Famous Quotes

Being a wife and mother (as so many of us are)

I have heard myself say interesting things:

Lauren, pick the wedgie out of your butt for goodness sakes. If you're so hungry that your butt is eating your underwear, grab an apple.

Connor, Honey, Sweetie, Baby, could you save the whole peeing all over a parent thing for Daddy?

No Lauren, a poncho, a sweater and a pair of shorts with sandals doesn't match.

(Talking to my brother when Lauren is a month old) It's hard to believe that one day, this beautiful person is going to call me a bitch.

No honey, that's not a poop stain on my underwear.

What was that sweetie? Oh, it's because Mommy is a republican. Can you say RE-PUB-LI-CAN?

Charles (using last name)if you slap me on the ass and tell me "good game" one more time....we're going to have a problem.

Who knew my mom was so smart?

I would LOVE to take a nap.

Gitchie, Gitchie, GOO!

WOW! I've never heard anyone fart quite like that. (talking to Connor)

Um, Charles? Is this supposed to happen to baby boys? REALLY? Well uh...which way do I point it so it doesn't break off?

Go.....son......just..... AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! (to prevent swearing in front of the kids)

I hate it when the dog humps the stuffed animals.

No, it's not a special occassion. Put that away.

I know you've got a couple. Come clean.

I Think I'm Going To Puke ... On Her

Is it just me? Or do you think she's a bitch too?

I'm all about slinging a little bullshit and joking around, but I can't tolerate a condescending bitch.

In her blog, she says that she just left her husband a little while ago, I say he's better off.

Found this through Mommy Has A Headache

Operation: Lose That Ass - Week 3

Yes, I know I'm a day late. Sorry. Home and work have kept me busy.

Let's see. My weight - I've lost 1lb. LOL But my pants do fit so much better. I've put my 16's away and am now firmly in my 14 - did you get that? I said FIRMLY (I have a very active imagination). LOL

Sorry for no picture. Last week it wouldn't load and this week I didn't take one. Or rather Charles wasn't around to take it. He is with his parents this week in the mountains of NC.

I'm sure that weight loss would have been better if I could have gotten up on time to work out. I have to do mine in the morning and I slept late almost every single day last week, but never fear, I'm back on track.

I gave yoga another try this morning and I really liked it so I plan on doing more of that. The pilates hate me, but I'm trying to make friends.

Lauren woke up early this morning and walked in on my working out. "Mom, what ARE you doing?"

"excersizin' baby"

"You don't look like that lady on TV"

"I know Sweetie, that's one of the reason's I'm doing this."

"Well, not just that, but you aren't doing it like her."

"I know sweetie. I seem to have some trouble getting into the Warrior pose."

"Warrior pose?"

"Yeah, I think that's what this one is called."

Pause

"You're weird Mom."

"Thanks sweetie. Now go back to bed, you don't have to be up for another hour."

"Weird-o"

Mama! Mama.

"Mama! Mama. Mama"

I hear him from the computer room and I go to check on him. It's early morning, 2am and he's sick again.

I put my head in his room and find him in the darkness. His room lite only by his small night light and the light seeping in the the bathroom across the way. He's asleep on his tummy, knees tucked beneath him, his favorite sleeping position. He had been calling me in his sleep, like he always does when he's sick. He's a bit wrestless and I watch him for a moment.

He has kicked off his blanket. I debate the wisdom of covering him up. The slightest touch might wake him and he needs his sleep. I cover him anyway and he's immediately awake. He stands and stretches his arms up to me.

I pick him up and he rests his head on my shoulder, my right shoulder and lets the rest of his body go limp. I give him a snuggle and he's warm. Not just sleep warm, he's got a fever. I carry him to the kitchen and open the medicine cabinet and take his temperature. It's not bad, 100.1, but I take out the medicine anyway.

I'm concerned and worried. Connor hardly ever runs a fever, even when he's really sick. Is this a sign of bad things to come, or is this better, showing me that his body is fighting it? I can't decide and can feel my forehead crease in a frown.

I offer him Tylenol, cherry flavored. He tastes a bit, takes half and then shakes his head no. I offer again, he shakes his head no.

I sit on the floor, Indian style, and he sits on my calves. He loves doing that, it's like his personal baby chair, and wraps my arms around himself and leans back into me. I rock him for a minute, from side to side and give him kisses and snuggles. I decide to try again with the medicine and he shakes his head no. I try again and he shakes his head no.

"Okay sweetie, let's change your diaper and we'll try again in a minute."

We pass the drain board and he sees his favorite cup.

"Mama. Mama" he says pointing to it.

"Just a minute baby. Let's change your diaper first."

All fresh and clean, I return to the kitchen and fix him some cool water. He backs away from the cup like it's a viper. I can't for the life of me figure out why he doesn't like water. It's a rare drop that has ever passed his lips. I decide not to offer milk...not with his fever, that's just asking for trouble.

I offer the medicine again and he shakes his head no. I lean back slightly and sit on my haunches and put him on my knee. I offer again, he shakes his head no. I try soothing words and comforting sounds, but he shakes his head no.

"Sorry little man, but half isn't gonna do it. You have to take it all." I force the medicine dropper past his lips, squirt a little medicine in and he pushes it out with his tongue. I sigh, because I know what I have to do next. I tilt his head back, forcing him to stay that way and push the dropper pasts his lips. He swallows.

I wait for a moment to see if it's going to come back up. His gag reflex is very sensitive and this wouldn't be the first time I've worn his medicine. I look at him, he looks at me and rests his head on my shoulder. I wish Charles were awake. I hate forcing him to take his medicine. I'm always afraid that I'm going to choke him, or that he'll throw up, but he seems to be keeping it down okay.

I pick him up and he puts his head on my shoulder, my right shoulder this time and pats my arm.

"Night-night. Night-night"

"Yes baby. Night-night" I give him a little snuggle and rub his back and he goes limp.

We walk back to his room and I rock him and sing. I sing the ABC's, and This Little Light of Mine, and the Barney song. He squirms a bit and switches from shoulder to shoulder and I rub his back.

"Time for night-night" I whisper. I've rocked him for half an hour and he's not going to sleep.

"Night-night" he whispers back. I lay him down in his crib, on his tummy like he likes it, and he tucks his knees under him. I cover him up and tuck him in lightly and rub his back for a few seconds and tell him Night-night one more time.

He lifts his head to watch me leave the room and I expect him to cry. I wait for it while walking away, but there's no sound but him settling in and getting comfy.

I linger outside his door, just out of sight to listen to him, to make sure he's okay, and I hear him whisper "night-night" one more time and he's asleep.

Cleanin House - Changing Things

I preppin' the house for some long term guests to come and live.

Over the 8 years hubby and I have been married we've accumulated a lot of "stuff" and never really dealt with a lot of the paper stuff. We've just let it stack up and collect dust, squirreled away in boxes, boxes stacked in the backs and corners of closets.

When we moved in this new house, those boxes moved into my Den and have stayed there quite happily, never bothering anyone (except me when I walk by) with their peaceful and carpet protecting existence. Over time, they have gotten friends to keep them company. The bassinet that Connor grew out of, the Christmas ornaments and Christmas tree boxes (to make room in the closet in Connors room when he moved into his room), and any other sort of bit that your house collects and you just can't bring yourself to really go through and throw away.

Now that I have friends coming to stay for quite a while, they have to go. The Den needs to be cleared out so that we can have room for all 8 of us that will be living in my house, room for the furniture they'll be bringing for extra seating.

I have cleared out eight boxes so far and have found an old CD that I bought six years ago and could never find. I've gone thru and saved obscene amounts of military documents and have even put away old military uniforms that Charles wants to keep for some reason. I found all the old awards for Charles and I and he wants to put endless amounts of holes in our walls in the computer room to show them off (called a vanity wall - one for him, and one for me). I have found numerous stray pictures that have somehow not gotten into the photo box and I can't resist looking at them and feeling the memories and smiling at most of them.

I found the letters that Charles wrote to me while he was deployed to Albania, and the ones I wrote to him. I have found the frillies and sexies that I used to wear pre-babies and ker-trashed them. A ton of Lauren's pictures and papers from school and daycare and craft projects galore, most of them dated for saving. I found a love letter from an old boyfriend, the one and only man that really broke my heart - not even my ex-hubby did that - and I kept it too.

I found a couple of issues of my high school newspaper that I used to write for, my by-line proudly showing. I found a plethora of recipes and patterns for things I've always wanted to try, things I wanted to do. Old jewelry has surfaced, things that I had thought lost forever. Pictures we still haven't hung and decorate-y things that I don't want anymore.

I have given all the baby clothes that Connor has out grown to the daycare center that he goes to and have also given them his old bouncy chair/walker thingy. I gave his old baby swing to the director there, she just had her first grandbaby and carries a picture of her around in her pocket at all times.

In the mean time, school has started so I'm back to my hectic schedule of rush-rush home, play, cook, clean, check homework, take care of cats, take care of dog and do it all RIGHT NOW! RIGHT NOW I SAY!

Lauren has fallen into the old routine of giving me drama when I tell her to go take a bath and grumbles about having the earlier bedtime with no movies to watch at night.

Connor has moved out of the baby room on to the toddler room at daycare and I can't help but feel sad and happy and sad again. My last baby is growing up and it's going to fast.

Charles is still working hellish hours to make sure we stay caught up on the bills, getting home between 9-12 every night 4-5 days a week.

I'm feeling a bit melancholy - it's probably just the damn hormones.

The PMS Post - RUN!!!!

I really don't have that much for you today (dry your eyes). I'm busy making friends with people that matter. LMAO - you know I'm kidding for Pete's sake. I'm PMSing and I'm not in a good mood so here's some fluff.

I got the doll link from Nikki's site. It's pretty fun. Something to screw around with a make all cutsie.

Also, go here. Send an Isreali (is that spelled right) - you get the drift - a soldier from Isreal, a piece of chocolate. They're fighting a war damn it - the least you can do is point and click and give 'em a yummy. If you don't, then you're a piece of shit - and I mean that. It's a fucking peice of chocolate and it's not costing you a penny so send it already. (ahem - it's seems I'm PMSing rather hard - forgive me). I got this from Carmachu's site.

Excuse me while I overdose on Midol and Pamprin.

Week Two - Operation: Lose That Ass

I really want to say that having you guys all here has really helped me stay on track with my diet. (cheeseburger) Charles is a great cheering section (Blizzard) and Lauren thinks I'll look funny if I'm able to get rid of my floppy mommy belly. (chocolate cake)

Being able to go to your blogs and talk a little trash and giggle (peanut butter cookies) has really helped keep this in the "good fun" category instead of the "Bite My Ass" category. (potato salad)

Thanks for letting me dish out snark (cheese cake) and dishing it back, all in the name of fun. (smoothie)

That being said, (M&M's) here are this weeks numbers: (chili cheese fries)




Weight last week - unknown

Weight this week - 183

How my pants are fittin' - snug in a 14 and loose in a 16 - but slightly better than before ... or is that my imaginary-nation?

I'm working out a bit with Denise Austin doing most aerobics. The Yoga just didn't do it for me - I'm not that bendy. LOL

To all the lovely participants of Operation: Lose That Ass

I'M GONNA WIIINNNNN

nanny nanny boo boo

(smoothie)

Well Damn

I'm a very happily married woman. I love my hubby deeply, but I enjoy looking. Why? Because I'm human that's why. I'm not dead. There's nothing wrong with looking at the menu as long as I don't order anything, and to be honest, it's a rare day when any man makes me take an extra long look, I'm just picky like that.

Every once in a blue moon,I see a man and think to myself "WOW. Must have a little pinky to be such a fine man." But I have been known to occasionally act like Lucille Ball from "I Love Lucy".

I'm sure if it were someone else doing this crap I'd laugh...okay, I laugh too, I can't help it. Some of the stuff that comes out of my mouth sometimes is so damn embarrassing, I can't help but to crack up while turning so red in the face, I look purple.

Classic example:

A couple of months ago, I had a client come in my office. My first thought was "WOW! You are one FINE man. Please don't be stupid and ruin it." Well, he wasn't stupid. I could only trip over my words and look like a dumbass. He came back after a couple of weeks - with no appointment, so I was unprepared for his visit. I had no time to "Psych myself up". I walked into the lobby to meet an unknown client asking for me and it was him.

His shirt clinging to his chest and hair spiked with sweat, shorts, and I'm prepared to swear in a court of law that he wasn't wearing underwear, or he stuffs his Haines. He looked at me and I looked at him and the first thing that popped into my head is what came out of my mouth. "You look HOT." I wish I could say that it was said innocently, but I oh so cleverly included hand gestures while nodding my head in a way that made it unmistakable what I meant. A far cry from the usual hand shake and mundane greeting of "Mr So-and-so, it's good to see you." don't you think?

Oh yeah, I was embarrassed as hell. My eyes immediately bugged out of my head, I gasped, and my hands flew up to cover my face 'cause I could already feel the burn in my cheeks. The burn spread ALL OVER my face - even my chin (has you CHIN ever blushed?) and I doubled over and laughed hysterically while fumbling for the words to try and explain.

From behind my hands I tried to talk to him. "I mean, you look like you've been working out. NO!! I mean that you look really sweaty. NO! OH GOD NO!! I meant that your shirt is sticking to you and... OH MY GOD!!!!! NOT LIKE THAT! NOT LIKE THAT!!! I only meant that - OH GOD!!!!!!" I was to embarrassed to go on.

I was still bent double and all of the sudden realized that I had a rather low cut blouse on that day - modest enough when I was standing up straight, but I wasn't standing up straight was I? He was getting a show while I talked about how hot he looked. (Now THAT's professionalism at it's best right there. Don't deny it.)

I stood up so quickly it must have looked like I was having a seizure.

I tried to regain my composure. I took my hands down from my face, put the death grip on my pants to keep them there, looked him square in the neck - and apologized in a most professional manner while my face glowed a lovely deep purple. I must have looked like some sort of weird bug.

"Mr. So-and-so. I am terribly sorry for any misunderstanding. It was not my intention to offend you in any way, shape, form or fashion. I apologize profusely for my unprofessional behavior and can only hope that you will except my apology."

He graciously accepted my apology - all the while grinning like the cat who ate the canary and ribbed me endlessly the whole time he was in my office. When he left he said "I'll tell my wife you said 'Hello'"

Greaaaaat. I'm looking forward to that call....or visit.

Just Another Day In Paradise

MA MA! MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA!

I looked down and there was my cute little man, arms stretched high, wanting me to pick him up.

He's feeling kinda puny so I walk over and pick him up, give him a snuggle. He puts his head on my shoulder and pets my arm - like a dog.

He sits up, looks at me, and pukes warm, chunky, wetness down my front. It runs down my shirt, in my bra, down my stomach, down my legs and pools at my feet.

"Lauren honey, get me a towel NOW please. Connor just threw up." Connor starts to cry.

"What Mom?"

"Get me a towel please."

She brings me a dish cloth. "No honey, I need a towel." She runs over with a snow white, relatively new towel. "No Lauren, I need an old ragged towel, please hurry" Connor stops crying and puts his head on my shoulder, the one not covered in vomit, and pets my arm. "Ma Ma. MAMAMA" more arm petting and a kiss on my shoulder.

The smell of vomit is starting to get to me, and now the wet warmness is turning to wet coolness and I can feel chunks of something in my bra - and it has nothing at all to do with what God gave me to put in it. I was still in my work clothes - a new white shirt.

Lauren arrives with an old towel and runs like hell for the other side of the house holding her nose. I semi-spread out the towel on the floor and stand on it, at least we were in the kitchen and not on the carpet.

"Lauren, please, could you get me another one?"

A look of horror fills her face.

"Lauren, I need another towel please and I don't want to get this on the carpet. Please get me another towel." I'm starting to get upset. I'm the one that got thrown up on after all and she's horrified I want her to bring me another towel.

She comes back with another old towel, pinching her nose for all she's worth with her thumb and forefinger, the rest of her fingers are curled claw like and digging in her face. She's pinching her nose so hard, the tip has turned fire engine red, like she's trying to rip it off. I roll my eyes at her.

I put Connor down on the towel on the floor and strip him, laying his clothes beside him, throw the diaper away, and dry him off. He lets me know what he thinks of this idea by showing me his tonsils and testing the highest note he can hit. I strip as well, down to my birthday suit, some of the vomit had gotten on my underwear somehow and I gag. I dry off and bundle the clothes in the second towel, pick up Connor and head for the washing machine, leaving the other towel on the floor until I can scrub it.

Next I head for diaper station, no need to tempt fate for additional ickyness.

"Lauren, could you please unplug the fryer? I don't want the food to burn" I laid Connor down and he knows what I'm getting ready to do. He protests and it hurts my ears. I get a better view of his tonsils.

"Mom, you're naked"

"Yes Sweetie, I know. Please unplug the frier."

Lauren unplugs the frier and stands watching me. I wipe Connor down with a few hundred wipes, no time to give a bath now, I'm cooking dinner.

Freshly diapered, fresh long shirt, Connor is happy - for now. "Keep an eye on him please Sweets, I need to put some clothes on." She looks at me in that "Mom has lost her mind" kind of way - she's not used to seeing me stroll around the house naked and is scared that Connor will hurl on her. "He'll be fine Sweetie" I say, and hope it's true. I don't want to find out if Lauren is a sympathy puker tonight.

I go wash quickly in the sink, get dressed and head back out to the short people. Connor is sitting in the bean bag with Lauren reading him a book. I plug the frier back in. I hope the squash is okay. Fried squash is a pain in the ass to fix, it takes so long, I damn sure don't want to have to redo it.

Connor walks over to me and throws his juice cup at my feet. If I didn't know better, I would think he was offering me some. HA! He looks at me, he looks at the cup, he looks back at me. I can just see the words in his face "What the hell is taking so long mom? Fix me some juice already." He's so full of charm, even at this young age.

I give him some Pedialite, he's had loose stools all day. He throws the cup down at my feet again. I look at him, he looks at me, and goes back to Lauren with another book in his hand, leaving the pedialite at my feet. That boy is his daddy through and through. I wish he liked popcicles.

I put the chicken in the oven and get the vegetables ready for steaming and scrub the floor.

Charles arrives home just in time for dinner. I hand him the baby as soon as he walks in the door. "Please give him a bath, I need to shower and then we can eat."

Charles kisses me on top of the head and asks one of those questions that only smart people can "Bad day?" "Can't you tell by my freshness?" I say.

Baby all fresh and clean, Mommy all fresh and clean, we arrive in the living room together. Lauren is asleep on the couch.

"You know that you get to stay home with him tomorrow don't you." I say.

"Just another day in Paradise baby." he smirks.

Yeah, lets see if he says that when a diaper explodes and the baby pukes all at the same time. I'll make the appropriate noises over the phone, and hang up, glad that's not me.

The Cold Hard Truth

I'm working out in the morning with Dennis Austin doing aerobics. I have also tried pilates and yoga for the first time ever. None of it was pretty. I've been thinking of going running in the mornings but I live down very narrow country roads and I'm afraid I would go squish by some ass-wipe in a jacked up truck with extra big wheels sporting those ridiculous KC lights on a chrome roll over bar with rusted out wheel wells.

As far as the exercise - it feels like I'm back in the military doing PT (physical training) waking up at 5 a fucking clock in the morning to go to muscle failure and torture myself (you can't have all the fun now can you). I don't want a repeat of basic training, so I've been taking it easy, breaking myself back into the routine, to the walking around like an old lady but keeping the benefit of being able to lift my arms to wash my hair (which is a good thing).

In relation to food - you must understand something. I'm anorexic. I'm the only fat anorexic I know, but once anorexic, always anorexic. I never really obsessed about my weight until I joined the military. They had a scale - something I never really got on, and they said I could only weigh so much - and I weighed 4lbs over that when I joined the Army. They sent me to "Fitness" - basically a fat camp and it shamed me. It shamed me to the CORE. The Drill Sergeants were hoovering over us at all times, making sure we weren't eating anything we weren't supposed to and smoked our asses 3-4 times a day (definition of "smoked" - making a subordinate soldier do so much exercise that they would often physically collapse from muscle failure). I stayed there for a bit and finally proceeded to basic training, where I slimmed down considerably but gained more weight from all the muscle. I met the taping requirements with no problems (this is where they get a tape measure - like the one's used for sewing - and measure your neck, wrists, hips...and something else, I forget ((different spots for men))) and they measure your body fat. I moved on to AIT (advanced individual training) and was able to relax a bit, however, I was still not making the height/weight requirement and had to get taped - a stigma of the sloppy female soldier that I DID NOT want, but didn't know how to go about doing what they wanted done.

I met another female soldier, Shay, and she advised me to skip a couple of meals. I took her advice, got off the tape, and was so pleased with my results, I continued to not eat. I'll give you an idea of how much weight I lost - I went from a size 14 to a size 10 in 6 months, most of that size change came in the last 2 months. I moved on to my Permanent Duty station and one of the high ranking section Sergeants made a remark that he didn't think I heard. He said "Why does the Army have to send us FAT females" After that, it was on. I ate about every 3 days or so. I'd have a slice of pizza - a small one and be so full because my stomach had shrunk to half the size of my fist. The only person who had a clue (including my hubby) was the First Sergeant. Why did he know? Because the scales were in his office and I would often sneak in his office to weigh myself - EVERY DAY. He caught me a few times and made a remark that it seemed I had a problem with my weight. I laughed it off and never went back. That left me bereft of scales. I didn't dare have them in my room, some one might become suspicious because I was so thin. I did without - and it didn't do me any favors.

I now had to GUESS how much I weighed. Can you say MENTAL TORTURE???? During this time, I was doing the required PT in the morning and additional PT in the afternoon they also required. Basically, I was running about 8 miles a day or more and working out my abs, my upper body, and any other muscle group I could. When I got to go back to the barracks for the evening, if my room mate was out, I would exercise MORE. Always more. MORE MORE MORE. It was never enough. I couldn't tell how much I weighed. I couldn't take the risk of having a scale. I plummeted to a size 8.

I looked like a walking skeleton. My spine protruded, and it really hurt when we would do sit ups on the concrete at PT. I lost almost all fat stores. It didn't click with me that it shouldn't hurt to sit on cushioned surfaces, or that I looked sick, even when a couple of people commented to me that they thought I looked sick. I chalked it up to them seeing things and continued doing what I was doing. My chain of command was happy. I wasn't another fat female, I did PT with the males and I was Air Assault Qualified (I jumped out of helicopters). My numbers made their numbers look good, I didn't cause to much trouble, and they left me alone.

How did I get this under control?? Well, I didn't really, but when I found out I was pregnant with Lauren, I stopped this cold turkey. The only problem was, I no longer knew how much to eat and it be okay. HOW MUCH WAS THE CORRECT AMOUNT????!!! I didn't have a fuckin clue. I was terrified of not giving her what she needed, so I over ate and gained 100lbs while I was pregnant. I lost all but 30 lbs of that weight (NOT doing the anorexic thing), which was a good weight for me, and gained it all right back with Connor.

I finally went and sat down with a Nutritionist after I got pregnant with Connor. Problem still there, still not fixed, but much, much better. Charles gives me "the eye" if I say I'm not hungry, and I don't want my daughter thinking it's okay not to eat.

Yeah, I have food issues, but hubby keeps his eye on me and I want to live a long long time. I want to grow old with my man and watch him dandle our grandbabies on his knees. I want to be there for Lauren when she needs that shoulder - that mommy shoulder, even when she's 30.

So don't freak out - I'm being good. Charles is helping me do this the right way, again.

Week One - Operation: Lose That Ass

Yes, my ass is a very scary thing. You may run now - to the nearest mental help facility. Just keep in mind, they will not be able to get rid of this aweful image that is now burned permanently into your brain. NAY! Not even tears will wash it away.






Yeah, I was getting ready to vacumn and remembered I needed to take these pics. I kept my oh so glorious orange tee-shirt on just for you....no, those are not pumpkins in my shirt...nor are there any animals in a blanket wrestling down my pants (I checked).

Age - 32
Height - 5'7" (and some change)
Weight - don't know, my scale seems to have gone kerflewy. I'll have it posted for you in the morning.
Pants Size - 14, almost 16
Target Pants Size - 12

Curteousy of The Blair Bitch, she has sent us some weight loss tips, seems she has been here, done that, and made her own kick ass T-shirt. I have listed them for you below.

Dieting in front of your kids can have an effect on how they eat and see food so eat healthy foods with small portions and show your kids how they should eat all the time.

What you want to eat are the right sized portions. That's what you should check when you're deciding what to eat, not calories.

A side salad with lunch and dinner. Your digestive system won't thank you right away for all the ruffage (sp) but it will make you feel full and you won't want to eat your entire meal.

An 8 ounce glass of water while you're preparing meals. Water fills
you up.

5 meals/day. 3 doesn't cut it. Snacks inbetween don't count as a meal.
5 SMALL MEALS/DAY. A serving of meat of your choice, vegetables, fruits,
etc..

Eat whatever you want. Yes, I said WHATEVER YOU WANT! Just eat it in moderation. So if you have a craving for a sweet, you eat a small piece of it. If you want cake, you have a sliver. You nibble these and eat them VERRRRY slowly and I assure you, this will satisfy your craving.

Asparagus is a diuretic. You will lose water eating it so eat lots of it.

You don't have to spend a ton of money on fresh veggies, canned and frozen are just as good and will last you longer, too.

FISH over chicken any day. You metabolize fish faster than chicken or red meat.

I Can't Believe It's Not Butter spray. 0 calories if you're worried about calories.

Do NOT leave out carbs just reduce how much you eat. Carbs are brain food and if you don't eat them you won't be able to focus and you will feel fuzzy-headed and "off". But stay away from breads and pastas if you can. Melba toast is good.

NUTS!! Almonds, especially. More antioxidants.

If I can think of anything else I will let you know.

I also have the sidebar done up for Operation: Lose That Ass. If I missed you, please let me know and I'll fix it right away.

K, that's it...snark away.

Dear Little Miss Dumb Shit,

Get the fuck out of my office. You condescending little bitch. If you knew how badly I wanted to smack you right now, you'd run for the hills.

I'm not even a little bit interested in the "all oak" steps in you house that lead up from the basement. I don't give a shit that all rooms in your home have ceiling fans. I give a flying fuck that you have hardwood floors in the kitchen.

You have two children who are spoiled little brats, and even though I have said something to YOU and to THEM, you still do not correct them. You ignore them, so much more focused on your shiny new house than their behavior. Never mind the fact that they are climbing up my filing cabinets and could be crushed if one came down on top of him. I have told them both, the youngest one 3 times, to get down.

Your husband is a nice guy. Why in the hell he would want to be married to you - I have no idea. You're a materialistic bitch who isn't even remotely interested in raising your kids and you screw around on your husband. I saw you - you fuckin whore. I had to go into town late one day last week and there you making out with some guy in the parking lot. IN THE PARKING LOT AT WALMART!!!! Could you have picked a more public place?

If you were even partially human, I would be happy about your new home with you. I would ooh and aah and talk about all those features you are so obviously obsessed about and offer your kids some candy - but I won't.

You are a sub-human, sub-mother, sub-wife bitch and I would love to jack your jaw just one time. And let's not forget the fact that you really are dumb. I'm not kidding. You're fucking dumb. Dumb in away that says that you couldn't finish high school and had to drop out because the "How NOT To Break Your Crayons" class was to complex for you.

...and just incase you didn't notice, that hair that you keep flipping...yeah, your blond highlights have turned green hon. Go get that shit fixed.

Dear God,

Sometimes, you let really good things happen.

Like yesterday, when I went to CVS I found two really great books for Lauren. Journey to the Center of the Earth, and Around the World in 80 Days. They were only 2.99 a piece! I snatched them up and did a funny little dance. They were hiding behind one of those displays that hang from the aisle on those plastic doo-hickeys, on the bottom shelf. I just happened to drop my keys, bent to pick them up and something caught my eye. Hard backed with an illustration every few pages, I was taken back to the first time I had ever read them. I hugged them close and grinned at the cashier as she tucked them in crinkly plastic bag and pushed them towards me.

After I picked up Lauren, I showed them to her and teased her just a little bit. I made airplane noises and pretended they were flying over her head while she jumped for them. "Sorry" I said "These two books are only for people who really love to read...only for people who love a good story about adventure. I wonder who I'll give them to hummmmm?" She almost tackled me. She has devoured several pages of Journey to the Center of the Earth already. "I'm going to leave these in the car mom, right here, beside my seat, so I can read some every afternoon and every morning." So that's where they live now,in my console, eagerly awaiting her return, so that she may discover the treasures inside.

Thank you for giving her the love of reading. Thank you for giving her the imagination to enjoy them. Thank you for my daughter, she's my angel.

My mother is now living in Montana. She and her husband have been dreaming of finally being able to live there for many years, and you finally made that happen. I miss them but she's happy, so it's okay. I get to talk to her all the time. What's even better is that she has now got a camera phone so I can send her pictures of my short people all the time. Last night I sent her 2 showing Connor slinging food from here to there and my Lauren looking beautiful and sweeter than sugar.

Charles got that nice raise and now, all of our medical bills are paid off. We no longer have to worry about bankruptcy. I don't pace the floor at night any more, and cry in the shower where no one can hear me. I don't squish my kids in extra hard hugs because I feel guilty for not doing better by them. I squish them extra hard because I love them and treasure them.

We will finally get to take the kids places instead of just being homebound - not even being able to afford gas for free activities. I'll be able to take Lauren shopping for school clothes instead of just a shirt or pants and shoes here and there, skipping enough lunches and saving every single penny to save up for them. I don't have to worry anymore if I need to take Connor to the Dr, if I have enough money to cover the co-pay in the bank, and how I'm going to afford the prescriptions that he always gets. I don't have to worry about the electricity being shut off and people taking me to court. I don't have to worry how I'm going to afford a new car battery if the one I have now suddenly dies. I don't have to worry about making the tank of gas I have streeeeetch as long as possible because we don't have the money for any more, I can turn on the AC and not feel guilty.

I'm still deeply in love with my husband. I love him more and better than I ever have. We are constantly re-discovering each other and spend countless hours depriving ourselves of much needed sleep talking and joking like teenagers. We talk of important things and issues in the world and sometimes, we talk about nothing at all and fall asleep at night holding each other.

Thank you for sending him my way. Thank you for sending me a man that loves me for my intellect, my spirit, my sense of fun. Thank you for sending me a man with a sense of humor, who is capable of such sweet, fierce love and believes his word is his bond. Thank you for sending me a man that respects me, my opinions and decisions.

Thank you for sending me a MAN.

Connor is doing so great! I never drempt that he would be doing this well after he was so sick for so long. Even now, he has dual ear infections, but I can't tell. He's not cranky, or fussy. There's no fever, no loss of appetite or pulling of the little ears. He's happy. He giggles and likes to face dive into the bean bag and baby wrestles with his daddy. He gives such sweet drooly kisses and when he hugs me, he squishes his whole baby sized body against me and snuggles into my neck. He pats my arm and makes adorable baby noises and it makes me feel like I couldn't possible take another breath and have it better than the one I was holding right at that moment, only to find that it is better, that it is some how sweeter and more life giving.

I couldn't even imagine this a year ago.

Thank you for my son.

Thank you for being there with me though all those really tough times. When I was in the shower, the washcloth pressed firmly to my mouth, tears mingling with the spray. When I hit my knees, for the first time ever, when Connor was going in for surgery, not even 2 months old. How I screamed and prayed and shouted in anger at you when he would stop breathing, getting ready to do CPR on my infant son, who we had tried for so many years to have, who I was was watching slip away in front of me. When Lauren was 8 months and then again at 2 and she was soo, sooo, sick and I didn't know what to do. When things between Charles and I got so ugly, I packed his bags for him and told him he either needed to get himself together, or get out, all the while I felt my heart had been ripped from my body and I was bleeding freely, leaving a big pool of love on the floor. How he hugged me, and held me and took his suitcase back in the bedroom and we talked for hours and slowly got ourselves back together and things have been wonderful ever since, even after all this time.

Thank you for all you have done, because I realize that while life doles out challenges to us all..to me and mine...you have been beside me, and in me, and I was never alone.

Thank you.

Rules and Links for Operation Lose That Ass

Okay Ladies

Here are the ground rules so far:

1 - We begin 14 Aug with a post on our own blog with pictures (you may skip them if you aren't comfortable with them). Included in this post you should have your current pants size, and your target pants size. You may include any other information that you like. Talking shit is encouraged.

2 - Be honest. It's obvious that we can't monitor you in person and you'll just fuck up the whole game if you're a liar. Don't be a selfish bitch like that.

3 - Do this healthy ladies. I don't want you passing out because you wanted to get skinny before some chick you've never met before does. Anorexia and/or bulimia is not the way to go. Trust me on this - I know. Remember to feed your body. If you don't eat, your body saves every teeny calorie, it screws up your metabolism and leads to other health problems. Do this the right way, or please bow out.

4 - NO diet pills.

5 - Cheer the other ladies on if you are so inclined. It is great motivation to keep us all going. You may also talk shit at this time - if you are so inclined (snicker) - NIKKI

6 - There is not set work out regimen or anything. You do what best fits into your schedule/budget. If you want to go to the gym, by all means go. If you want to work out in front of the TV - that's fine too. If you feel the best way to get into those pants is to take a dump...just remember - laxatives aren't allowed either. ew.

7 - NO PLASTIC SURGERY - just wanted to put that in there - it seems a couple of us are smart asses - Nikki

8 - updates every Monday with the progress that you've made on your blog.

9 - remember that we are all made differently. Even if someone is the same height as you, the same weight may not be good for the both of you, just as the same pants size may not be good for both of you. No jealous bitchyness please - unless it's done in a purely fun way - Nikki (snicker)

10 - Share you receipts and tricks. Don't be a selfish bitch. LOL


I've included a couple of links for you below to help with your calorie intake and what not. There's also a link Kim's blog. He's lost a lot of weight - he's been there and done that and got the T-shirt. He's also a pretty smart man and I have never seen him be ungracious to anyone. He has kindly extended the offer for us to go have a look-see at his blog that he keeps in reference to loosing weight.

If you can think of anything that needs to be added link or rule wise - please let me know and I'll put it up.

I'm also going to make a sidebar for those of us participating so that we can just click on each other instead of me having to gather all your info every week. Feel free to make a sidebar if you are so inclined - I don't have the market on them or anything. I'll hopefully be getting the sidebar up today, and I think Nikki M. already has hers up.

Links

Kim - Losing a Hundredweight

Height and Weight Table

Calorie Counter

Diet Tips and Articles

How Many Calories Can You Have?

How to lose or gain weight

15 Common Myths About weight loss, nutrition, and diet.

Operation: LOSE THAT ASS

Nikki (over at Now What The Hell Do I DO?) and I are having a little competition.

I say that I'll be in my goal pants size before she will.

We have given ourselves 2 months to lose 2 pants sizes.

The loser has to blog about the others Greatness (snicker).

Anybody else want to play?

We'll be starting on the 14th - posting before pictures and info.

This is the perfect thing I've been waiting for. A partner in crime - someone to help me loose the heftyness that has accumulated about my person. A person, who isn't afraid to talk a little shit and joke around - MOTIVATION AND FUN!!!!

Who's interested? We can warp you mind too...if you're interested.

(don't everybody flock to join at once now)

Yawn

I'm not a movie goer but I went with Lauren today to the movies. We had hoped to see Garfield 2 but no such luck.

Instead, we saw Barnyard. Yes BARNYARD.

This would have been a great movie if I was 2. Alas, I am 32 and it just didn't do it for me. I fell asleep in the movie theatre. Yes, I fell asleep. I'm not exactly the type you want to take to the movies unless there's explosions and shit, especially if the movie we go to includes cartoon animated cows with thumbs. Yes, that's right cows with THUMBS.

After the movie, Lauren and I went and got school supplies and I bought a new hairdryer and then we came home, where I again, went to sleep. (sad isn't it, that I can still be worn out and still think about my hair)

I even slept in this morning. I didn't wake up until 11! I never sleep that late. The latest I can pull off is 8am and then I just feel drained because I slept so long, but today, I slept until 11, cat napped in the movie theatre and went directly to bed when we got home.

I woke up at midnight and was greeted with the scariest kitchen ever. Seems hubby had a hard time holding it together watching little man all day, then having both kids while I was sleeping, and to top it all off, he had to cook dinner too. My kitchen looks like hell detoured thru it. The microwave looks like something exploded in it and I'm considering just throwing the damn thing away instead of having to actually clean it. We don't have a power tool that is that heavy duty.

I'm scared to go back in there. There's empty soda cans, plastic wrapping from something or other, wads of paper towel, dirty pots stacked 3 high and the floor looks like someone dropped some green beans and did the river dance on top of 'em. I'm not even going to talk about how the trash can...never mind.

The living room doesn't look much better. The only thing I can say for it - there doesn't seem to be any green beans on the floor - but everything else is. It would appear that Charles couldn't muster the energy to tidy up in there. Toys are strown from here to there and two of the blinds have broken slats - baby head high. I'm guessing that Little Man wanted to look out the window - what do you think?

The Laundry Room smells funny. I don't know what happened, I'm not going to ask cause I'm pretty sure I don't want to know. I'll just wash whatever that is in the laundry basket and shut up about it. I'm pretty sure though, that I didn't wear that shirt that's sitting on top of the washing machine today and now there's a big pink stain on it. I have no idea what that is. It's kind-a scary to be honest because I can't think of a thing that we have in the house that would leave a big PINK stain. It doesn't look like washed out blood.

The dining room. OY. The most I can say for it is that it's still there - and so are all the school supplies I bought. Tablets and pencils and crayons and glue and new book bag all over everywhere. I can't see the top of the table - and it's not because I'm blind - though, I'm wishing I was at the moment.

The dog won't seem to leave me alone. He keeps pawing at my leg and whining. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was scared of something.

The cats have all been giving me accusitory looks and I'm not quite sure what I did. Maybe they think that they are the only ones who should get that much sleep in one day. I dunno. But I'm watching them, AND my ankles just in case.

I've peaked in on the baby, and he seems to have all his body parts and isn't covered in poo and/or vomit and smells like he had a bath. I haven't gone into his bathroom yet because I'm scared what I might find.

Lauren is sleeping peacefully - TV blaring at full volume and candy wrappers on her floor. It's painfully obvious, from when I went to kiss her cheek, that daddy didn't make her brush her teeth before going to bed. I'll shut up about that too though, because she seems to have had a bath - I think.

Charles is asleep in the recliner in a position that looks like someone knocked him out cold and he just happened to land on the recliner. There are dark circles under his eyes and drool is dribbling down his chin. Yeah, he's sexy.

Me? I'm hiding in the computer room, delaying the inevitable of cleaning up. I'm using the excuse that it's late - or early - and I don't want to wake anyone up. Yeah, I don't want to wake anyone up. That's my story. I'm using that one.