What does 41 look like?

I guess I'll know what it looks like on me tomorrow, but I know I've seen plenty of other girls wearing it, and it looks pretty fantastic on them.
 I'm hoping it will be like when you are in the dressing room and looking at a dress (or skirt, pants, tubetop...just kidding) and thinking "There is no way this is going to fit me...without the use of a starvation diet and a shoe horn at least". But then, it actually fits!
Maybe I'll try it on and be pleasantly surprised at the fit and feel of it.  There's so much about myself that I'm always so critical of, my hair, my hips, my inability to file the correct forms with the Department of Revenue...that I'm thinking tomorrow I'm going to try to tell myself things that I LIKE about myself...and leave criticisms until Saturday, possibly even Sunday.

I'll let you know how it goes, and if you see my number on your caller i.d. this weekend, know for sure that I'm looking for somewhere to unload birthday cake, before I eat it all.

First day of the diet...for realz.

The girl at the clinic yesterday made a deal with me, that if I would be extremely "clean" with what I ate, and write every single bite down for one week...and then "ta-da" I will see significant improvement in the weight loss department.

Two problems with this:

1st - eating clean...have you seen my pantry? the fridge? Yeah, there's a couple of apples in the fridge, and a bagged salad mix, but then there are 14,563 things I could eat that taste MUCH better.  I know if I tried I could still find some chocolate from Valentines Day.

2nd - writing all this crap down...um, sure, I'll sit and write while I'm laying in my chaise lounger out by the pool.  For this to work, I will have to wear a sharpie around my neck and write the food list up my arm all day. I have 4 sons people, and it's the end of the school year for 3 of them, with Oldest Boy graduating. I live in the circus on most days, just a small petting zoo on the rare good ones.

Alright, for 7 days, I can do this...and I will...and you will listen to me gripe and moan about it every single time I sit here...but too bad! If I have to do, so do you...lets see...

Day 1:  diet coke....

1/2 pounds later...

Yep, just 1/2 pound. That's what I've lost from Monday through today. 5 days, 1/2 pound. I've skipped: pasta with garlic bread, homemade pizza, eggs with the yolks still attached, and several instances of Little Debbie snack cakes eaten by the men while watching t.v., sitting on the sofa.

And I made those (and more) sacrifices for what??!!! 1/2 pound.

This scale is going to be the freaking end of me, I swear.  I was told today that perhaps I need to go down to only 2 servings of starches per week. PER WEEK.   Alright, and maybe I should only breathe 4 of the 7 days this week as well...it's doable...

I've heard that the older you get, the harder the weight loss becomes...really? So this is easy compared to what I'll deal with in my 50's?  If the answer is "omg, yes", then I'm just going to lay my head on this desk and sob. 

I'm the girl who likes kickboxing, I can do pushups like a guy, I can crank out situps like crazy. I've never been a tiny, petite girl, but other than when I was in my "beached whale" stages of having kiddos, I've usually been in pretty good shape. So what the heck??  When I stood on that scale today, I actually felt a hatred...a personal, scratch your eyes out, say bad things about your Momma hatred for that scale. 

So...if you happen to drive past my neighborhood this weekend and see alot of smoke, don't be concerned, you will know I've finally put that scale in it's place...right on my backyard grill.

Heartbreakers and becoming bulletproof...

Don't you wish you could protect the kiddos from the rough stuff? I've always been one to cringe on their behalf, wishing I could take the bullet for them, but then sometimes jumping into the trajectory too late, and having to watch the offspring suffer one heartbreak or another. It blows.

Today the lesson learned is simply how to take the bullet.  It's one thing to have bad news and roll with it, another to let it completely destroy you.

Make no mistake, I am the Queen of "Being Destroyedland". I'm not proud of it, but I am prone to falling apart almost every time I step on the scale, for example, or when Baby Boy takes a marker to the walls. I try to keep my boys from seeing me lose it, but on occasion, I have to break out the margarita glass and put myself in time-out.

Oldest Boy had a heartbreaker today...didn't get a job he was going for, and man, he was so excited about it.  Now, it's not written in stone yet, but the results aren't looking too good.  I'm trying to get him to roll with it, understand that God's got the plan here, and know that good things are still coming.  It's hard though, and part of me wishes I could fix it...but part of me knows this is part of his becoming a man, learning to deal with the disappointment.

So, bust out the kevlar, Oldest Boy...we are going to get through the rough stuff here, and on the other side of it you will find you are becoming more bulletproof every day.

The dinner frenzy...

If you've ever caught me on the phone when it's time to get dinner on the table, then you can easily imagine what it must sound like to be in the middle of a tank of sharks, when a tasty tidbit gets dropped nearby in the water. It is mind-bogglingly loud and chaotic...

It is a half-off sale at Brighton, it is free mocha latte day at Starbucks, it is the last bottle of water, found by 25 people shipwrecked on an island at sea.

I kid you not. When 4 sons come barging into the kitchen at 6pm, you drop that food on some plates, and run...being sure to keep your fingers away from the teeth.

This evening I made almost 4 pounds of pork katsu (Japanese food? Yep! We love it!), and made a 5-cup pot of rice...5 cups of rice people, I had to force them to leave some for their dad. I actually have to make more rice, they ate ALL of it. 

If you ever see me looking wild eyed and frazzled in the evening, check the clock, and then check me to make sure I have all ten digits, please.

He's leaving me...

No, it's not what you think...although, hubby wouldn't be considered insane to leave this hot mess of a wife...what with her constant hang-ups about pants that refuse to zip up and calorie counting that would drive an actuary to an asylum...who wouldn't run screaming??

I was referring to Oldest Boy. Yes, again. Yes, I know, he's growing up, I need to get a grip...but man, it's so freaking hard. 

Oldest Boy and Pretty Princess (Baby Boy's name for O.B's girlfriend) went and picked out his tuxedo for their proms. (Notice the "s" there? You guessed it, they go to different schools, therefore renting the tux twice is on the agenda.)  I was invited to go, but I declined...I figured that she knew what she wanted him to wear, and isn't it time for him to learn to just wear whatever she puts in front of him anyway?

So, the missing out on the shopping for the tux isn't the weird part, it's the whole "the first time someone else is doing this shopping for him, instead of me"...that's what's got me.

I just keep seeing myself picking out his little outfits at Sears when he was small...it seems so surreal that he doesn't need that attention from me much anymore.

Ah well, at least the kid still needs my credit card to rent the tux...he hasn't completely ditched me yet...  :)

Mommy needs a time-out...

preferrably with her butt in a pedicure chair.  Face me towards the corner, it won't offend me, odds are I'll be sleeping in 2.5 minutes anyway.

Is it bad that I want to put "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" on, just so that I can lay down and snooze? (Also, is it bad that I still think Johnny Depp is a hottie, even with those weird teeth he wears in the movie?)

It's 1:30 pm, and you'd think I was out partying like a rock star last night...when actually I was in bed by 10.  When did I get to be so un-fun?  Middle Boy calls me the "fun sucker".  I still think I'm fun...I can be alot of fun, as long as it's only about 7 or 8 at night.  My husband thinks I'm fun...but he's three years older than I am...makes you think doesn't it?

I'd really LIKE to be more fun...maybe if I can just squeeze in a nap first...

Selfless

That's the word of the day here today:
self·less

Pronunciation: \ˈsel-fləs\, adjective

having no concern for self, selflessness being a noun.

You know you've seen people who embody this trait, and it's glaringly obvious when someone doesn't.  I'm struggling today with someone who doesn't.  I won't name names, he isn't anyone in my home, however he is someone who is important to me.

How can you say you love someone, and yet treat them like something left over on the buffet table, cold and congealed?  (Possibly dripping with ranch dressing...see previous post).  I have never understood being so mad or angry at someone you love that you would be willing to completely remove them from your life.  I mean, close the book, walk away, act like they don't exist. 

This has become the norm in the relationship between myself and this other person. I've cried, I've ranted, I've probably driven my poor husband insane over it...and yet, here I sit, angry about it again this morning.  What do you do when this person means so much to you?  How many times do you try to restart the relationship?  At what point do you just quit? (And if you do quit, then what? Mourn the death of the relationship?)

I want to send a graduation announcement for Oldest Boy to this person. O.B would love it if he actually got a response...but I'm doubtful and hesitant.  Do I write this person and tell him "You are burning bridges here, acknowledge these children,  get your head out of your butt..." ??  Would that make a difference?

How do you get through to someone who doesn't know how to be selfless?  Is it something they could learn? Would it be easier for me to lose these freaking 15 pounds in 10 days?? I'm beginning to believe it might be...

 

Once upon a time, at a nameless pizza place...

...there was a salad known as "Bacon Ranch!!"  Upon a quick review of the two salads available to this girl last night, I opted for "ranch" over "Italian"...I know, I was at a pizza place, get the Italian, but I AM Italian, I KNOW what good Italian dressing tastes like, and the bottled stuff ain't it. Not even close.

"Bacon Ranch!" consisted of a bagged salad mix (which I buy, not knocking that part), a jar of salad dressing (Wow, really? Is it supposed to drip off the leaves?), and two handfulls of artificially flavored soy bean things, that are supposed to look like bacon bits. I neither kid, nor exaggerate. That's what was for dinner. 

The Little Boy had pizza and breadsticks (lots of breadsticks), and orange soda. I think he might have sniffed and/or licked a lettuce leaf at some point, or maybe thought he would gain enough nutrients by simply gazing at the appealing bowl of salad across the room...I can't be sure...either way, I lose my "Mom of the Year" award yet again, for failing to put one single healthy thing in his mouth last night. 

Good thing I can try for the trophy again today...maybe I'll make him some salad...

Dinner with the kiddos

So, I'm taking the kids out for pizza this evening, it's a fundraiser for Little Boy's school.  You know that means that there will be 501,000 kids there, along with a slew of frazzled parents, with a noise level high enough to make your ears ring later.

Little Boy is excited, naturally, hoping to see lots of his friends...I love events like this...the kind where you can make eye contact over the little heads, nodding to the other moms in a silent "Are you as exhausted as I am?" way.  You know that look I'm referring to, it's universal, moms in China have that same look and nod.

There won't be a thing there that is remotely close to being something on my list of acceptible foods from my dietician.  I was so happy about losing that pound today, you KNOW it's going to sneak back into my waistline by 8pm.  I guess I'll pray to the salad gods that they have provided something somewhat healthy, although I'm not going to be the house on it.

I will, however, place a fairly large wager that my Little Boy is going to have a great time, and that's the whole point, isn't it?

Nadia Bloom

I came on here this morning, after just meeting with my accountant, with the intention of writing about tax crap. (Admit it, that's what it is.) I am fairly jubilant about not owing any money to IRS this year, Lord knows I've paid them frightening amounts of money in recent years.

Sitting here I realize how truly insignificant all that is, compared to what a family here in Central Florida is going through right at this moment...their daughter Nadia is 11 years old, and is a student at Freedom Ride, a place that provides therapy for mentally and physically disabled kids through horseback riding (I volunteer there). She has been described on the news as having a couple of different disabilities, I'm not sure exactly which is correct, but it's my understanding she is a highly functioning autistic young girl.

Nadia has been missing since Friday. She wandered into the woods by her house (they think) and has left no signs as to where she could be, or what could have happened.

I heard that her mother was so distraught that she prematurely delivered the baby she was carrying.  I simply cannot imagine how horrific this must be for her.

I'm praying for Nadia today, and for her family..."Dear Lord, please watch over Nadia as she continues to wander lost, keep her safe and calm, please watch over the volunteers that are searching for her and show them the way to her. Please comfort her family and friends, Lord Jesus, please allow them to feel your arms around them and your love.  Please bring Nadia home safely to her family. Amen."

If you are a praying person, would you please pray today too?

Too much to do...

Alright, well, my to-do list this morning is probably something similar to yours..it involves tasks ranging from the mundane (2-3 loads of laundry and a sinkful of dishes) to the mysterious (a note on my desk says "list college attending" and "note for Oldest Boy"), to the excruciating (an inbox full of receipts that need to be filed).

I have to go pick up prescription meds, buy more plastic hangers, return painters tape to Lowe's, and somewhere along the way decide what we are having for dinner...and defrost the meat that goes along with that menu.

I have an appointment here with my accountant tomorrow morning, need my office to be cleaned up for that (and xanax on a handy countertop to help with what he's sure to tell me), along with making sure bathrooms are clean, just in case he drank 2 cups of coffee on the way in, instead of 1.

I'm not a juggler. When God created me it's likely He did NOT say "I'll make her adept at handling several things at once."  He probably said "I should make her somewhat cute, so people will take pity on her and help her find her car when she loses it in parking lots."

I'm off to work on the list, should I lead off with the excruciating, or build up to it...perhaps I'll start with a little mystery first...

The dreaded weigh-in

Okay, so I know that when I say I need to lose 15 pounds, people roll their eyes and scoff.  It seems like a trivial amount to lose...skip a few margaritas and I'm there, right? Wrong-o.

15 pounds equals an entire closet of clothes that I cannot wear. Pants, jeans, shorts...you name it honey, and I can't zip it.  It equals the death of all the work I did last year...working out, not eating anything fun...because of the stupid meds I was on for 5 months.  All in vain, all for naught.  Dang.

Last night I was reduced to eating 3 egg whites for dinner, with a Weight Watcher popsicle for dessert. Unless you've been forced to eat straight egg whites before, you really can't know the joy of eating air, clouds, or cotton balls.  They are just THAT tasty and satisfying.

Why does this have to be so difficult? Why didn't the weight just fall back off when I stopped the meds?  Why can my darling husband eat chips and ice cream in bed every night and not gain an ounce? 

If anyone can provide these answers for me I'll be glad to whip up some dinner for you tonight..
.......you want hot sauce on your cotton balls?

Oldest boy

Oldest Boy brought home his graduation announcements yesterday...and I'm feeling pretty ____ about it. Insert your own word there, you can imagine how many are rolling around in my head right now.

I remember the day I told Hubby I was pregnant with him, we were both young (by today's standards, anyway), I was 22. Hubby wanted this child from the day we married 4 years prior. I wasn't ready at 18 to have a baby, but he was always ready to have a child of his own. Within 3 years I felt like I had enough wits about me to handle late night feedings, millions of diaper changes, facing the unknown (still wasn't completely prepared, but were you?).

The labor was long and difficult. *cue labor horror story* I went in to be induced on a Friday morning (Oldest Boy was 2 weeks late, I guess he liked the cushy digs), finally gave birth to him on Sunday morning. I was so freaking exhausted by then, after pushing for hours....I didn't have the strength to hold him for long. And seeing as how I hadn't eaten since Friday evening, really, I just needed some pancakes first.

The day we got home from the hospital with him, after my mother-in-law left and we were alone, Hubby and I both stood at the crib, looking at this tiny person and each other...it was a moment in my life I will never, ever forget.

Fast forward to the present. Recent arguments have caused me some significant heartache lately, Oldest Boy is learning to be a separate person from his mother, I guess. Of course I want him to be independent, self-sufficient, hard working, a good husband...all those things...but right now, in this moment, I just want to hold that tiny boy again.

How in the world is it April 2010, already?

I'm ashamed to say, it's been almost a year since I've been on my blog...lets see...a quick update might get me caught up.

1. Still have 4 energetic kiddos, one charming husband, one rotten cat.

2. Oldest boy graduating from high school in 2 months...my emotions running high on THAT.

3. Still studying to get into real estate...terrified of the test I have to take to be licensed.

4. Gained 15 pounds on meds the doctor gave me last year. Off the meds now, dieting. p.u.

5. Creating a renewed promise to try to get on here more.

And, that's it, in a nutshell. Short & sweet.


Coming soon...proms (2), graduation ceremony, preparing my baby for kindergarten *sniff*.

End of the school year...

So...my goal this summer is to get on my blog and create some witty writings at least three times a week. Of course, I'm going to feel victorious if I get on here three times during the whole summer, but that's neither here nor there.

The last couple of months have been a whirlwind of school projects, homework, teacher gifts, parties...it goes on and on. Sometimes I think that it's ME being graded on things for my boys, surely the teachers can't think that my children are doing all these things themselves.

It's "Teacher Appreciation Week" at Littleboy's school, and I tried to be as creative as possible with Miss C's gift. At one point she and I had discussed my husband's wonderful ability to make sushi for us at home. It's SO great that he makes it, really, it is...who has money to go out all the time in order to self-medicate with sushi?? She had said to me "Oh, how great for you, I wish I knew how to roll my own sushi!" So for her gifts, we have given her things to make her own sushi, different items on different days.

Today I sent in a book on how to make sushi, plus chopsticks, nori (seaweed), and a bag of rice. I neglected to think about how "easy" it would be for Littleboy to carry this to his class...a 5 pound bag seems light to me, but watching him carry it (along with the other gifts) did cause my husband and I to chuckle...poor little skinny kid.

Tomorrow is his class party, should be fun! (translation: should be loud, chaotic, and crazy-making). He is just as excited about it as I am!!! Maybe someone will be buying Xanax for the teacher as her end of the year gift....

Wish me luck on cracking open this blog more often...coming up soon: hubby and I paint the exterior of the house...I'm going to cause that man to weep with frustration, I'm sure.

OldestBoy

So, OldestBoy is on his second international trip (he went to Japan in November). He's in Florence, Italy today...sleeping as I type this (better be). His tour guide has posted a couple of pictures of the group, one a great group shot...the other a really out-of-focus picture of what I believe to be, high school kids riding in a gondola...or a camel floating on a beanbag..one of the two.

This child is going to see the Sistine Chapel...the Pope...Pompeii...everything I've always wanted to see, and hopefully will, one day. I hope he truly appreciates the "fantastical-ness" of this adventure he's having. I certainly do.

He's only going to be gone for 9 days total - it seems like it's an eternity. How in the world will I cope if he decides to live elsewhere to attend college? I think I'll lose my mind. It's not that I don't have plenty of kids around here to occupy my time...keep me hopping...create dirty laundry; but when one piece of this hectic puzzle is missing, things just aren't the same.

Sleep well, OldestBoy, your momma loves you so much (and really misses you alot).

So here I am...

...sitting in the new location for our office, and quietly reflecting on the tortured *heck* the last few weeks have been in this house. Yes, we DID move the pool table back up the stairs (the stairs have a turn at the landing, did I mention that before?), and we did move the big boys back downstairs...each into his own room. Littleboy and Babyboy now share a room, along with all their toys, and the office is back into it's original location.

I have cleaned every single closet in this house, removing bags and bags of clothes and toys to either be donated or sold. I have organized file cabinets, refolded towels and sheets, separated Legos from pirate warriors, climbed to dangerous heights (to me, anyway) on a ladder, restocked light bulbs, bought "mature" drapes (in lieu of Peter Rabbit drapes) and even bathed the cat.

Let's see...I've also replaced all the air conditioning filters, cleaned and organized my pantry, brought cupcakes to Littleboy's school, had a couple of meetings with the new accountant, and debated with the repairman about the humidity sensors in the (then) non-drying dryer.

The household budget has been reworked...somewhat (see: met with new accountant) and I learned that we will be perpetually broke. I've organized clothing and accoutrements for Oldestboy's trip to Italy this week, the ceiling fans have been dusted, snowboarding boots packed, and a dinner consisting of 450 gyoza (potstickers for Japanese folks) was pulled off without a hitch.

All this to say...if you happen to talk to me anytime soon, and ask me how I'm doing I'm going to say "I'm tired!"...and I'm really, really going to mean it.

Overwhelmed and "undermotivated"

A common topic of discussion lately seems to be how overwhelmed my girlfriends and family members are. I've been waking up every morning with a ton of things hanging over my head. Part of me hopes I'll be able to get to them all, but another part of me knows..."ain't no way I'm gonna finish".

Just this morning I was taking a stroll around the yard with the fella who mows my lawn. (Hubby can't do it (he's working all the time), Oldesboy and Middleboy are swamped with schoolwork and crew...and I just don't have time...so it's an expense we've managed to work with.) He was showing me the spots of crabgrass that need to be dealt with, and telling me what kind of somethings I have to put into the spreader-thingy and push around the yard. I think I got what he said, I know my eyes glazed over a couple of times, but I think I got the gist of it. Now, while I have the funds to pay "lawn fella" to come once a week, I can't afford to get any extras with him. The weeding, trimming trees, etc., all fall to me.

Lawn fella is walking and pointing and telling me to get the rake out and rake a couple of bad spots, "Or, you can pull these sections out by hand"...and I'm thinking in my head "When exactly am I going to have TIME to do this?" I have weeding to do, the trees need to be trimmed, my screened porch and pool are just a mess from the winter...but then there's the taxes, the new self-employed health insurance issues to straighten out, and the afore-mentioned moving of rooms.

Oh, and don't forget that Oldestboy needs help going through the maze of paperwork in order to apply for every college scholarship under the sun, Middleboy's backpack needs replacing and I think the oil needs changing in two of the three cars.

*sigh* I'm overwhelmed, I tell you. I keep making to-do lists after to-do lists, and the piece of paper now becomes two pieces. Maybe one day, when the kids are all grown and out, and Hubby is retired, I'll get to it...or not.

We're moving furniture...

AGAIN.

Lately Middleboy has been saying that he doesn't like having his bedroom upstairs in our bonus room. He shares the space with Oldestboy, and it's a pretty large area. They have bookshelves and dressers, an entertainment center with all the xbox accessories, a desk, and about 15,000 books full of Pokemon cards from when they were 10 and 8.

Oh, that and 10 tons of clothes that they don't wear, yet don't want to get rid of.

*big, big sigh*

Since Hubby is now working at home, we need to move his work area into the bigger room downstairs that currently houses the pool table and full-size drum set. It has french doors, a wooden floor, etc...much more professional looking. (Right now hubby is working in the spare bedroom that has a Crayola ceiling fan and glow-in-the-dark stars all over the ceiling.)

So, to summarize, here's what's going to go down:

1. Move Oldestboy bed and dresser down to bedroom number 2.
2. Move Middleboy down to (well, the hallway at first).
3. Move office out of bedroom number 3.
4. Move Middleboy into bedroom number 3.
5. Move pool table upstairs into bonus room (yes, upstairs, can you stinking believe THAT?)
6. Move office over to current pool table room.
7. Move desk set from upstairs down into office.
8. Empty all closets, and move accessories with applicable owners of said accessories.

And that should take me, what, 9 years???

So, for those of you that are planning wonderful spring break trips this year, I'd like you to, please, remember me, and stop by on your way out of town...we're moving that pool table Tuesday at noon...