Wednesday, December 30, 2009

For Parents Only

I loved him before. But after reading this, I'm pretty sure I luuuuuuurrrrrrv him.

Smart, insightful and he knows where all of the best places are to eat.


Whatever You Want To Do and Whatever I Want To Do

Last night I contemplated what my life would look like on December 29, 2010.

This particular thought crossed my mind because if you asked me on December 29, 2008 what I would be doing in one year, I certainly would NOT have told you that I would be living in Florida.

I would have been amused if you suggested that I would be waiting for part of my family to return from a bowl game in Orlando ~ Orlando, which is in driving distance of our home.

I fell asleep before they returned. My husband proceeded to screw with me with me because I was talking in my sleep when he came to bed.

The conversation, according to Chris:

Chris: Hey, will you move over.

Mary: No.

Chris: Just a little.

Mary: No.


Mary: I want to get out of the car.

Chris: The car?

Mary: Yeah, the car.

Chris: Where are you going.


Chris: Where are you going in the car, Mary? Where are we stopping at?

Mary: Whatever, Chris. You're being weird. I have to go to the bathroom.

I exited from the room and disappeared into the bathroom.

"You were gone a really long time," Chris said. "Like, a freakishly long time. Like you were having a hard time trying to figure things out in there," he said hoarsely.

He had all but lost his voice at the Champs Bowl last night, where his beloved Wisconsin Badgers won the some sort of title.

No, I certainly would not have offered up that scenario if you would have asked me where I would be one year ago.

Even though my sleep was disrupted, I woke up perky this morning.

I continued with the mounds and mounds of laundry I began last night. I opened up all of the blinds to let the Florida sunshine in.

Although I was a little peaked, I felt like doing something.

"I feel like not sitting at home today," I said to Chris. "I feel like doing something."

"Just give me an hour," Chris said as he played with his IPhone. I could hear drum beats, the Wisconsin fight song, cheering and obnoxiousness. I gathered that he recorded all kinds of stuff on that phone last night, and that his little Facebook world would soon be enlightened.

"After one hour, we can do whatever you want," he said, earnestly.

"You want to go to Tampa? We'll go to Tampa. You want to go to Miami," he continued. "We'll go to Miami. Whatever you want to do," he added, "just as long as you pay for gas."

Earlier this morning, I dumped a boatload of Calvin's clothing into a pile in his dresser-less room. I thought that picking up the dresser that my parents purchased for him at an after-Christmas sale would be a wisely super-fantastic idea.

Calvin would return home to a neat, organized room. I suggested this to Chris.

"I don't feel like doing that today," he said.

What about the Miami and/Tampa/"whatever I wanted to do" suggestions. I inquired, and he shrugged.

Apparently "whatever I wanted to do" didn't exactly include "whatever I wanted to do." We'll have to wait for another day to retrieve the dressers.

Yet the possibilities are endless and the day stretches out in front of me.

I have my two delightful children with me (the other will join us on Saturday), my husband is on vacation this week and I still have gas money available.

The day is perfect and there are beautiful things to discover within driving distance of our home. And we have a Perkins gift certificate, compliments of my parents.

Oh, the possibilities.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

DJ Lance and Adam Richman

I'm sort of judgmental.

All right, I said it: I judge people.

The other day, when my Hungarian friend was cutting my slob of a dog's hair, she talked a lot about how she enjoyed getting to know new people.

"Zum people, zey look at people's outzides and zay to zemzelves, 'Zey look zis way, or zat way. I don't want to get to know zem.' Zey make judgements about people by how zey look on the outside. I want to talk to and get to know everyone," she said.

I nodded and pretended to be tracking.

I made soft grunts and gave her appropriately disgusted looks. As in "how could someone do that? Judge someone on how they look? Shesh. What a judgemental a**hole. I would never do such a thing!"

But I do.

Kellie Pickler was on "Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader." This is what happened.

I understand if you don't want to click on the link so I'll summarize. It went something like this:

Jeff Foxworthy: Budapest is the capital of what nation in Europe?

Kellie Pickler: This might be a stupid question? But I thought Europe was a country. Buddhist? Buddha...pest? I've never even heard of that. I know they speak French there. I wanna French a country? I don't know what I'm doin.'

Am I judgmental about this? Of course I am.

What an idiot. I might not have known that Malta is a country before four months ago, but I know that Budapest is the capital of Hungary, thank you to Elizabeth Kostova's "The Historian" and my third grade social studies teacher.

And take for instance, these pictures from I judge them. It is easy to do. The woman with the pink hotpants and the fishnet pantyhose, but the size 18 ass? Hooker.

The person who drew this?

This person might be fun to have a drink or attend a Star Wars convention with. This person could make me a Venti Coffee Light Frappucino while watching and appreciating Return of the Jedi.

What more could I ask for?

I once watched headlines about toddlers escaping their homes and eating the neighbor's stash of Twinkies without their mother's knowledge.

"Who are these people," I would think to myself. "How could they not know where their kids were for every single second of the day? What were they doing, taking a nap?

Today, I laid on my couch. My head was splitting (blood pressure is up again) and noticed the quietness around me. I investigated.

I found Maggie with a pencil, drawing on our unpainted, white walls.

Did I mention I also once judged people who would say "I had to buy special paint to cover up the coloring little Jeb did on our walls! That little stinker."

"What a fricking brat," I would say to myself. "And where were you, you sad excuse for a parent?"

"Surely you were not suffering a high blood pressure induced headache and waiting for your Ibuprofen 800 to kick in on the couch, watching a Man Vs. Food marathon. Surely, not."

Alas, I thought of my judgments as I sat with my Mr. Clean Magic Eraser, scrubbing the wall free of Maggie's modern wall art. I saw an eye, lips and the outline of a tree. It could have been the throbbing headache and the pulsing in my left eye.

I didn't give her too much crap about it, though. Instead, I gave her a piece of paper and collapsed on the couch, yet again.

I thought she might pay more attention to DJ Lance as opposed to Adam Richman.

So, I listened to the importance of "not biting your friends," and "you can't always getting what you want."

It hurt my head a little bit more, but I was able to shut my eyes for a moment and find some relief.

I took solace in knowing that she can't unlock doors quite yet, and Yo Gabba Gabba holds some freakishly hypnotic effect on her and she won't move (except to dance) when it is on.

Go ahead. Let them judge.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Happiness and The Size of Your Ass

I found this "Dress Size Factor" graph recently.

Apparently, I am right on the verge of being very happy. If only I would work at it with a tad more diligence than I am doing right now. Margaritas and burritos in the middle of the afternoon just aren't going to cut it, I'm afraid (but they were so GOOD!).

Granted, this is in reference to UK sizes so the numbers are a bit skewed. I discovered this when I ordered from Boden recently. So...the size UK 14 is actually referring to the US 12.

Alas, I will just take this chart and not think too much about size conversions.

I will do a little rejoicing in the fact that skinny little beeyotches (i.e. size 6's) aren't that happy, possibly because they are hungry.


Friday, December 18, 2009

Dog Grooming and Neglectful Pet Ownership

Sven the Cairn Terrier got a free haircut today.

The haircut required minimal effort on my part. Specifically, I had to hold him still while my rear-end was parked in a lawn chair.

It started yesterday. We took him for a walk to check on the progress of our new home.

(This is what it looked like, by the way.)

Sven isn't walked regularly. I completely realize this is neglectful pet owner behavior and appropriately hang my head in shame.

::::Hangs head in shame::::

When he IS walked, sometimes the "walking" motion causes him to crap a lot. He must have been really backed up because in one block, he pooped five times.

Sven is also not regularly groomed. It has been six months since he has gotten his hair cut.

To say he was shaggy was a huge understatement.

As you can imagine, he was a sad sight when we encountered our Hungarian friend at the end of the block.

She owns a West Highland Terrier has an affinity to Cairns ~ kissing cousins of the Westies.

He managed to look particularly pathetic, giving her a doleful look as he squatted for the umpteenth time in front of her and dribbled a nugget of diarrhea down his ungroomed, hairy butt.

We promptly received a call the next morning.

"I have beeeen theenking about Zvehhhn," said the voice on the other end. "He haz to be zo hot and uncomfortable. Pleeez let me come over and groom him."

Normally, we would say no but she seemed to put a lot of thought into it. She had discussed the potential of highly offending us with her neighbor from Boston.

Meg, the Bostonian, is a bad ass and steps in front of speeding "cahs" and smacks the trunks. She screams, "What's wrong with you!? Slow down, there ah kids playing out he-ahh,"

She is also apparently better versed in potentially offensive requests. Some individuals might take offense in one offering to come groom their slob of a dog.

I didn't mind at all. I realize when I need help.

She had a plan as she usually seems to. She washes her Westie's face daily, so I am sure Sven's state of affairs was acutely disturbing to her.

She told me she would be at our house in fifteen minutes. There was a knock at our door in seven.

She worked diligently, explaining to me that "his skkeeen, iz zo zensitive. Zee? Iz peenk," and that it was good that she was taking care of the mats on his hair. She spent a lot of time on his ass. "Oooo, gooood! I can zee his reectum now," she said with glee.

Sven emerged a new dog. Literally. He appears to be a third of his pre-groomed size. I was able to bath him easily in the boys' bathroom (after I cleaned the hair from the clogged drain because the fourteen year old boy decided to shave his upper thighs. And why the hell would he not? It is SUCH a normal thing to do. Really.)

Sven slept the entire day, wiped out from the anxiety of the hour and a half marathon amateur grooming experience as well as the subsequent bath.

Maggie could hardly contain herself when she woke up from her nap and was greeted by the clipped, clean Sven.

She squealed and followed him around for a good thirty minutes, exclaiming, pointing and patting. I am not sure what she was saying, but I'm sure it was positive.

It put her in a good mood for the rest of the day which, in turn, made my day easier. There was no malcontent-type behavior and she was unusually agreeable.

Sven's free haircut was a win in so many ways.

Thanks, Erika. :)


Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Thoughts and Quests

I am currently in the middle of filling out a "secret sister" form for church. I have been stuck for days on the "hobbies/interests" question.

I don't have any hobbies and I don't have time for interests. The unfortunate soul who receives my name as secret sister won't have the advantage of easily refering to my list for gift ideas.

I currently feel that I can barely maintain my household. I am actually sort of worried that having a "secret sister" will wig me out a little bit. I know how I am with remembering people's birthdays, anniversaries, etc. I suck.

My secret sister is doomed

Putting aside the hobbies/interest mind-bender for a moment, I thought I would jot a few thoughts down.

1.) Most of my day revolves around a screaming toddler. It is consumed with trying to figure out what exactly I can do to placate her.

I often wonder what created such a malcontent, but I can't think of anything specific. Chris thinks she is reacting to the amount of stress I exude; I think it might just be her personality ~ demanding, loud, high strung.

2.) Even though I don't think that I consume the amount of calories it would take to attain and maintain my current weight, I must. Otherwise, the weight would be falling off.

I can run my little heart out for miles and miles every day and nothing will happen if I don't stop putting loads of delightful crunchy things on top of my salads and shoving chips into my mouth before bedtime.

3.) It doesn't matter if I measure every single day. I probably won't see a change in my waist/hip size. Particularly when I eat chips at bedtime and load my salads with yummy crunchy things.

4.) On a related note, my weight. Refer to #3 and replace "measure" with "weigh."

5.) The refrigerator I want for our new house will inevitably cost 2,500.00, or more. There are cheaper alternatives, of course, but my eye will go to the one that is the prettiest, most tricked out, most expensive.

6.) Like the refrigerator, I am pretty sure that the car w/ third row seat that I want will most likely be a Mercedes.

7.) I visualize shaking my 8 year old until his teeth rattle out of frustration every day. It makes me feel better, for a moment, to visualize this because I know I will never do it.

8.) Angelina Jolie is a skinny little bitch and is probably starving. Our visit to the Potter's wax museum hit this one home.

And Brad Pitt is shorter than I am and looks like a Backstreet Boy. Perhaps it is the artist's interpretation of Brad Pitt but from what I understand, the wax sculptures are fairly accurate.

9.) No matter what I do or how hard I try to control/manage everything, I will inevitably run out of spending money (and toilet paper) before our next paycheck.

There will be flipping out at any suggestion my husband makes to "go somewhere" or "get something to eat." I will shriek, "We can't do ANYTHING, we have no MONEY for GAS!!!"

10.) Dishes are my least favorite chore and there is usually a sink full of them on any given moment during the day.

And normally, I need to watch an episode of "Hoarders" to get me motivated to mop the floor.

I'm deathly afraid of ending up like some of these people ~ harnessed to the medical toilet in the middle of the kitchen, snoozing amongst the filth of adult diapers. All the while flesh eating bugs are eating away at my toes (recent episode. One that has to be seen to be believed).

I have a feeling that the beginning of a slippery slope slide towards doom is easier than one might think. I have found this out with my weight issue.

"Oh, I'll just eat the pint of Cherry Garcia," I said. And, "Sure, just give me another helping of that delightful spaghetti."

The next thing I knew, I was shopping in the big momma department and was wheezing when I climbed a flight of stairs. Fat happened so quickly, and I can only assume that filth and flesh eating bugs in one's house can happen very quickly, also.

I better get back to filling out my secret sister form. If anyone has some ideas of hobbies that might accrue some interesting gifts, feel free to advise me in the comments below.

Friday, December 4, 2009

Vermin and Decomposition

My husband told me today that I seem really tense.

Actually, I had been feeling pretty good lately so this observation came as a bit of a surprise.

Although I skipped the past two days for various reasons, baby M and I have gotten into a new routine of daily jogs.

Naps are my barometer of personal "funks." I have only taken one nap in the past six weeks ~ it was today and it was only because it was dark and raining. And cold.

I walked Wesley out to the bus stop this morning in a t-shirt with holes in the armpits, drawstring shorts and flip flops. Sexy practically oozed off of me, let me tell YOU.

The cold air hit me as I walked outside but I was too lazy to walk back inside and get a jacket.

Half way to the bus stop I realized that this was a bit of a mistake. My blood has thinned out and 50 degrees now is surprisingly bone chilling. The family in Minnesota doesn't like to hear this, however, and I am reminded that it has already snowed up there.

The children who have been residents of Florida for longer than six months were bundled up in winter coats. Mine was speeding around on his scooter, pockets bulging with Bakugan balls, in camouflage shorts and an Aruba t-shirt. The Swedish Viking blood runs deep in this one.

The chill creeped into my bones and stayed there. It was a chill that wouldn't go away and clung to me like a wet rag.

I decided to curl up in my soft, warm flannel sheets and down comforter when the baby went down for a nap.

It took a little bit of courage to hang out in my room today. This is because there is a very large, very dead opossum directly outside my bedroom window.

Technically, I know that it can't hurt anything since it is already dead. It is actually just the creeper factor, mostly, because seriously ~ have you ever taken a good look at an opossum? Ew.

I nearly wet myself (it doesn't take much these days: a sneeze, a hearty cough, a good scare) when I opened the blinds this morning and saw it lying there.

I screamed.


He was annoyed.

I was interrupting his dork online game in which he discusses strategies and civilization building techniques with pocked faced teenagers in Europe and Australia.

"Do you think it's dead," he asked after he had gasped a little bit. He would have been less surprised, I think, to see a gator since our backyard is a freshwater canal.

I looked at the legs, angled up a little in apparent rigor mortis, and the open, cloudy eyes. It looked pretty dead to me.

"Maybe it is just playing opossum, like they say? You know, like when someone 'plays opossum?' Let's see if it goes away," he suggested, then walked off.

That would have been too easy; alas, it did not go away.

It is currently being rained on and decomposing outside the bedroom window. I shudder at what kind of wicked vermin it will attract after the sun goes down. It is enough to keep me awake with the creepy crawlies.

I suppose it is good thing that I took a nap today just in case my sleep is interrupted with thoughts of possums, dead animals and decomposition occurring six feet from me.

Excuse me while I go take a pill.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Beginnings 3

Our lot is cleared! They were able to save a Palmetto in the back yard, yay! The surveyor was out today doing whatever a surveyor and foundation soon to come!

Trials and Blessings

I was stumbling through blogs as I ate my daily salad (I would have preferred a Big Mac).

I came across
one that touched me.

We have had infertility issues in our immediate family, and although I can't say I have personally experienced this, I have seen the pain that the difficulty in conceiving can cause.

It angers me that so many wonderful, loving people pray faithfully that they will be blessed with the PRIVILEGE to be parents. In the meantime others are aborting, abusing and neglecting their own babies/children.

I needed this couple's trials today to keep my blessings in perspective.

My 19-month is calling me from her crib and instead of grumbling that she only slept long enough for me to barely finish my lunch, I'm going to pick her up and give her a big hug and kiss.

I'll take a moment to smell her sweet scent and shower her with my love and attention. I'll make certain that she knows, beyond a doubt, that she is my blonde-haired, blue eyed, feisty gift from God.