Toilets, German Shepherds and 3 Year Olds.

I woke up this morning with the heat blowing on my face.

The outside temperature had hit somewhere around 45 and my husband's  Florida blood couldn't bear the cold.

I also felt a wet spot by my shoulder and smelled urine.  There was a foot in my face.

Maggie, 3, regularly wanders into our bedroom at night.   She doesn't regularly leak on our bed.

I longed to stay in bed longer,  but the circumstances surrounding me were not favorable.  

Maggie has had some rough spots and has presented some interesting challenges to us.   I.e.:  how to clean her messes up.

We have moved past the poop smearing, thank GAWD.  Everyone is pretty much potty trained and there are no more turds in the washing machine.

(I just want to give out a shout out to the LORD JESUS CHRIST for having a mostly potty trained 3  year old.  I was dealing with that s**t, literally, far into the 4's with the boys.)

She found a inked dinosaur stamp somewhere upstairs last week.

She came down with blue hands and face and told me she had "decorated."  Um, more like defaced three walls, the window sill and the flat screen t.v.

Two days ago, she flushed an apple down the toilet.  Except the apple is stuck somewhere out of reach to us.  We hope that it will soon decompose without to many creepy crawlies who show up to help in the decomposition process.

A lot of great ideas were presented to us on Facebook to take care of this apple problem, but so close to our impending vacation, Chris and I just can't gather the strength to take a toilet apart or call a plumber.

Instead, I had Wesley make a sign.  He decorated it nicely and taped it on the toilet.  It says "ABSOLUTELY DO NOT USE THIS TOILET" in neat, bubbled letters.  He also drew pictures of a toilet and a plunger that were strikingly similar to the real things.

We have had an interesting, stressful few months in our house.   I can only believe that the stress will get better.  It MUST.

Our German Shepherd, Thora, is the source of a lot of our angst.

Both Maggie and Thora are growing up, though.


And I have high hopes for both of them to be ROCK STARS.  

Soon.

I have wondered if we are cut out for German Shepherd ownership about ten thousand times since July.

She is now six months old and doesn't listen to us.    When we give her a command, I SWEAR the bitch MOCKS us.

Stares at us.  Like this.

We say "come," and she sits down and stares.    I take this as a puppy equivalent of a "screw you."

I have read that she is testing us and we need to be consistent with her.  I am rarely consistent with anything, except with my choice of boxed wines.

It is wearing on me having a staring contest with a six month old puppy EVERY time I want her to follow a command.

Two days ago, I had enough of her.   I grabbed her by the scruff, flipped her on her back and held her down on her back for a minute, hollering "I'M THE ALPHA FEMALE!  I'M THE ALPHA!  I'M THE ALPHA!"

Ragnar is Thora's boy toy.  

Anyone who has spent any time with German Shepherds knows that the majority of their communication consists of  whines and cries.  

On her back, Thora didn't just whine, she screamed.   I know she wasn't in pain, she was just really pissed off at me.

I would hate for anyone to driven by and seen me "losing my crap"; however, since we live on a busy-ish road, I can't rule out the possibility.

Both of us were scratched and fought for  dominance.  It just HAPPENED that this occurred outside in the back yard in dirt and mud.  I came inside completely covered in dirt from my face to my toes.

Things are going to change in our house this year.  I'm going to be healthier, happier and dammit....we are all going to get along.

I'm going to be Alpha female.

With the help of my iron pills (I have been anemic for who knows how long...) and my vitamin B12 shots (I was crazy deficient in B-12) I will be superwoman.  I just know it.

And since we canceled our cable service, we are going be more creative.  As in, creative about how to watch Real Housewives shows via the internet.

 We are going to talk to each other about our feelings.

We received a beautiful piano lately and we moved the television upstairs.  We have a music room.  There will be pretty much only  music playing during the day, thanks to 8tracks.com and Pandora.

There will be a peace in our house, dagnabbit, even if there will be fisticuffs for me to achieve it.

It's An Accountability Thing

I am  a walking health disaster.   It's embarrassing.

I feel like those people on the show Hoarders, but the "house" is my body.  And the mess that I have been trying to keep hidden for so long has started to spill out and be noticable to everyone else around me.  

If I were on the show for my house, at this point, the smell of putrifying garbage would be noticeable and the health department would be called.  

But people don't generally tell other people that they are fat.   Unless that person is a doctor or a spouse who is trying to be "helpful."  

Most of the time, however, it is not helpful because the fat person already knows that they are fat.   Heavy people are fighting their own battles internally ~ guilt, addiction, self-control battles, shame ~  and to have the outward manifestations of their battles pointed out causes more anxiety on top of what she is already experiencing. 

I saw an acupuncturist this week.   I have realized, however, I can only have so many things done TO me before I need to do things to myself.   

I have been trying to incorporate at least 20 minute walks into my daily routine.  

But... this 20 minute walk thing is really unnerving to me because it is SO far from where I have been.  

I have been a runner, and the 20 minute walk thing is SO UNBELIEVABLY lame.  

Like an ass, I tried to walk with no socks on a few days ago, and it created a blister on the back of my heel that now makes it impossible for me to wear real shoes, even WITH bandages and socks.   Now I am hobbling like a cripple, let alone trying to walk a mile.   

Again, so LAME.  

I am seeing a new doctor next week.  He is doctor of osteopath, and he does adjustments.   He is an hour away; I am willing to drive to see a good doctor.    

I am  looking forward to it....as if all of my problems ~ blood pressure, addictions, depression, could be solved by a spinal manipulation.  

I am also dreading it at the same time.... because I have to see a new doctor who is probably going to be like, "What the HELL is up with your weight?"  

I want to say "I don't understand what is happening to me, what is happening to my metabolism, my body and my mind have gone absolutely haywire."  

My ultimate goal is to be off all of my medication.  I think that a D.O. will get that more than my regular M.D.   

I recently watched Forks Over Knives and I feel that it is possible with diet.    I have "The China Study" coming to me in the mail.  

I tried to eat a meat free diet yesterday, with beans, etc.  I finally caved at about 9pm and inhaled several chicken tenderloins.    I think back with clarity ~ as one does, always, in hindsight:  I should have just gone to bed.  

I wanted to write this because this is definitely my low.   

I want to remember this week ~ put it out there and make my struggle public.

It's an accountablity thing.  

Attacks on Children and Decency

I feel like the entire world is going crazy.

No.

She's 17.   Hell no. 

 If the ads are like this NOW, I am horrified to think about what they will be when Maggie, my 3 year old, really starts paying attention to clothing ads.

I think "Seventeen" will be permanently banned from my house.

There are 6 & 7 year old girls singing along to this song in their cars all across America.  I admit, it's catchy.  But I have started turning it off because the lyrics are disgusting.  

S&M Lyrics:  Rihanna
Na na naCome onNa na naCome onNa na na na naCome onNa na naCome on, come on, come on
Feels so good being bad (Oh oh oh oh oh)There's no way I'm turning back (Oh oh oh oh oh)Now the pain is my pleasure 'cause nothing could measure (Oh oh oh oh oh)
Love is great, love is fine (Oh oh oh oh oh)Out the box, outta line (Oh oh oh oh oh)The affliction of the feeling leaves me wanting more (Oh oh oh oh oh)
'Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at itSex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of itSticks and stones may break my bonesBut chains and whips excite me
'Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at itSex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of itSticks and stones may break my bonesBut chains and whips excite me
Na na naCome on, come on, come onI like it-like itCome on, come on, come onI like it-like itCome on, come on, come onI like it-like it (Na na na)Come on, come on, come onI like it-like it

S-S-S & M-M-MS-S-S & M-M-MS-S-S & M-M-MS-S-S & M-M-M 

This is who little girls look up to.  (She is HORRIBLE in concert, I have heard.)

I'm never letting my boys go into a bathroom by themselves ever again.  Ever.  Ever, ever EVER.

I am ready to lock my family up and never let them out of the house again.

I feel like decency and family values are under attack.

I have these little peas in my pod and I don't want any of this to reach them or affect them, but I know it will.  It already has.

All I can do is pray for my own children, pray that God will keep them safe and that we make the best choices in life for them.

  _____________________________________________________

Statistics regarding teen sexual abuse

While female teenagers are more likely to be sexually abused that male teenagers, cultural, racial and economic factors do not seem to have an effect on the likelihood of becoming a victim of teen sexual abuse. Here are some teen sexual abuse statistics: 

• 1 in 4 girls (25%) are sexually abused by the age of 18. 
• 1 in 6 boys (17%) are sexually abused by the age of 18. 
• Most teen sexual abuse victims (7 in 10, or 70%) know their abuser. It is generally a family member, or someone close to the family. 
• Of female Americans who are raped, 54 percent of them experience this type of sexual abuse for the first time before they are 18. 
• A victim of one incident of teen sexual abuse is likely to experience further sexual abuse. 
• Teenagers account for 51% of all reported sexual abuse 
• Teenagers between the ages of 16 and 19 are 3.5 times more likely than the general public to be victims of sexual abuse. 
• 69% of the incidences of teen sexual abuse occur in a residence. 
• 23% of all sexual offenders are under the age of 18 
• Female victims of teen sexual abuse while in grades 9 through 12 are more likely than others to experience eating disorders, suicidal behavior, pregnancy and risky sexual behaviors.

• A report of child abuse is made every ten seconds
• *More than five children die every day as a result of child abuse.² 
• Approximately 80% of children that die from abuse are under the age of 4. ¹
• It is estimated that between 50-60% of child fatalities due to maltreatment are not recorded as such on death certificates. ³
• More than 90% of juvenile sexual abuse victims know their perpetrator in some way. ⁴
• Child abuse occurs at every socioeconomic level, across ethnic and cultural lines, within all religions and at all levels of education.
• About 30% of abused and neglected children will later abuse their own children, continuing the horrible cycle of abuse. ⁵
• About 80% of 21 year olds that were abused as children met criteria for at least one psychological disorder. ⁵
• The estimated annual cost of child abuse and neglect in the United States for 2007 is $104 billion. ⁶

http://www.childhelp.org/pages/statistics

Hindsight is 20/20

So, perhaps it wasn't the WISEST idea to get another dog when the one we have is out of control.  

But we were completely enthralled and hence, snookered, by the adorable litter of German Shepherd puppies that smelled as sweet as a newborn baby.

And to be honest,  we weren't really 100% aware that the dog we already owned was out of control, either.  

We were too distracted by the destructive three year old who reminds me of the Tasmanian Devil.

Ragnar's rotten behavior was pointed out by the trainer we hired to come and help us "train" our new German Shepherd puppy, Thora.  

This is Thora

The trainer had a litany of woes he bestowed upon us.

Because of the bad fortune we endured during his three visits to our house to "train our dogs," we ended the training sessions early.  Because here is how it all went down:

• He missed the initial consultation  by an entire hour.    During his visit,  Maggie managed to dump out 1/3 of a gallon of paint on the bathroom floor and track footprints on the carpet and leave handprints on walls and paintings all over the second floor of our house.  

• Although I believe that our family would be incredibly difficult to forget after this, indeed he did.  The second training session was a no-show.  Our existence was off the radar and he didn't even realized that he had missed it until the next day.    

• #3.  He showed up on time and it was just Maggie and me.   When I thought she was quietly watching Caillou (the little turd himself; I hate that show) she was smearing the contents  underwear all over our bedroom wall.   

I am big into "signs" and I believe that all of these occurrences were the sign to find another trainer, lest someone burn the house down on his fourth through eighth training sessions.  

He also pointed out our shabby furniture (asked if the dogs had done it).    No, he wasn't coming back.

I believe that having a puppy is a lot like having a newborn in that you forget how difficult it is to actually have one in your house until you get it home and then listen to it squeal all night long.  

German Shepherds are reportedly smart dogs, but I am not sold on this.   

She whines quite often about nothing and is still pissing in the house.  Not as frequently as in the beginning, but more than any other puppy we have ever owned.  

She is still sneaking to a preferred corner in my bedroom and crapping on the floor.  She has to be watched like a hawk because she has showed a deference to being able to swipe food out of the garbage.   

She has chewed up an acoustic guitar pick-up, an Apple laptop charger, and the appendages off of various toys and action figures that were unfortunate enough to be left in her wake.  

And did I mention that we introduced an exchange student into the mix?

I mostly think he believes that we are out of our minds.   He's from Spain and likes Target and Lady Gaga a lot.  

Because I am trying to create a facade of a bit of normality for him (and for the fam, of COURSE), I have been stellar in making dinner every night.  Which has caused me to add a little more poundage.   Because HELLOOOOO seconds, and sometimes thirds.      

I'm going to have to get cracking with the exercise and diet, because this was me last weekend.  In the hospital with chest pains.  

This was at 2 a.m., mind you. 

I honestly thought that they would look at me and send me home.  But no.  They had me stay.   

Although I was hooked up to machines that monitored every little blip of my body and had to pee in a bedside toilet, I became very excited about the food that was brought to me.  IN MY ROOM!  IN MY BED!  I could eat in bed and not be hassled about it by Chris.  It was pretty fantastic.  

I was sent home, however, to the dogs.  Who have new delights that include ~ but are not limited to ~ digging holes in my flowers and ignoring me when I call them.   

And home to the children.  Who are crazy and funny and disgusting all at the same time....as they stick their fingers up their noses and then stick them up their noses before I get a chance to stop them.  

But how can you resist Batgirl?  And a girl who plays super hero instead of Barbies.  And who hits hard and plays rough.  And who is teaching Thora, the German Shepherd, true tolerance.  

I love this family.

Kate Plus Pfffffffffffffttttttttttttt........

Awwww.  

I don't know if I just heard a collective sigh of relief or sadness, but the series that began with the birth of the Gosselins' sextuplets in 2004 was given the axe by TLC.  

I never cared for the show, because ~ much like Supernanny ~ I can't handle the kids' screaming and crying.   It hits too close to home and I get a twitch.  

Also, sometimes Kate reminds me of the rag I most of the time sometimes can be.  

And she sort of terrifies me.  

Me no likey.  

And all those kids.  Oy.

I only tuned in for that short time to watch the Jon debacle.  

Will he stay in the house?  Will he bring his sleazy girlfriends on the show?  Will Kate emasculate him on the show again?   Can it be any more possible to feel sorry for someone and cheer for him at the same time?  Can he look any more pathetic?

Because I like to watch  a good train wreck.   

I would probably participate in one if I could, but since I am now in my late 30's, I really don't particpate in train wrecks personally any more.  

This is pretty merciful, I guess, because when I watch Housewives of New Jersey it seems to me that those ladies' lives look pretty exhausting.  

And at this point in my life, I'm  a low energy person.     

But I like to WATCH other people's drama.  Something about it is deliciously satisfying.  

Our family is  creating its own drama, though.  (At least according to my mother.)  

We got a German Shepherd puppy, in addition to our 1 year old dog, Ragnar.  We named her Thora.   She's 8 weeks old. 

My husband put together a playset in three days.  He's sort of like Superman.   Because I saw how many pieces of wood that went into the "before."   

We are getting a fence to enclose the area around this area this week.   So the dogs and children can frolick.  Can't you just see it?   (Minus the dog turds?)

Oh, and we are also considering hosting an exchange student.  

Because why the heck not?    

  

The 10 Year Old Vogue Model...And How Gross I Think This Is

I know the fashion industry sometimes has so very little sense, but this really seals it.

These are some of the photos of a spread in French Vogue earlier this year.   The model is 10 years old.

As a mother of a little girl, this makes me so freaking ill.

I dread those days that I know inevitably will come when creepers will eye Maggie inappropriately...and a couple of times ~perhaps it has been the paranoid mom in me ~ I feel as it may have happened already.

There are sick people out there.  A little bit of my heart dies at the news reports of child pornography rings that are discovered around the country...and it makes me WANT TO BARF that some of those involved have jobs like teachers or  caregivers.

Jaycee Dugard, anyone?  Elizabeth Smart?  Does everyone have such short memories?  Go to  the BandBackTogether.com  and read some of the stories of women who have been affected by sexual abuse.

Why can't kids be kids?  Why do they have to be rushed to grow up?  The world is a big, bad place.   This girl should be catching bugs, bedazzling crap and playing with puppies.  NOT POSING TOPLESS!

I don't think this is right.  I think it is incredibly "off" and the girl's best interests aren't at heart.


Didn't anyone watch "Run, Baby, Run?"

Yuck.

Is it Wordless Wednesday Already?

Teen TRX and Moaners at the Gym

We signed my 16 year old up for TRX this summer.

It was a class offered at our gym and is exclusively for teens.  It meets Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays in the afternoons.

I figured this would serve a couple purposes.  First,  it would get him out of the stink chair he has claimed in front of the  XBOX.

Second,  I thought it would keep him in shape over the summer.  For those of you who have done TRX workouts know they can about kill you if you let them.

Here is an overview video of TRX.  These bitches ladies make it look crazy easy.    It's hard freaking work.

As I was looking for a video to share with you, I found several videos from Mr. Universe, 2009, who does some uber sick moves with the TRX straps to make him look like the Incredible Hulk.

I personally do not find this look attractive.  Personally, I like men who are subtlety muscled.  The ripped look makes me think "seedy" and "oily."   But if you look up "Mr. Universe 2009 TRX," on YouTube, you can see what this workout will make of you if you take it to the extreme.

Today when I dropped him off at TRX, I decided to stay.

I hadn't exercised today and my dinner last night of hushpuppies, chicken nuggets and shame still sat in my belly from last night.

Oh yea, as well as my lunch from Taco Hell, which BY THE WAY which still rumbled like a thundercloud, releasing gaseous waste products that begged to be expelled from my ass.

Not the best idea to go to the gym and get on the treadmill.

I hopped on the treadmill with the best of intentions and since the cardio room was practically empty, I burped and eek out a couple of unladylike farts.  

I was feeling miserable, but I had an entire 50 minutes to kill while Cal was in class, and there was NO WAY I was getting in my car and going home.  Three miles was my goal.  But I was starting to get a stomach ache, and I was starting to feel like there was something more substantive coming behind the toots.

Then a groaner hopped on the treadmill next to me.  I looked around the room and there were NO MORE machines being used.  She got on the one DIRECTLY next to me.  WHY?  Seriously?  I know there are urinal rules;  shouldn't there be treadmill rules too?

The treadmill next to me was a crappy one.  Perhaps she wanted to watch the show on the television in front of it.  I don't know.  What I DID know was that she was in my space and HER weird noises were rudely moving in on MY weird noises.

She was cramping my style.

And I was having serious issues.  I was at about 1.25 and I was hurting, yo.

My shirt was riding up.  I had a wedgie.  I couldn't hold my belly in like I usually do to give the illusion a smaller waistline.

No.

Everything was hanging out and I didn't have the wear-withall to hold myself together.  And she was directly next to me, moaning...and one time said "Oh, YEAAAAAA."

What the frick was this?  The honeymoon  suite?

A mile an a half was all I could take.  I pushed the emergency stop, gathered my belongings and hustled quickly to the elevator.

Yes, my gym has an elevator.  AND stairs.  But I would have to walk past the front desk to get to the stairs.  And there was a desperate look to me.

I took the elevator up to the more private bathrooms which were, mercifully, unoccupied.

I gathered my belongings again, took the elevator back down ~ feeling like a NEW WOMAN, I cannot lie ~ and dropped my belongings next to the moaner.  I hopped back on and did another 1.5....which met my goal of 3 miles.

It was a rough 3 miles.  A little painful.  I won't eat pintos and cheese and a burrito supreme again before I try to jog again, I think.

Just a little life lesson that I will file away for a rainy day.

Wordless Wednesday (Twisted Comics)

300 Ponies and Pokemon by Flick-the-Thief

Fire and Ice Cream by Glen Brogan

The Situation Room, Marvel Style

The Super Kiss by Daniel Irizarri Oquendo

Sleeping Naked on Frog Toilets. And Vonnegut.

My daughter is currently sleeping naked on her toddler toilet.   


Her toddler toilet is a frog, and it is placed in front of our regular toilet in our bathroom.  Her head is resting on the toilet seat in front of her.   


I would take a picture of this, but since she dropped my IPhone in the toilet about an hour ago, I am not able to do so.   


And I am wondering how other mothers do this.  Like the Duggars.  Extreme example, I know...but I'm totally serious.  Or people with three toddlers at once.  


I have a friend with triplets.  How did she do it without drowning herself?   


I losing my marbles...trying to be patient all the time.  Because being patient is definitely not in my nature.   


It takes every little thread of effort I have within me sometimes to even be NICE.   I don't think of myself as a particularly nice person.


The poop smears and crying is the threshold at which I am about to jump and fall...fall...fall...  I'm cracking.  


I'm reading Kurt Vonnegut books, and he is starting to make sense ~ he may be brilliant even.  Why yes....mirrors could be  "leaks."  Time travel certainly could be possible....why not?


I've been out in public lately with eyebrows done in purple eyeshadow. I thought it was brown.  No one said anything. 


I made it through most of the day with one dangly earring.    No one said anything.


I forgot to put deodorant on one armpit yesterday.  I was in Target and I smelled this horrendous stench and I became really angry.  


Body odor makes me really angry...like crazy angry.  Because it is so avoidable.  I mean, MIND YOUR FUNK, people.  Then...I smelled my right armpit and realized the stench was coming from ME.  ME!!  I got my dinner items and hustled home quickly. 


I wanted to go to Zumba this morning,  but I have a kid sleeping on the toilet.    


And as she fell asleep, apparently, she dropped my IPhone in the toilet.  

              "I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. 

              Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center." 

Kurt Vonnegut

  

Prey and Zumba

Everyone left the room about a half hour ago and I just realized that Yo Gabba Gabba is still on.  Such is my life these days.  

I'm trying to gather the strength to shower.  I returned a while ago from the gym, where I did a horrendously embarrassing, floppy hour of Zumba.  I'm waiting to air dry.

We need to go out and buy a mouse for Wes's ball python.

This ball python eats live mice...in case you are wondering.  If you buy your snake from a place like "politically correct" store like Petsmart, it will eat frozen mice.   And apparently, if you tell them that you are buying a mouse from them with the intention of feeding it to a snake, they may refuse to sell it to you.   Because doing so is not humane.

But I don't understand...what about the freezing part?  I think death by  freezing would sort of suck, too.  Whatever.

However, this snake does not eat frozen mice.  

The mice cost about 1.75, which is pretty cheap to feed a pet.

When we buy them, they put them in a little box with plastic film lining and small holes in the top for air  vents.

Last week's mouse was uber crafty and mostly chewed through the box by the time we got home.

I didn't notice that it was doing this.  **I** thought that it was trying to get out through the air vents, so I ordered Calvin to put a book on top of the vents as he held the box in his lap.

Little did he know...the little shiester was chewing his way out the bottom.   Can you IMAGINE having a loose mouse in the car as you are driving?  I cannot. ~  I would die, I think.

Horrible creatures, although they ARE very cute and I feel a tiny bit badly about feeding it to Bucky.  But not this guy....I practically threw him in the snake's cage.

I started Zumba a couple of weeks ago.   The only thing that I have really lost are the baggy t-shirts.  I hate looking like the newbie in the class...and even the fatties are wearing tank tops.  So...a tank top it is.

I've also started logging on to MyFitnessPal.com.  I did WeightWatchers.com for about a week and I had so many error messages that I canceled.  And MyFitnessPal is free.   I like free.  And it is sort of like Facebook;  I'm all over that.  You can add friends, and comment on people's stuff.  It's up my alley.

Anywho, to the shower I go because a mouse I have to get.  Don't be so jealous.  You know you want a ball python that eats live mice, too.