be in shape. And remember – my mother-in-law found my pants – so the world is at peace now.

Love to you all!

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Exhaustion and miracles....

I wasn’t going to blog today. My heart wasn’t in it.


Like fall asleep at my desk. Pee with my pants on. Drive with eyes closed. Kind of exhaustion.

It ain’t pretty.

Miss Banana came into our bedroom as I was getting up today. She was cuddling with Rambo and I said, “Man, I really want to go back to sleep.”

In her way too cute, innocent and soft voice, she simply said, “You can’t. You have to work. You’re old.”

Nice. Simple but true. I’m old – as in “adult”. Adults don’t sleep – they work.

Which means I probably shouldn’t have retorted back with the ever so mature “I can stay home and sleep if I want to so there.” I also probably shouldn’t have stuck my tongue out at her and stomped out.


I’ve been losing my grip on all the tasks I need to accomplish daily. There is work not done for the one PT job. There sits a stack of checks to be entered for PT job #2. I haven’t commented on hardly any blogs though I’ve read them all. I feel guilty. I gave myself a day off of working out and I even feel guilty for that. I didn’t cook supper. Rambo did cuz I was too tired. Board meetings have been attended. Lists updated. Eyes propped open with toothpicks.

Oh and the kitchen remodel starts soon so all week we’ve been picking up supplies. I also lost my favorite necklace and the thought of it makes me want to kick someone. My mother-in-law found the freaking Harley pants she lost months ago so now I have two pairs. So sits the one pair I need to box up and return.

It taunts me.  (Oh, by the way...they were in a bag.  A big bag.  Hanging on a coat hook.  In plain sight.)

I have to pick my kids up at that tattoo shop. Yes – you read that right. Rambo is still having work done on his back so I have to pick them up there. Mother of the year right here. My mom would have a coronary if she knew where her little granddaughters were right now.

Oh and then there’s the free food again. A pasta table with breadsticks and salad and dessert yesterday. No – I didn’t eat the salad. Today is free nachos with salsa and cheese and again with the movie-f*cking-popcorn that is like a butter orgasm in my mouth. When will it end?

I stopped pissing rainbows about 10 hours ago. Apparently I’m Satan’s sister now because the only thing I can fart out are black jelly beans.

And yet?

There is hope.


Cuz….a few minutes ago Jenny called. I saw the number, lit up and answered. Doesn’t matter if it’s a 30 second chat or a 30 minute talk…I feel better. I feel valued and I feel loved. I feel blessed. Life is good.

I need to stop crying in my pasta bowl.

You’re never gonna guess what happened next though. Never in a million years. Not now – not ever. I gotta get back to work now but I promise to write more about it Monday because tomorrow is BYOC….

I’m such a tease huh?

I promise – it’ll be good.

And let’s just say – miracles do happen.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Life Lessons - on a Tuesday....

Yesterday was just a Tuesday in my tiny little life yet it turned out incredible. No lottery winning, no long lost reunions, no long-awaited promotions….nothing earth-stopping like that. Just a few life lessons…that changed who I am.

First of all…I’d like you to go back in time and remember a moment when I said, “Sugar causes my migraines. I should be careful not to overdo it on sugar.” Now slap me. I mean wow. The last two days have been filled with donuts and cake and more donuts and then some more donuts and a Milky Way.

Unbelievably, last night I got a migraine. Holy hell – shocking isn’t it? I got home, put on my comfy clothes, got some blankets and my eye mask and took ½ a pain pill. I told myself I wasn’t moving all night long. I even had the nerve to be pissed the migraine occurred.

Wanna know where I was ½ hour later? On the treadmill – for 2 hours straight. The girls and Rambo were in bed and it was my time to make something out of this day…and I did. I proved to myself that no matter what happens all day – physical or mental – exercise is do-able and worth it. That was life lesson #1.

I was proud of myself and for me – those moments are hard to come by. I’m taking tonight off from working out to give my body a break…it’s a tad worn out.

Before my migraine came slamming into my day, my best friend, Jenny called. I’d first like to say that Jenny calls almost daily and though it’s hard to believe – I actually even call her sometimes. Nearly 2 years into being best friends – it has become normal to me. I see her number and fear doesn’t take over me and I do not hesitate for one second to pick up the phone. In fact, I light up. I reach for the phone by the second ring. I see her number and I am happy. And that folks, is something amazing.

Then we talk – about the day, about life, about blogging, about the world’s problems, about our kids, about our husbands, about our families. We decide that in our families we are the only sane ones and if everyone would just do what we say and do what we do – they’d all be better off. Or maybe we decide we’re the only two crazy ones and they are all sane. Whatever we decide…we hang up and I am refreshed.

So last night I hung up and I sat for a second and I thought – she called to see how I was, to ask about MY day, to hear MY voice, to connect. I’ve never had that in a girlfriend before. It was always one-sided. They needed something from me, never really caring about me in turn. I was always giving and they were always taking. It was exhausting. It wasn’t real friendship.

I guess it’s no wonder that years in - I’m still in awe of who Jenny is to me. It was life lesson #2.

Yesterday was also the first day back to school for Watermelon since the meetings with Rose and the Principal. In my head, I figured it’d be a day of trips to his office again and I wasn’t looking forward to the day’s report when I got home.

I walked in the door and asked Watermelon how her day with Rose was.

She said, “Good. We were nice to each other. We even gave each other compliments.”

I literally high-fived Watermelon and said, “Isn’t that GREAT? Aren’t you happy?”

She said, “Yes.” And then she said, “We even said to each other that we’re not friends yet, but we’re on our way to getting there.”

Instead of doing a freaking cartwheel like I wanted to I said, “You know, that’s great. She lives just up the street and she’s alone a lot. Wouldn’t it be great if you became friends and all summer you had someone to play with and ride bikes with and such?”

Watermelon skipped away after giving me a look like I had two heads BUT I also caught a look on her face that said she was seriously contemplating what it would be like to have a friend all summer to play with.

Yup, this would be life lesson #3.

And life lesson #4 comes from Facebook. There’s no secret that the state I live in is divided. There is major political unrest and tension and debates and protests. Both of my brothers and I and Rambo are on the same side of this debate. I’m in a unique spot being from the private sector and being married to a man in the public sector.

My brother’s Facebook walls are full of debates – good ones. They are very intelligent politically and can quote statutes and use big words I can’t understand. I do my best to comment and back them up on their walls and they do the same for me. For me and my siblings, Facebook defines our a good way.

The bottom line is we are all in a tough spot in this state. The debates are good. It means the people of this state care….but it can get emotional if you let it. I mean this is people’s money and careers and families we’re talking about.

After a night of commenting and wall posting and debating and my two hours on the treadmill I sat down at my computer to cool off and stop sweating. I logged into Facebook. I was reading and saw a post come in on my wall.

It was from my younger brother. This is the brother I am not the closest with. He’s had some difficulties and made some choices I don’t agree with. There have been many months in our lives when we haven’t seen or spoken to each other. There are things that happened during the flood I have trouble forgiving. There have been words said that can’t be taken back. There have been actions taken that I’ll never forget or condone…and yet…..

….last night about 30 seconds before I was going to log off after this incredibly long day….I saw he posted on my wall. I figured it was something political or debateful.

It was not.

He simply wrote….”Love you Draz :) ”. (he used my real name)(for those of you on my FB..the post is there for all to see)

I will tell you I sat and stared at those words for a long time – trying to hold back the tears.

You see - in families where those words are never spoken – that’s something. I take that back – we say those words – when someone dies or a tragedy occurs or something huge affects us and the words are almost expected.

We don’t say those words on a Tuesday – for no reason – other than to say it - because we mean it.

Three words – changed my heart in that moment. I replied I loved him too and I went to bed with a smile on my face. Isn’t it something how a couple words can change a person’s day or life?

Remember that – and take the opportunities to say things that don’t come easy. It is worth it.

At the end of the day – what I ate, how much I worked out, how many hours I put in at work, what kind of car I drive, what kind of purse I carry – means nothing. None of it matters….

What matters are little bitty life lessons – on a Tuesday – if you’re open to seeing them.

So….look around…can you see them?

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Poo-poo-ing Prison Style.

It is clearly no secret that when it comes to dealing with bodily functions – I’d rather shove an elephant in my ear. I never used to have an aversion to all things beginning with a P (mainly puke and poopoo). I could clean up puke and wipe butts with the best of them. Never flinching. Never gagging. I was a warrior I swear.

But now? Um, not so much.

Today, though, in regards to things that start with the letter P - I’d like to just say that I could never be in prison. Yes, there are a million other reasons I would like not to be in prison but there is one in particular that has come to my attention.

This sums it up:

Rambo is evil. He thinks things are funny because of that thing between his legs, but he is evil. Pure and simple with a capital E.

Let me explain.

Rambo used to work in only seg units at the prison. That means he worked with prisoners who are the worst in the state and therefore live in their tiny cells 23 hours a day. There isn’t a lot of communication with those kinds of prisoners – unless you count pouncing on them during a cell entry in full riot gear. The guards are in fact told they are not allowed to form relationships with these prisoners. Some are such impressive con men that some prisoners cannot be spoken to without at least two people present.

There is safety for Rambo in a seg unit for the most part but it’s not his favorite place to be assigned to. Idiot.

Recently, his prison has toyed with and become part general population (GP). Yup, you know what that means. Inmates milling about – out of their cells – all around Rambo. He loves it.

Stupid much? Like danger much? Like dangling your life in front of people with nothing to lose? Jesus frick.

Anywhoozle, I think Rambo likes GP because he can be social. He can talk to the inmates. Hell, he can carry on decent conversations with these people. They talk politics and life and rules and regs and they laugh. He always says to me, “We all have to be there for a certain time every day…we might as well laugh and make the best of it.”

I suppose. Or not.

So yes, there are lots of practical jokes and such…as men are prone to do. One part of me is glad about this. It makes all of their days go faster. It makes it a little less miserable. The rapport actually makes the inmates respect Rambo because he doesn’t treat them like dirt. He treats them like humans with basic rights – regardless of their crimes. (the crimes in GP aren’t as bad as the ones in seg so they are easier to “overlook”)

But I’m rational and I know that whatever respect they feel for Rambo would be gone in one second if a fight broke out or a shank was pulled or a riot started. I’m not stupid. I don’t host a penis in my pants.

Okay – back to the story. The inmates were out in the yard having rec time. Rambo was on duty. A prisoner who gets along well with Rambo asked Rambo to open the gate to let him back in the prison because he needed to use the bathroom.

Rambo said, “Do you want me to leave it open so you can come back out?”

Inmate replied, “Nope, you better close it. I think it might be a while.”

Ack. Nice. Boys are just inherently gross.

Rambo decides to get on the intercom of this guy’s cell and say, “Hey….do you need some encouragement? I can cheer you on. Go, go, go. Push it out, way out. Get mad at the turd. Ugghhhh.” And on and on.

You get the picture. Two other inmates are nearly hyperventilating from laughing so hard.

Then another guard decides to force flush this guy’s toilet.

The inmate – being a man – thinks this is funny and yells, “You @ssholes!”

The other two inmates now are almost on the floor dying laughing. They’ve never seen anything so funny.

*sigh* Really? Is this my life?

The whole time I’m hearing this story I’m thinking – do I laugh or do I cry? We’re talking about poop here. And force flushing. And cheerleading turds.

I can’t take it.

I find myself defending a prisoner I don’t even know. I tell Rambo, “You’re evil. That is a terrible thing to do. I can’t even imagine someone knowing I’m doing that and then someone cheerleading me and people laughing and the toilet flushing underneath me randomly. I’m breaking out in hives thinking about it.”

Why does men + poop always = funny?

Seriously folks, when you go home and someone asks how your day was and they tell you how theirs was….listen intently and respond accordingly and be damn thankful it’s not the story above. When I ask Rambo how his day was – THIS is what I hear. And then I get to throw up in my mouth a little.

Again, I must say…I could not live in prison. Nope. Well, I could. But I’d never poop again.

On a less graphic and happier note…I’d like to say I did 110 minutes on the treadmill last night. 10 mins short of 2 hours! 966 calories!
In my warped head, as long as I did less than 2 hours, I kept myself out of the “exercise lunatic” category. It felt GREAT. I could have went on forevah! And it’s definitely good marathon training to go that long and that far.

It sucks a fat baby’s ass that even with that 110 minutes, the scale never moved. Hmm…could be all those donuts.

Today at work? Oh yes…let me tell you.

Free donuts, free movie popcorn and free cake.

Yup, this is the same place that just started a Weight Watchers at work program.

Brilliant right?

God help me.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Taking ass kicker applications.

Hmmm…how shall I say this?


Um, wait. That came out wrong. What I mean is my diet sucks big green donkey dicks.

For realz. If you’re coming here today for food or workout advice…freaking hit the X button and get out of this blog right away.

For three days I was a workout eat right guru. No lie – spot on perfect. 75 minutes on the treadmill each night – under calories – feeling sexy as hell – and BAM.

The night of the bully intervention came and it all went to hell after that. Now – no – I had no idea that’s when it went to hell until I just started thinking about it today.

I mean I ate like crap. Never even looked at the treadmill. Stopped journaling. Stopped giving a damn. I completely checked out of my health and I completely want to kick my own ass for it.

You think I’m exaggerating perhaps? Fine. I shall prove you wrong.

Want to know what I had so far today by 11am?

TWO donuts – one jelly-filled, one crème filled
Mountain Dew

Translation: sugar, sugar and more sugar.

And on the agenda for this afternoon?

More Mountain Dew and a Milky Way because the mother-effer Rambo thinks it’s sweet to bring me home treats. Kinda like the Doritoes and cupcakes he brought home last night. I hate him.

Oh and fresh popped movie popcorn is free all week here at work. Lovely.

I’d like to shove that fresh popped popcorn smell up Explosive Man’s ass. Who in their right mind can resist that stuff? It’s like the nectar of the Gods.

So yes, I’ve been living in CareBear Land where the faucets pour out soda and the clouds rain candy….and I lay around all day with my mouth open. The only physical thing I did all weekend was chew…and dessert with Rambo if you can count that.

So what’s a girl to do?

Confess first of all. Which I just did.

And get my now more chubby ass back on the treadmill. Tonight I have a board meeting to run but no excuses – I will do 80 minutes when I get home.

Oh and tan too. Being tan hides my stretch marks and cellulite so I can pretend it doesn’t exist.

So I’m taking applications for anyone who wants to volunteer to come here and kick my ass? Any takers?

Thanks to this last week – it’s a bigger ass to kick so only apply if you have big feet. *sigh*

Watermelon + Principal = no hives or tears!!!!

Alright, where did we leave off? Oh yes – Watermelon shocked me by saying she wanted to see the Principal alone.

Naturally, most of Friday I watched the clock….thinking any minute I’d get a sobbing phone call asking me to come rescue her. I worried. I wondered what was happening and when.

I felt like that old cliché – “this hurts me more than it hurts you” – all day long because I honestly wondered which of us was more nervous and anxious.

I never got a phone call. I picked her up after school and she was smiling.

I went and talked to the teacher and I asked her how things went. The teacher said that both girls saw the Principal right away in the morning together. Later on in the afternoon, Rose started yelling at Watermelon and the teacher told them both to go see the Principal again.

The teacher said she isn’t sending Watermelon to be in trouble – but so that she can go with Rose to tell the Principal what happened so he can deal with it. She said Watermelon doesn’t raise her voice and act naughty like Rose does but she wants Rose to know that her and the Principal will not tolerate anything from her so each time she does something she’ll be going to see the Principal.

She said she is giving extra hugs to Watermelon throughout the day as she knows Watermelon is the kind of kid who needs that.

At home, I asked Watermelon how it went. She said at the first meeting, the Principal mainly talked to Rose and told her he knows she has a reputation for being disruptive and mean to students and teachers and Rose needs to make a decision about if she wants to change and be a mean kid or a nice kid. He said it won’t be tolerated.

Watermelon said it was GREAT. Ha – I’m raising an evil kid huh?

The second time Watermelon said she didn’t understand why she had to go when she did nothing wrong but I explained to her she has to tell the Principal what happened. He told them they both need to be separated if they can’t get along and moreso this time put the blame on them both.

Watermelon said she really wanted to cry that time – but she didn’t.

I told her we were VERY proud of her, for going in there, standing up for herself and standing on her own. We told her this is the first step and things will get fixed.

She said she thought she’d feel more relieved and we told her this will take more than a day to fix.

Later, I saw Rambo hugging her with her arms wrapped around him and her head against his chest and his cheek resting on the top of her head and I heard him say how proud he was….and I left them alone.

To see the man I love go from being the man dressed in a guard’s uniform trained in riot tactics to a father with a gentle voice changing who my daughter is on the inside can take my breath away.

I’m not ashamed to say that I’m jealous of my own daughter. Never, ever in my life has my dad held me that way or spoken such gentle words to me. Just for a second, I let myself imagine what that would have been like. I let myself wonder how different of a woman I would be.

And then I made the thoughts stop. I can’t go there. Or I’ll never stop being angry.

It is the past. I can’t make someone they are not. I can only be grateful my girls have what I didn’t.

I asked Watermelon throughout the day if she was proud of what she had done and proud of herself and she’d just say, “I don’t know.”

As the day ended, Watermelon came up to me and said, “You know Mom, I guess I am proud of myself.”

I only said, “Well, you should be. I couldn’t have done what you did without crying or without my mom there so you’re very strong.”

That’s the last we talked about it. And today there is no school so I don’t know what happens next.

She did say Rose told everyone what happened in the meetings and when people asked Watermelon she told them it was between her and Rose and it was private. *sigh*

So yah, that’s where it’s at right now…and I’ll keep you posted on where it’s headed.

And again…thank you all….I know your thoughts were with Watermelon…and your strength was too. Friday was proof of that.

Watermelon met with the Principal twice – without a tear or a hive in sight.

Makes me wonder if she’s really mine???

Saturday, February 19, 2011

I haven't paid it forward in a for Laura at Beers, Dogs and Getting Healthier...

I'm doing a shout out.

Laura started using Herbalife shakes after I posted about them and I know a few others of you were curious about them so I thought I'd let you guys know about her.

And um - I *LOVE* her blog title!!  She's a cutie-patootie!

So please...follow her if you so desire.

Her blog is  .

And really - the truth is - after the blog love I experienced this week...the thought of someone else having that warms my heart.

Love to you all.

Friday, February 18, 2011

She simply said no............the bully update.

Growing up is a process, isn’t it?

I’m still growing up every day and it sucks green donkey dicks most days – and other days it’s freaking exhilarating.

Yes, bully intervention was last night. I walked in there (covered in hives)(wanting to throw up)(needing to pee my pants)…but I walked in there and acted like I owned the place.

Me - nervous? Hell no. Whatever gave you that idea? Oh the shaking. That’s just my withdrawal coming through – it’s been 5 minutes since I had my last Xanax.

I’m kidding. I’ll have you know – I had no Xanax. None. Nada. Zilch.

Hives yes. Xanax no.

I didn’t walk in there alone. I’m not kidding. I felt like I had hundreds of bloggers prayers, spirit and advice right behind me…like a blog army of love. And it felt goooood.

I started the meeting by saying “Watermelon wants out of this school. We’ve tried everything on our own and now we’re coming to you for help. She’s becoming all-consumed by this, she can’t concentrate, she’s upset constantly. Will you help us?”

I went on to explain specific instances. I told them all the methods we’ve tried with other counselors, teachers, adults and on our own – to fix this. The Principal wasn’t aware of these things and said, “It’s my turn. Let me do what I can to fix this. It is unacceptable and will not be tolerated. Give me a chance.”

Hallelujah! Have at it Mr. Principal!! (and could you kick her bratty little ass while you’re at it)

I told him we have compassion for Rose’s situation. I know she’s alone a lot. I know when she’s alone she watches movies like Paranormal Activity. I know she has no role models.

They agreed – but said that’s not my Watermelon’s problem and it’s no excuse.

It was good. We felt heard.

I found out all day long Rose knew that Rambo and I were coming to school and she taunted Watermelon all day saying, “You’re the Queen aren’t you? The world revolves around you.” and on and on.

Good – Rose needs to know we are here. We won’t allow her to bully our daughter and we will be present.

The Principal said if there is backlash from Watermelon calling us in he’ll consider it harassment and take action.

I did not cry. I did not falter. I said everything I meant to say. I told them I refuse to under-react due to the changes in my daughter and the headlines we’ve seen lately.

They heard me.


Now onto the hard part. I do believe that as a 10 year old, Watermelon honestly wanted for the simplest solution to come out of our meeting. Rose would be punished. Watermelon wouldn’t have to do anything. Life would be rainbows again. End of story.

But that ain’t real life folks. I told her that she needs to speak to the Principal. He can’t possibly fix things or ask Rose about things if Watermelon won’t give him specific instances to call Rose out on. I told her to get mad if she has to – instead of scared. I told her to take her power back. I told her she wasn’t in trouble. I told her even if she was – our love remains – but she is not in trouble.

She said she still felt like she was in trouble. The Principal is still a man, an authority figure and “the Principal”. She stormed out. Said she couldn’t talk about this anymore. Then she got physically and visibly sick. She almost threw up. She said she wasn’t going to school the next day.

I talked her through it. I said that was fine – but she’d have to talk to him the day she did go back – so it was inevitable. I told her she had to stand up for herself. I told her Rose was going to go in to talk to him – and I knew she was as strong or stronger than Rose. I told her she had to be the voice of all the others Rose bullies who don’t have the courage to tell the Principal.

When she said she was scared and it was hard I said hell yah it is. I said life is hard. I admitted that today “I” was nervous and scared but I did it. I went. I admitted that sometimes my work is hard but I go every day. We don’t back down – we face fears.

I wondered if I was talking to her….or to myself.

I told her those were the choices. Tell the Principal so he can confront Rose or let it continue. I told her to imagine this getting completely better and having good days. We told her if she couldn’t voice what had happened now or in the future – she can write what happened down and give it to her teacher or Principal but she must keep telling an adult….in some way. They can’t fix what they don’t know.

And then I left her alone. To think.

I heard tears. I heard her yell and say, “I’m so confused. I’m so frustrated.”

I forced myself to stay out of her room. I had to trust she’d figure this out herself. I gave her all the tools and all the words I had. I had hugged her and told her we loved her no matter what. I had nothing left to offer but my silent prayer that she’d do the right thing.

I know in my heart that at her age, in this situation – I could not have talked to the Principal. I simply would have sat and sobbed…out of fear and anxiety and nervousness. I cannot let that be something I pass on to her. I have to show her she’s stronger than me. I have to tell her I know she can do this…even if no one ever told me that.

We didn’t talk about it anymore that night. She stopped crying and stopped being “sick”. She watched TV with us. When I tucked her in – I said, “Remember, get mad instead of scared. She can’t do this to you.” And I threw in a GIRL POWER knuckle punch – and I walked out the door.

I knew I wouldn’t sleep. And I didn’t – but I’ll wear my exhaustion as a badge of honor today because it is what a good mother would do. And yesterday? I was a good mother.

By 4am I knew that if Watermelon was going to be able to get any words out in the meeting with the Principal, she’d need support. I had a plan to have my mother in the room…not as a contributor but as a support. She wouldn’t have to do it alone. When Rambo left for work at 4:30am I told him my plan and he said it was fine by him.

At 6am, I walked into Watermelon’s room to find her making a list. A list of specific instances in which Rose had made her felt bullied. The list numbered 14 so far. Inside I was doing cartwheels. On the outside I stayed calm and said, “Good job, this is your chance to get it all out. Tell him everything you can remember and tell him about others who she has bullied who don’t have the courage to tell him themselves.”

I went on to tell her that I could arrange for Grandma to be in the room when she spoke to the Principal. Not to add anything, but just to be there for her. I asked if that would help and if she wanted that.

I thought her eyes would light up and she’d show relief…but I was wrong.

She simply said, “No.”

I said, “Do you want her in the hallway in case you’re upset and need to talk when you are done?”

She simply said, “No.”

I said, “Do you want her phone number because she can be there in one minute if you need her today?”

She simply said, “No.”

I said, “Are you sure?” She said yes. I said okay and kept on with the morning getting ready tasks. I was shocked and even confused.

She came out later and said to me, “Mom, I don’t want Grandma there because I want to show the Principal that I’m strong enough to do this on my own.”

Sweet Jesus. My daughter has a backbone. Where the hell did she get that?

For a moment, I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say.

Then I said, “Good…because you ARE strong enough to do this on your own.”

She went with her list. I told her if anyone asks what she talked to the Principal about she was to tell them that’s private information. I told her Rose may lie or admit what she has done or say Watermelon is the bully. I told her to stick to the facts and know that her Dad and I are with her every moment.

And I told her no matter what – we are proud of her.

Every time I said something like that to her, for an instant, I would revert to being a little girl just like her…who desperately needed words like these – and never got them. They aren’t so hard to say. They change lives, actions, and emotions. They build backbones. They prevent my daughter from becoming someone like her mother – who gets hives and makes excuses not to go places and gets sick – and stuff like that.

Yah, I could have been so different. And dammit, I’m determined my child will be.

She will not live in fear, worry and anxiety. And every time I can free her a little bit more of those word prisons….I break out a little more myself. I start to believe and I start to trust…myself.

I am not a little girl anymore. I am a mother.

I am growing up.

I am exhilarated.

I am powerful.

And my daughter saw all of that today.

Thanks, in part….to each of you…..

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Bully Intervention....the countdown begins...

In this life, I’m unsure of a lot of things. One thing I am sure of however – is that I won’t be able to find the right words to tell you the strength your words have given me in regards to this bully situation.

Being social inept and anxious pretty much defines me as a non-fighter. A non-stand-up-for-myself kind of girl. A door mat – yours free to walk on. And after you’ve stepped all over me – I’ve been known to even say “thank you”. I am an avoid-conflict-at-all-costs woman. I’ll say I’m sorry when it’s not my fault and I’ll stay up all night worried about how you feel – never once giving a thought to my migraine-inflicted, hive covered, ugly-crying face and body.

That being said…this instance? Well, this instance is about my child.

And I can honestly say that up until this point as a mother, I have never had to verbally fight for my child much less fight for her with a Superintendent, a teacher and a counselor in the room.

While I’m dreading it and can’t focus on anything else…part of me wants to see what my body does in fight mode – for my child. And no, I’m not walking in defensive or ready for a fight. I just mean I know that my job is to protect my daughter and stick to the facts and demand a solution if necessary.

I can admit I’m scared though. I know that after our meeting, the administrators cannot come down hard on “Rose” and only Rose. That would backfire on my daughter. And the truth is that Rose is a clever bully and gets others to do her bullying for her so some others could use a refresher course in right and wrong as well.

For example, last week she told every boy in class she’d pay them each $10 to say mean things to my daughter and another girl. The boys came over and told them what Rose had asked them to do and proceeded to say mean things to get their money. Sooo clearly – the boys aren’t exactly following the no bully rule either.

And Rose is a subtle bully. The teacher asked each child to make a Valentine for each student in the class and they were to write something nice about the person on them. Rose wrote on my daughter’s: “Thank you for being nice. Sometimes.” Now yes – that’s not so bad – but really? You had to add the “sometimes” in there – to get a dig.

On days when Watermelon has come home crying, I have called other mothers to see what their child said happened. And nearly word for word – the stories are the same so it’s pretty clear my daughter and the other kids aren’t lying when they all tell the same story even when separated.

I told my daughter that we’re going to work on a solution and that we will work together until it’s solved.

Watermelon is nervous. Rose saw Rambo ask the teacher for a conference and stopped and said to my daughter: “Why is your dad talking to the teacher? I though we settled this and we were going to let it slide?” Watermelon said, “I never agreed to that and he asks how my day goes and I tell him.” Rose said, “Well I hope I don’t get in trouble.”

And last night Rose had detention for her attitude in class and her disruptions. I do feel badly for her. She has no one to teach her what it means to be a friend or be nice.

The other school counselor verbally told me all the teachers have noticed that lately Rose has become more disruptive, meaner and unruly when I expressed concern about a week ago. The solution was for the counselor to have lunch with all the girls once a week. It didn’t work.


I want you all to know that while you may think your blog commenting is sometimes only words and that sometimes when you feel helpless because we are too far away from each other – you’re wrong. I went home and sat down with Rambo and repeated everything you guys said like: We’re going to stay calm. We’re not going in on the defensive. We have to ask them to help us find a solution. They want to help us. Etc Etc.

I told him stories you guys told me. I told him my heart broke to hear so many of you had bullying examples from your own childhoods. I told him we have to over-emphasize our love for Watermelon. Tell her she’s talented and amazing and give her the self-confidence it takes to know whatever any bully says is false.

I even told Watermelon your stories.

I felt your strength and I heard your encouragement and I’m taking your advice. And before it even goes down – I’m saying thank you. Your level of caring is inspiring and not taken for granted and I hope to return the favor some day.

I can be a stronger mother for Watermelon today…..because of you….and I want you to know that I realize that’s no small thing.

Stay tuned for an update on the intervention

You asked for it. Okay, of you did.

Sooooo no - this is not a real bonafide Triple U Thursday picture where I pick a body part and love it to death in an effort to learn to love ALL of me. 

BUT it IS a picture post and it IS of something I love and it IS mine. 

Here's the thing - those "I love me" pictures are really hard for me to do.  I analyze them and it takes me forever to hit "post" and then all day I just want to "un-post" them.  It's hard to say things I love about whatever part I pick.  Like seriously I do a few - then take a break...until I can do a few more.

This is my "take a break" time....I hope you understand...

Instead I give you my disgusting, sweaty clothes (crotch included photos)....ACK!

Some of you asked for this so you can't complain if it grosses you out.  Others of you who asked me to spare you the pics - um - I'm sorry.  Look away if you must.  I won't be offended.

Enter evidence:

The shirt!  Can I just say it's totally fun that my back sweat is in the shape of a heart?  Okay - yes - borderline crazy.  I know.  I'm sorry.

And the ultimate nasty-ness below!  Ewwww!
Okay - yes - this picture isn't that bad...but there's another one I took that is just the crotch - like head on - and it makes me vomit in my mouth a little so I chose to show this one instead.  A little bit longer and my crotch sweat would have met the sweat at the top of my shorts in the middle....again -yes - crazy I know.

And there you go.  Proof that I'll do anything not to have to say I love a part of my body for one more week!

Yes, even for me, I've sunk to a new personal low.  Have pity on me.

Tonight is the bully intervention and I can only handle so many stressful things per day mmkkaayy?

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Need your advice please.

I’m sitting at my desk…covered in hives. And I’d like to throw up but it’s not very professional so I’ll hold it in. I have enough adrenaline flowing through my system right now that I think I could run three marathons and kick Barney’s ass with one hand tied behind my back.

I am wound tight.

Here’s the scoop…and I could really use some insight from all of you out there.

There is a little girl in my 10 year old daughter’s class. Let’s call her Rose.

Now I am not without compassion for Rose’s circumstances BUT I’m done with those circumstances affecting my child’s education and day. You see Rose comes from a divorced family – a BAD divorce. Textbook nasty divorce where the only people really suffering are the kids.

This little girl is 10 and I’ve seen her miles from home on her pedal bike – alone. I know she is left alone a lot – and watches scary movies she shouldn’t. I don’t think she gets much attention. I’m sure she is lonely, sad and emotionally crippled. She has older step-brothers who are in jail or have lengthy criminal histories. Not a lot of role models to speak of.

So I get that being a bully is all about protecting herself. It’s about “I’ll get you before I let one more person get to me”. It’s a coping mechanism.

I get that. But it’s unacceptable.

She is constantly in my daughter’s face. Spewing words of venom. Making accusations. About stupid little girl things but you all know that as little girls – what happens with our friends during the day is our life and it is important.

I have told her to stay away from this girl. The girl follows her.

I have told her to tell Rose that she doesn’t want to talk to her. She did that and Rose told a teacher and the teacher told my daughter “if someone wants to talk to you – it’s nice to talk back”….so there goes my just don’t talk to her theory.

Yesterday, my daughter was crying in class over something Rose said. The teacher never noticed.

Every day for about two weeks – my daughter comes home visibly upset. She is asking to be home-schooled. She is asking me to switch schools.

Now yes – I know I can’t solve every problem for my child BUT this is enough. I mean yes – it is just words – but it is bullying. Rose doesn’t have to like my child but she can be told to stay away from my child. Just leave her alone.

I told my daughter there will be bullies everywhere and we can’t change Rose. As an adult – I get that. As a mother – is it wrong I want to wring this little girl’s neck?

Finally – after weeks of this, Rambo has had enough. We’ve been talking to more parents whose kids are also being bullied by Rose but they don’t have the balls to do anything about it. Rambo and I are meeting with the teacher, the counselor and the Superintendent.

My body is going to be a ball of nerves, hives and stomach upset. I will be shaking. And I’m so afraid I’ll cry. I’m so afraid they’ll all say this is no big deal. They have to find a way to get along without adult intervention. Your child is sensitive. Blah, blah, blah.

Maybe she is sensitive but we are dealing with a known bully here. No matter what a child’s personality is – don’t we work on solutions and try to make each child happy no matter the disabilities or personalities or situations at home?

Is this my fault? Have I not shown my daughter how to stand up for herself? Have I not taught her that what a bully says isn’t true? Could I have done anything to prevent this?

And no – it won’t matter if they tell Rose’s mother. If the mother cared in the first place, this wouldn’t be happening. Really – these girls are 10 – they know right and wrong. They should find a solution on their own but the adults do need to be aware and on watch.

Sensitive kids hurt more. Bad things can happy even from word bullying. I don’t want to over-react but I can’t do nothing anymore. I’ve given her advice for two weeks and it’s not working.

I know my daughter is not perfect and she makes mistakes. I’m not a naïve parent who thinks my kid can do no wrong but this sadness every day is real. When my child begs me to not send her to school every day – my heart nearly snaps in two. I’m at a loss.

And now I’m angry. Covered in hives and angry = not a good combo.

So tell me – what would you do?  Or say?  To make them believe I'm concerned, this matters and it's not okay!

Anonymous, Obessive, Sweaty Crotches and Turkey Basters...

My favorite part of the day is making my blog title.  This one says it all huh?

I must have the smartest Anonymous commenters on Earth. Out of my entire, long, drawn out blog post from yesterday, an anonymous follower caught the fact that not letting my kids having a cup of water to house their one flower was pretty terrible of me. Hence, the evil Drazil in my head translates that to mean, “See? Someone else noticed you’re the worst mother on Earth.”


To the anonymous commenter who said I in effect ruined my kids Valentine’s Day….rest assured they didn’t sob in corners all night long and I made it up to them later with their favorite supper and cuddle time on the couch. Their flowers survived and we prevented a massive mess later by saying no to the water. I have idiot cats (who we love to death) who have this thing about any filled cups on counters. You leave the cup for a second and they are tipped over and on the floor before you know it.

Um – does anyone else wonder why I’m explaining myself to someone named Anonymous?

Insecure much?  Geez.
I also need to say I crossed into Obsessive Land yesterday with regards to my fitness. So yes, this week I have been to Care Bear Land, Pissed Off City, Grouchy Town and now Obsessive Land. I’m a big traveler.

Anywhoozle, I did another 75 minutes on the treadmill last night. I had to make myself stop. I wanted another 30 minutes at least. I literally felt myself getting pissed that I had to get off. I want to hold on to the “powerful” feeling I have on there for as long as I can after a long day. That was the first indication I crossed into obsession. The second indication?

I came upstairs. Took off my shirt and shorts – laid them out – propped them nicely – displayed them – AND? Yup – took pictures of them. Sweaty pits, neck, back, and crotch.

I took pictures of my sweaty vajinna marks people. Yup, folks – I sweat where my thighs bend and meet my vajinna and it’s soooo sexy. Not.

I came upstairs first and said to Rambo, “Hey look. Your wife has a sweaty crotch. Isn’t that sexy?”

His response?

“Totally. I’d still tap that.” God – he’s so romantic huh?

Sooo – I didn’t include the pictures because I think it makes me borderline crazy. Do you agree or do you wanna see my sweaty vajinna pictures?

And no – I’m not misspelling vagina. It’s how I say them now – vajinna and penice. (Like someone with an accent would say “you’re a winnah (winner) and penice sounds like Venice)

Speaking of penices…a girl here at work is thinking of buying a home insemination kit. We’re all trying to convince her to just use a turkey baster. That’d totally work wouldn’t it? Heck – who needs a penice when you can use a turkey baster anyway?

Just be sure to throw it in the dishwasher before you use it to actually baste a turkey next time. Actually – on second thought – just throw it out. It’s worth just buying a new one in my opinion.

But what do I know? I’m the woman who crushes her little girl’s spirits by killing their flowers.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

The creature...named Lily.

• After the morning of crabfest 2011 yesterday, I allowed myself to continue into anger and grouchfest afternoon 2011. I went from pity party central to angry town in what seemed like split seconds. It is quite possible that learning that Rambo would have to pull a double shift at the prison meaning the girls and I would not even see his face on Valentine’s Day may have set me off…but I’ll never admit that. After all, Valentine’s is just a number – 2-14….right? Right. Although I’m guessing Hallmark and the flower stores may beg to differ with me.

• My little girls got a few flowers from their sitter yesterday. As most normal people would do, as soon as we got home they wanted to put said flowers into a cup of water. As any non-normal, non-mother of the year would do – I said no. Come on – they each had one flower. The kitties would knock over each glass in a second flat and we’d have water on the floor, tears, wilted flowers and even more pissed off Mommy. As I sat down to get undressed, the 5 year old popped into my room and said in her most unforgiving tone, “Thanks a lot for the dead flowers, Mom.”

And she stomped off. I do believe I’ve just been word-whipped by a 5 year old.

Happy Effing Valentine’s Day.

• I decided the day might suck and all but I regained some composure when I decided I was going to work out even with the stick firmly planted up my ass. I ran my ample stick-filled ass off. 75 minutes on the treadmill and MY GOD – if I didn’t have kids – I’d have run for another 75 minutes. It felt that good. It was one of those times when it came easy, it wasn’t hard and I was drenched in sweat and I was loving it. I did not want to stop.

You see – for me – on the treadmill I am really who I am at my core.

Strong. Independent. Self-sufficient. Un-stressed. Powerful.

I make my own choices about time and speed and distance. I watch what I want on TV. I don’t have to talk. I don’t have to be in a certain mood because it’s politically correct. I don’t have to look nice. I don’t have to be a professional. I don’t have to be a business woman. I don’t have to be a mother, a wife, a sister, or a friend. All that is required of me on there is to move.

It allows me to be me – in my truest form. And on days like yesterday when I feel like I’ve lost myself – the treadmill is a Godsend. I want to sleep on the sucker. For realz.

• Alas – I did get off the treadmill. I cooked supper like moms do. I had no appetite after running so hard so unfortunately I ended the day at a little over 300 calories. Whatever. I did some work, I helped Watermelon with her homework and I lost my mind in stupid reality TV. I went to bed alone….back to being pissed at the world. *sigh*

• Why pissed again you ask? Wellll let me tell you. I mentioned our state is in a huge state of unrest – political unrest. People are up in arms. Rallies and riots are planned. Strikes, decertification of unions, layoffs…..all those nasty words are being slung around as commonly as the word “the”. It is a scary time. Which leads to my pissy-ness because that “unrest” is being spread all throughout Facebook. Holy crap – I can barely read people’s non-factual, uneducated posts. People are reacting based on emotions and not facts and it’s troubling.

The last straw? My first cousin wrote this on her status. “If I have deleted you – it’s because your political views piss me off.” My brothers who are both VERY into politics commented something like “way to keep an open mind cousin”…..and she promptly deleted them. First cousins. Just like that. Done and done.

You could argue it’s a simple deletion but we all know that FB deletions carry meaning. Dumb, but true. Won’t family Cmas be fun? Oy.

• Lastly, I would like to say that my 5 year old has turned over a new leaf in the drama department. She used to be the mellow, go with the flow kid and now? Well, she has become her mother. While I was on the treadmill she came downstairs with big red puffy eyes and a pouty lip and she said, “Mom, there is a bug in my room. Please get it out.”

Being the heroic mother I am, I say, “No problem…as soon as I come upstairs I will.” She goes back upstairs.

When I get up there, I have forgotten about the bug but she has definitely not. She STILL has puffy red eyes and she says, “Mom – I am not going back into my room until you get that creature out of there.”

Creature? When did a tiny bug become a creature? Holy crap – I better go find this thing. By the sounds of it we could be dealing with the Loch Ness monster or something.

We go in and I find out it’s a ladybug after she describes it to me. Of course, it is nowhere to be found. She asks all the important questions like, “Does it bite? Will it grow? Is it mean?”

I say no no no and I can tell she thinks I’m lying through my teeth until I, the almighty mother of the day, remember what is on my feet! I have ladybugs tattooed on my feet. How can a ladybug be dangerous if Mommy has them on her feet? I tell her this – she is visibly relieved. I tell her the ladybug is gone – somewhere else in the house by now.

A few minutes later I am cooking and I hear her yelling, “Lily, here Lily” and looking everywhere.

Oh yah – you guessed it. She has now named the creature Lily and we must find her so she can become our pet. She won’t stop yelling Lily and looking for the damn thing.

That is until I tell her that Lily is in the light fixture with her other “dead” relatives. She went up there for the heat and she loves it there. Light fixture paradise….made for creatures like Lily. (See? There is actually a good reason not to clean a few dead ladybugs out of your light fixture.)

Drama over.

Now do you wonder why I’m exhausted? Can you believe I accomplish all this AND fart gumdrops?

I know, I know. I even amaze myself sometimes.

Monday, February 14, 2011


I feel like Cindy Lauper…you know…Manic Monday-ish?

I feel unrest inside. I feel questions with no answers. Like the big one – is this really what my life is supposed to be about? Work M-F full time? Work M-S part time? Live, breathe, eat, and sleep - in the same pattern each week? Never really making my mark on the world? Never really helping anyone? Never really using the gifts I’ve been given to do what I’m passionate about?


I have no answers.

Also, last week at one point I was down 4 pounds. Then the weekend came and I ate a piece of cake and had an extra Mountain Dew. Yah – no biggie – especially when I burn a lot off in workouts. But I skipped two workouts.

Still – as my official Monday weigh in – I’m only down ½ pound from last Monday. Nice. No way in hell did I eat that many calories but the weight comes back. I want to scream and give up and throw a tantrum…but I’ll just keep going…even if it’s ½ pound at a time.

There is workplace angst at the prison. Union unrest. Talk of strikes and rallies and such. I don’t want to think about any of it. I don’t want to be educated enough to debate it with the best of them. I want to sit in ignorance and plead dumb. So I don’t have to feel the worry that follows each debate.

29 weeks until I said I’d run a half marathon. Today I wonder if that’s a pipe dream. Something I’ll never accomplish. Another thing I said I’d do – but maybe I won’t.

Tomorrow I’ll know different. Today I have my doubts.

I moved Watermelon’s room around this weekend. In the process she decided she didn’t want my HUGE teddy bear any more. To her, it’s just a bear. To me, it is the representation of things my Dad can’t say. Years ago when I was a little girl, one Christmas, my dad got us each a present just from him. Not from Mom and not from Santa.

From him only.  It is the only Christmas of my life he has done that.

Mine was a huge bear. As big as me at the time. Its paw says “I love you”. I have carried that bear from my childhood home, to my first home to the home we are in now. Watermelon doesn’t want it anymore and part of me said, “Throw it out. It’s a huge stuffed bear. Where the heck do you have space for that? It’s soo old. It’s time.”

And then Banana, the 5 year old saw it laying there and she scooped it up. She cannot even put her hands around the entire thing because it’s so big. She carries it and you can’t see her head. Only her feet sticking out. She slept with it last night.

She slept with my memory. She slept with my symbol of love.

And this morning she carried it to the car…and to the sitter’s house….up the steps and into the living room.

You’d think I’d be happy. The bear has been “adopted” by my other little girl. It won’t be thrown out. It won’t be tossed aside any time soon.

But for some reason it hurts me. While yes, I keep the bear in my house and have for all these years…it is rarely something I see and rarely something I think about. When Watermelon had it she kept it out of sight.

Now it is with me 24/7. Every time I turn around there it is. And there lies the meaning behind it. There lies the memory of one Christmas that actually meant something.

One moment that signifies to me that in all these years – that relationship hasn’t changed. It is the same as it was back then. No words. No hugs. No time spent.

I still just have bits and pieces of a father…and I thought by now I would have and could have changed that into something bigger. Something more…than a huge teddy bear.

And I don’t want to be reminded of that.

So there you have it – lots on my mind. Nothing really wrong…but nothing feels right. It’s the Manic Monday syndrome I tell you.

I won’t be farting any gumdrops today that’s for sure.

A Skittle bath may be in order though!

Friday, February 11, 2011

BYOC Friday!!!!! ♥♪ Bring Your Own Crazy ♥♪

BYOC Friday….5 little questions you can copy and paste into your blog to get to know each other better and to give your blogging brain a break!


1. What day of the week do you love and what day of the week do you hate?

Love: I’m sure it’s Saturday because the night before I could stay up late and that morning I could sleep in since the next day is Sunday. For me, Saturday is pretty much no makeup, no doing my hair and staying in my PJs all damn day.

Hate: Hmm…this is tough. I used to hate Mondays but now I kind of crave them. Sometimes I don’t like Sundays because they signify the weekend being over…so yah…either Sunday or Monday for me.

2. What is your middle name and is there a meaning behind it?

Mine is Therese. It is my Godmother’s middle name so that’s why my mom picked it. I like that it’s unique. It’s not Theresa or Teresa – there is no A. It’s Therese.

3. Since I’m dreaming of my next tattoo, I’m going to ask this one. Do you have any tattoos? How many? If you don’t have one – what would you get if you did have one?

I have 7 right now. The only one that you can see all the time is on the underside of my wrist and it matches the theme of the one on Rambo’s wrist. All the others are covered so most people don’t know I have that many. It’s like my dirty little secret. All of mine except one have deep meaning. They honor my children, Rambo, our love, or people I have lost. I’d like my next one to have meaning too but I’m having trouble deciding on it. Rambo is in the midst of getting his entire back done and when he’s done it’s my turn so I gotta figure it out soon.

4. On that same theme of dirty little secrets…how many piercings do you have? Any you wish you had?

I ask this because I seriously want a teeny tiny diamond stud in my nose BUT I’ll never get it. I work in a professional office that works for the government AND my parents may indeed disown me. They abhor my tattoos so if I got a nose piercing it would send them over the edge. Beyond wanting that – I have 6 piercings. Get your minds out of the gutter…I have 3 in each ear. I had my belly button pierced about 3 times since my stomach is numb and it didn’t hurt but it always migrated out. Dang it. My tattoo artist/piercer woman keeps at me to pierce my boobies but I keep telling her no way. Then again – it probably wouldn’t hurt cuz half the time that part of me is numb too.

5. Repeat question: Summarize your life in blog land and in real life.

Blogland has been fun because the lap band BOOB girls are planning their second annual get-together and God bless them – they allow me to join in their group. And Barb is back blogging and commenting and seeing her pop in here and there makes me smile.

Real life is good. My Herbalife shakes kick ass. I’m actually freaking out a little because I’m not hungry. There’s something in them that keeps me full. Now yes – that’s a good thing except I’m not into getting thinner by starvation or unhealthy means. Like yesterday, I ended up eating 1025 calories which is fine as my aim is between 1000 and 1200 BUT then I did 80 minutes on the treadmill (I chose to walk slowly as I wasn’t trying to burn massive calories) and burned 450 cals which means I ended the day at 575 calories. Not good. But seriously I’m not hungry. I’m not craving anything and have no desire to snack. Freaking weird. Maybe it’ll pass. But for now as of today for the year I’m down 8 pounds….4 of those came this week…… the shakes work. I love their convenience and I actually feel less tired too. It’s crazy isn’t it???

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Questions for you!


While I was getting all sentimental in my other blog post this morning I forgot to ask your advice about something.

Oh first – Herbalife shakes (all natural, one for breakfast, one for lunch, sensible supper)….are going great.

I freaking LOVE not having to plan my meals. 8oz milk and 2 scoops of powder – done and done.

They make me full and they keep me full. I don’t even feel the need to snack and have no urge to eat anything all day besides that. I eat a normal, healthy supper at night. I’ve decided nothing is off limits as long as the portion is okay.

That’s my plan. And it’s working. Two days in – down 4 pounds.

I feel great.

Now yes, I’m working out each day BUT I was doing that before and it would take a week to lose even 1 pound so I’m doing the happy dance.

I did another 75 minutes on the treadmill last night…over 600 calories burned. LOVE IT!

My question is this:

My legs are getting tight. They are getting muscular. They are getting strong. They are sore in a good way. When I walk I feel the difference in my legs. From the butt down – I “feel” what I’ve been doing.

That being said – waist up – nada! I run with weighted gloves on my hands but still….I’m doing NOTHING on the upper half.

And I’m annoyed. I’ve got to balance the two….if only to give my bottom half a much needed break.

I want to box. My question is do any of you have any good boxing DVDs you would recommend. Do any of you have punching bags – hanging or stand alone? Do you love it? Do you just punch for a certain amount of time? Do you just need a pair of gloves? Is boxing effective?

I have no access to boxing classes so that’s out for me.

Thanks in advance for your suggestions!



Really – is there ever a more powerful word?

I read the blog of a dear friend this morning. Her heart is breaking and her life is at a turning point and I think she’s on the cusp of some huge life-changing decisions….but until it all comes in to play – she has moments to get her through. And even though her heart is breaking she has the ability to close her eyes and remember the perfect moments – that got her to this place she’s in now. The moments that taught her that all anyone on this Earth ever really searches for is moments. Snapshots in time. Mental pictures of what we see, hear, smell, taste and touch.

Moments are powerful enough to carry us through the other moments when it feels like it hurts to breathe.

And then I think of Barb – and I think of true loss and I think of moments. Moments in time are what Barb has of her husband. Those moments from the past will break her heart sometimes and at other times they’ll be the reason she is able to keep on living. In the midst of this tragedy, there have been certain moments that I know Barb will never forget – and each moment has molded and shaped Barb into the person she is today.

Every moment is hers. Life nor death can take those moments from her. Not ever.

Then my mind turns to happier moments. Simple moments. Unexpected moments.

Like yesterday. I needed a break. I needed a laugh. And you all know I don’t say I need anything out loud. I don’t ask for help. And I don’t pick up the phone. Ever.

But I did. My mind thought of Jenny, my best friend, and I knew it was what I needed. About 30 minutes of “moments” and my life that felt off the tracks before talking, felt back on the tracks afterwards.

Did we talk about earth shattering things? Nope.

We had moments. Serious moments about parenting and life and careers. Funny moments about Nancy Pelosi and our crazy families. Moments of laughter and giggling. Moments of not so great moments before we met each other. Just moments. Pure and simple, from the heart, unexpected moments on a Tuesday – that touched my heart – and became a treasured memory I’ll think about later and forever.

That is Jenny and I – moments – that are completely genuine without even trying to be.

Then after I got home from work, I got a phone call. Not a good moment. The man that works at the plant for my PT job has lost his wife. Just literally weeks ago they diagnosed her with liver and lung cancer. Weeks – and now she is gone.

I’m in my home with my two beautiful children and in another home just a mile down the road – family is gathered – reliving moments they’d do anything to get back. Hating moments like when their mother took her last breath. Anticipating moments like her funeral with dread and fear.

That’s the thing – no matter the moments everyone is facing – the world continues to turn. It never stops – regardless of your moment.

Rambo worked from 2pm to 11pm last night doing SWAT training. An odd night shift but the perfect opportunity for a moment. I stayed up until I knew he was off – though I was exhausted. To call and say, “Drive safe, hurry home, I love you. I didn’t do the dishes.”

To which he responded, “Baby, get your cute ass to sleep right now, I’m coming home to you, I love you. Don’t worry…I’ll do the dishes.”

Another moment. Another couple of words. Mere seconds at 11pm on a Tuesday. Our moment.

A moment enough to let me peacefully fall asleep. A moment I’m sure I’ll look back on some day and remember as I’m doing now.

Moments are all we have. Every moment is a gift. Even when the moments suck I try to remember that someone smarter than me is trying to teach me something or show me something I’ve been lacking. Every moment is an opportunity to grow, to memorize, to impact someone else, to remember, to teach, to savor.

In my life, I’m guilty of future-living. I live for what’s next – when I get off work, when the weekend comes, when next month comes, when a certain event comes. In doing that I continuously miss the now moment. I miss the really important moments that happen every second by waiting for some better moment to come along.

Yesterday – for some reason – I could see and appreciate every moment for what it was…and I literally saw the circle of life before my eyes it seemed.

Life will always be a mystery to me. I will always hate to see loss and pain. I will always crave love and celebratory events.

But for now – part of learning to balance my life will be learning to literally stay in the moment.

Treasure each moment.

From sitting at my desk, to driving, to running, to tucking my girls in, to hugging Rambo, to bathing in Skittles.

Moments are precious. They are mine to make what I want of them. Mine to remember and cherish and live in.

And I plan on doing just that….until the last moment when I am gone.

So I ask you again....

Has there ever been a more powerful word than....moments?

I believe without moments - there is just mere existence.

And I want more than to just exist.  Don't you?

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

How do you get high?


I need to clarify something about yesterday's post. When I said I went on the treadmill for 70 minutes…um I didn’t mean I ran the whole time. Not yet anyway. I used to run that much the whole time each night, and for the marathon I’m going to have to run for nearly 3 hours straight BUT right now I’m training my legs and lungs soooo….

I’m just doing interval training. That means I walk for one minute at 3 or 3.5 mph. Then I run hard at 6mph for one minute. Then I slow down, hyperventilate, cuss at Satan and catch my breath for one minute at 3 or 3.5mph. Then it’s time for the sprint minute again and each sprint minute I go up by .1mph. So this sprint minute would be at 6.1mph…next sprint minute would be 6.2mph….etc.

Or like tonight I ran for 2 miles straight and then I lowered my speed and every minute I increase the incline by .5mph until I get to an incline of 12.

I always run with weighted gloves on for the extra calorie boost too.

I change it up each night and I'll do this "changing up thing" until I can run one full hour at a base of 6mph or at least 5 miles in an hour.

So I guess what I’m really saying is I’m not as great as you all thought I was for being on there 70 minutes.

I’m not great at all at this point….but I plan to be soon! It’s in the works. For now each night the goal is to increase speed or get in 70 to 75 minutes or burn minimum of 500 calories or go a minimum of 5 miles and be covered in sweat by the time I’m done! Whichever comes first!

I chase the runner’s high like a stoner chases a meth high. It’s that good people. I’m not kidding.

Have any of you guys experienced the runner’s high? Or the exercise endorphine high?

It’s intense. You know it when you hit it. You want it every time. It takes a lot to get there.

Hmm…sound familiar?

And once you get there – you feel like you could rule the world and climb a mountain even if you only had one leg.

It takes me a good half hour to get there. First I hit the wall at about 20 minutes. The wall is the place or the minutes up to the place when it just sucks.

When you can barely keep going.

When you tell yourself at 30 minutes you’re getting off this sucker.

When your legs feel like lead even when you’re barely moving.

Yup - 20 minutes in and I usually hit the wall – a big massive brick wall and I swear on everything that is holy that I will not do more than 30 minutes.  I pray for the 30 minute mark to come SOON.

And then minute 21 comes. And 22. And 23. And by the time I get to 30 – you can’t stop me. When I get to minute 70 or 75 – I don’t want to get off. I literally say to myself…just another 5 minutes – then I’ll get off. I don’t want to stop….because back at minute 30 or 40…I got high.


There’s nothing like it.

Oh it’s still hard. I still feel like I’m going to die during the sprint minutes. The catch my breath minutes go waayyy too fast. I think I can’t do another sprint minute – and then I do it. Over and over again.

I literally chant ATHLETE – ATHLETE – ATHLETE – every time my foot hits the treadmill as I stare at my feet carrying me.

I finish and I write down my distance, cals burned and time done. Because you can bet your ass I’m tracking that. Tracking it is half the fun.

It may be insane. It may be over the top. But that hour or more is MINE. It is MY accomplishment. MY sweat. MY sacrifice. MY stress relief.


So now tell me - how do you get high?

Monday, February 7, 2011

Monday, Monday...with a little electrocution...

Monday, Monday….oh how I love thee lately!

Freaking weird I know! I used to despise Mondays but now I crave them. Give me a second to have a pity party and whine – but weekends are hard for me. Rambo is usually working 16 hour days so that leaves me for nearly 3 days with just the kids in the house and they get bored and I get bored and they misbehave and I get irritated and by the time Sunday night rolls around I’m dying for some time alone.

I know that sounds horrible but I never ever professed to being a stellar stay-at-home mom. I commend those who do it because it’s the hardest job on Earth but I suck at it. And my girls miss Rambo sooo much that every 5 minutes they ask when he’s coming home and tell me how much they miss him – which makes me miss him more.

When he finally got home Sunday for a few hours I stood in front of him with my lip quivering and tears falling and I said, “I suck at this.” Poor guy. What kind of wife does that to a guy who works 16 hour days with criminals? I bitch about being left alone with two darling little girls. *sigh* I’ll never quite understand why he’s still with me.

I took two days off of working out this weekend. I’ve been running too much. My legs were sore and tired and I knew they needed a break and so did I. Last night I went back to it for 70 minutes and burned nearly 600 cals. It felt great and my legs felt revived. Just 30 weeks until the ½ marathon.

Oh and speaking of that….Rambo is indeed doing the ½ marathon with me. He’s walking it and I’m going to try to run it. But now I’ve created a monster. He’s doing some Warrior Run or some damn thing where you climb walls, walk thru waist deep mud, run through fire and smoke and GET ELECTROCUTED!!! What the holy hell? Who does that willingly? Who knew it was even legal?

Jesus. Then again, this is a man who has been willingly tazed by a tazer gun and has been gassed willingly too…all in the name of corrections training and in the hopes of enlarging his cahoneys. I swear that’s the only reason men do ignorant things like that. They think their balls will get bigger every time they tell another human what they voluntarily went through.

In other news, I’m officially dieting. Like using a specific plan – with Rambo. I usually just eat under 1200 calories however I can by preparing my food a week in advance but even then I rarely eat breakfast – which all the gurus say is wrong you know? Sooo I’ve always wondered if SlimFast works. You know the 2 shakes a day and a sensible supper and a few snacks thing BUT SlimFast has aspartame and other artificial sweeteners that are a huge migraine trigger for me and I just would rather not eat them in general.

So anyway, there’s a girl I know who has lost quite a bit of weight using Herbalife shakes. Same concept – one for breakfast and one for lunch and a sensible supper. And they are all natural ingredients, filled with nutrients I wasn’t eating before so it’s good for me actually. I will still get 1200 calories a day so really it’s just a change in what I’m eating but more nutrient/vitamin filled. So anyway, it’s kind of fun to have a plan. I’ve never done an actual diet plan where meals are literally mapped out and not having to think about it is nice. We’ll see how it goes.

That’s all I got for now. Pretty mundane, pretty boring…just regular old gumdrop farting in these parts. Love to you all!

Friday, February 4, 2011

BYOC Friday!!!!! **Bring Your Own Crazy**

It’s Friday!!!!!!!

It’s time for BYOC – Bring Your Own Crazy. Five little questions that you can copy and paste into your blog in an effort to get to know each other better and to give your brain a blog topic break!


1. What piece of clothing can you absolutely not live without?

• My pajamas. For sure. Hands down. The moment I get home I put on pajamas and on weekends I rarely get out of them the entire time. Nothing beats pajamas in my opinion.

2. If you could go back in time for just 24 hours, where would you go and why?

• This is easy for me. I’d go back to the moment my 22 year old Uncle walked past his own father with a rifle in his hands (his father was reading the paper and didn’t look up) and I’d take the rifle and I’d wake up his father and he’d never use that rifle to end his life. My life would have been so different had I been able to stop that.

3. If you could change one feature of your looks, what would it be and why?

• I thought I’d have a lot of answers for this question because it’s so hard for me to love the physical me and I’ve had two plastic surgeries so it’s not like I haven’t literally changed my features on purpose anyway BUT I feel like changing any more of me would make me not me….just for the sake of changing it anyway. I had breast reduction and a tummy tuck because I felt they were necessary and that pre-surgery those parts of me didn’t represent me. But let’s see….hmmm…if I had to choose I think I’d make my arms tiny. I have big man arms and they aren’t feminine and it’s annoying. I guess having gorgeous, thick, lustrous hair would be fun too.

4. What things do you enjoy or only do when you’re alone? (All you perverts out there….try to resist the obvious answer here)

• Blare the radio throughout the whole house and sing
• Watch crappy reality TV that no one else in the house likes
• Read romance novels
• Work from home for the PT jobs (it’s so much harder when the kids/Rambo are home)
• Nap – nothing beats a nap in the middle of the day in my huge, soft bed with no interruptions

5. Repeat question: Summarize your life in real life and in blogland this week.

• In blogland, a lot of the people I follow are working out almost daily and many have joined the Sip&Gulp water challenge. Thursday’s post was super hard for me to put out there but I’m glad I did. I can feel that Barb and her loss are still on many of our minds…

• In real life, things are fine. The entire state was shut down due to the blizzard so I got a free snow day. Now we are dealing with negative 20 degree temps instead of snow. I’ve been working out nearly daily, still journaling daily and my diet is on track…..and it all feels GOOD.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Reasons I simply cannot work out tonight.

My feet are cold...therefore I should be bathing in a bath of hot rainbow Skittles instead of running.

I just ate.  Clearly I need to let my food settle.

It is cold out.  (Hey, I didn't say the reasons were valid.)

Rambo isn't home to work out with me.  Doing it alone is boring.  (hmm...that applies in other areas as well.)

My couch is soft and warm and inviting and it keeps calling to my ass.

I don't have any sports bras that are pretty to put on.

I don't have any good shows recorded to watch.

I'm too heavy to run.  And what's the point if I can't run?  (Again, never said it was valid.)

I don't want to change my clothes.  The ones I'm in feel just great.

I just watched Barb's tribute to her husband and my eyes are swollen from crying. I can't run with swollen eyes.

If I go downstairs by the treadmill, I'll want to tan too and that's just unhealthy so I should stay up here.

If I go downstairs I have to walk by Rambo's man room and that'll make me miss him more.

5 miles the last couple of nights and no pound why bother?

I have a vagina.  ( idea what that has to do with it.)

I just don't freaking want to.  I'd rather pull out my eyelashes with a pair of tongs.


Yup...I know.  None of this matters.  Not one single line I typed matters.  What matters is my mental and physical health and getting to goal and wanting this and feeling the runner's high I crave and doing this no matter if I want to or not.

What matters is doing what I said I would do.  What matters is loving myself enough to keep promises to myself. 

What matters is I have the ability to work out and I need to not take that ability for granted when many would die to have it.

What matters is I have the time and I'm worth it and I won't regret it. 

So yes all ye of little faith who thought my chubby ass wouldn't run after that list of why I don't want tos.....

You be wrong. 

Off I go.

I've got a running high to chase....because it matters.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

I want a penis.

Boys have no brains.

Shocking revelation isn't it? 

I have a headache.  It is Rambo's fault.  He is stupid.  I love the man but he has a penis so that makes him literally think he IS Rambo.

Let me explain.

It snowed a bit here.  When I say a bit - um - I mean like a foot AND the wind is so bad that some drifts have been reported as high as 10 feet.  Every school is closed.  Every college is closed.  Many businesses are closed. 

Even mine.  We get a full 8 hours paid because literally the driveway to the business is impassible.  Most of the roads are officially closed by the Highway Department.  Motorists are stranded. 

The only way they can be rescued is via snowmobile.  Visibility is reported as ZERO.

This, my friends, is a blizzard by literal definition.

I do not set my alarm.  I know that even if my work doesn't close today, I ain't going in.  It's not worth it. 


Rambo goes to bed at 7pm.  Why you ask?  Well cuz - he's going to go to work at 3am.  He's going to give himself an extra hour and everything will be fine. 

Why again, you ask?  Um, because remember he's a man with a 4x4 Dodge Ram hillbilly truck so he can drive through hell and back without so much as a scratch? 

Never mind no one else on this Earth is out on the roads....Rambo is.  He's just cool that way.  You know, with his penis and all.

Before I go to bed, the last thing the news guy says is that the National Effing Guard has been called in to rescue stranded motorists.  Nice.

I'm up what seems like every 1/2 hour with visions of Rambo and his penis dying in the cold and snow.  Oh did I mention beyond the dangerous snow conditions - it is 20 BELOW! 

At 2am, I wake him up and say, "Please don't go.  It's not worth it."  He wraps me in his arms like that'll make my fear go away and says, "Baby, I'm going.  (I'm Rambo...I have a penis.)"  Okay I added that last part.

At 3am, he gets up.  He fixes the furnace.  It is blowing and drifting so much that people's furnaces are filling with snow hourly and moisture and snow are shutting them off.  Jesus.

He leaves. 

I swear as I lay awake.  I want to cut off his penis so maybe he'll think like a sane person.  Too late - he's gone.

I fell asleep out of exhaustion. 

It is 4:30am.  Rambo is getting into bed with me. 

What the holy hell is going on?

5 miles in and he turned around.  So much snow that a belt broke on his He-Man truck, battery died, lights dimmed - in a blizzard in 20 degrees below zero.  No plows have been through.  No cars were out.  Even a semi sat in the middle of the road - stuck.

He gets in bed and I am not kidding you....I looked at him and said, "Can I say I told you so now f*ckface?"

Wanna know what he says?

He says, "I could have made it - had the belt not broke."

Oh my Jesus Mary and Joseph. 

I want a not only can I live in Care Bear Land but I can also walk around with my head up my ass.

Wow.  Just wow.