Monday, February 25, 2008

I'm not listening.

On the 'you can't make this up' front, I went to the doctor last week to have a physical. That's right. I'm taking care of ME. Can you believe it? The truth is, I've had stomach problems my whole life. Huge embarrassing, umm.. gaseous issues among other things. So, I sucked it up and went to the doctor. To find out what I could to about my self diagnosed 'nervous stomach'. Turns out, there is a lot I can do, but before I get to that I'd like to share with you a tidbit from my actual appointment, wherein the good doctor and I are discussing my craziness (a sidenote: my period, while normal physically has made me a complete wreck emotionally so I was trying to see if I could do something to make me..ahh less crazy, more me.)
Dr. Goodintentions MD: Have you been sleeping.

Me(fighting the urge to laugh outright): no more or less than normal.

Dr. GD, MD: I see, and how about your libido?

Me(again, fighting the urge to laugh, unsuccessfully, I let a little snicker out) umm

Dr. GD, Md: I mean your sex life. (ok, seriously, she thought I was laughing because I misunderstood? Did she assume I thought she meant a flamboyant piano player?)

Me:I know what you meant, I just was formulating a response that did not make me sound so...

Dr. GD, Md: (nods sympathetically) It's hard to get back into a groove after having children, so many women aren't interested at all..
(she goes on in this vein until I stop her)
Me: Let me just say, that this is not a problem, me being a raving loony is the problem.

Dr. GD, MD: I see well, your husband may think differently.

I give up and let her lecture me on intimacy and all sorts of other things until finally she winds down, then just when I think we're moving on to another subject,
Dr. GD, Md: He's not a senior citizen is he?


Dr. Gd, md: your husband.

Ok, what the heck, did I fall down Alice's rabbit hole into the doctors office? I said nothing about having any sort of sexual dysfunction and while I'm on the subject, Do I look like the sort of girl who marries a senior citizen? Because not only did my doctor ask me this, but my tax lady also asked if my husband was drawing his social security yet.

Time for a serious makeover, cuz either I look like a girl next door or a senior citizen myself.

IN other news, I haven't blogged or read blogs for over a week, because I've actually been working that's right WORKING on one of my new ideas. I'm hoping to get a lot done this week because MIKE IS ON VACATION!! Woooo hoooo! I did want to catch up via blog because I wanted to let you know the good news, one of my writing buddies Jenny Gardiner has a brand spanking new book out, Sleeping with Ward Cleaver. It's funny and wonderful and it was a long hard road for her to get published, it's selling at WAL-MART which is a huge deal for writers and if you are so inclined please pick it up. Hopefully I will be giving away an autographed book at some point, I'll keep you posted, Which brings me to very very exiting news.
In lieu of the brownie reviews I will be doing MONTH OF CONTESTS in march, every week there will be a giveaway and all you have to do is post a comment and you could win, some of the prizes will be superfun, I will be posting excerpts from The ditz gets it done, and you just have to say YEAH that's awesome or eww that sucks. Some great friends of my blog will be giving away autographed books and there will be some Authors favorite things. So, lots of exiting things.
PS, I can't do the brownie reviews because my sugar intake has been limited, I am sad, and we should all have a moment of silence for Hersheys who may go out of business without my support. Have a great week! R

Friday, February 15, 2008

It's not you, it's you.

It's not a huge state secret that I dated ALOT before I met Mike, fell in love and settled down. Especially now that I'm blogging it. Even though it's the day after Valentine's Day I wanted to say a few things about fate and how we end up where we are in life. I never thought I would be as happy as I am with my life.
I didn't expect to be miserable and lonely or maybe I did. I think what really happened is I didn't really allow myself to be happy. It's tremendously hard to be a child of divorce, because you will always be uncertain. You will always hold a little part of yourself back, wondering and waiting for the bottom to fall out. I had a V. bad attitude about dating, marriage and love in general. So, I kind of had an unspoken rule that I would pretty much go out with anyone who asked once barring an arrest warrent or prision tatoos. FYI, this is a horrible idea and I would not recommend it to anyone.
This is how I ended up going on dates with guys who forgot their wallets, guys who didn't have a valid drivers liscense, guys who were just plain mean and stupid. Of course it's also how I ended up going out with Mike.
I'd reached a point where I was fed up with the whole thing. I was young, naive and utterly convinced that I was too ugly and weird to find someone really good.
But, I think God knows when you are at the end of your rope. He knows it's darkest before the dawn. Barely six months out of an abusive, unhealthy and disfunctional relationship, I met Mike. I remember the very first time I saw him. I won't lie and say there were fireworks, but his eyes, wow, just Wow.
It took him over six weeks to ask me out, 'hey, if we're going to get married, we should see a movie or something' I know, what a smoothie, right? The rest, to coin a phrase, is history.
He's the funniest, the smartest, the most kind guy I know. We married young, and we are both children of divorce, so the odds are heavily against us. We know that, and we deal with it alot.
But I really do love him, and I know there are people who say love isn't enough, but to me, it's more than enough. I know the kind of love I have with Mike is a gift. It's a gift from a benevolent and loving God who heard a little girls prayers. It's a gift I will never take lightly, because I know He only trusts us with the gifts we can handle.
So, on Valentine's Day and every day, be thankful for your Gift.
Happy Valentine's Friends. R

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Leave me alone heathens!

OK just to be clear as mud, this is my sister(the picture!) and although I would love to pretend I'm sixteen and cute as hell, (for maybe seven seconds) I will not pretend this hottie is me, so you ruffians who are emailing me in vain to find out if I want to, you know, uh , talk and stuff, IT"S. NOT. ME. It's my baby sister and she's becoming a nun. So there.
In other news, my kids are BSC today. I seriously think they may have been bitten by spider monkeys when we were at the zoo, and are having some kind of delayed spiderman-type reaction. I worry about the little angels sometimes.
I would love to see the world thru their eyes.
from the mind of my adorable one year old boy: Oh look, Mommy is sitting down to answer emails and enjoy her breakfast, is it just me or does she look like a jungle gym? Mommy, Mommy, MOmmy, LOOK at me, I'm climbing up your free arm. OH, hey thanks, half your toast. MMMMM, Ok, done with that, mommy, don't look now, but I'm experimenting with clogging the toliet, are these shoes nice?
from the mind of his equally adorable sister who is two, and only slightly to smart for her own good:Oh, hey,mommy is sitting down with food and drink, I Love drink, and although I can communicate better than my twenty three year old uncle I think I will grunt and point because it drives mom crazy and what is more fun than driving mom crazy. Oh, the grunting is not working, maybe screaming? Look at that brady is shoving high heels in the toliet, this should be good...
When they are not running up astronomical plumbing bills they were climbing me like Everest today. I do need to loose weight if I'm comparing myself to a practically insurmountable mountain. Have a great deigh..(no spell checkHEHE)

Monday, February 11, 2008

The real MOMs diet of guilt worry and leftovers.

OK, I think I figured out why my links don't work. So I will hopefully be able to remedy this particular snafu, but if not, then bear with me. It should only take me a year and a half to figure out what, exactly I'm doing wrong and consult my sixteen year old sister, Jessica, to help me fix it. Coincidentally, the only reason my MySpace page functions like a well oiled machine is Jessica, so thanks, Jess!
I think I have mentioned my love of reading one or possible two(and a half million) times, but I will mention it once again, because this blog starts with another blog, don't ask me which one, I'm not totally sure. The point being, someone's blog was talking about WAHMs( work at home Moms) which I have to say, I much prefer to SAHM (stay at home Moms) I think the first implies more of what we actually do, while the second is, while true, much more passive and bon-bon eating sounding. I would just like to shout out to all the WAHMs out there. I have worked outside of the home on and off since I've had my brood, but this is the longest I've gone without an outside job, and I know I've never worked this hard. I still hate it when someone asks, 'Do you work?'
'No, I park my kids in front of Spongebob, smoke marlboro lights and plan my next toga party'
that's what I want to say. But I don't. Possibly it's manners, possibly I don't think people would get my sense of humor.
On the brownie review front we are at a small stand still while I try to decide which diet to attempt before my next foray onto the MD scale. (at least I'm not beached whale preggers, but that just means I have no excuse.) I will say my friend Tracy recommended some vitabrownies, I just have to locate and purchase, so I can see just how vitaliscious said brownies actually are.
We'll keep you updated.
The diet that has always been most sucessful for me in the past is, of course, weight watchers, because, if I've got to climb on a scale in front of a skinny senior citizen every week, I will put down the donut, but if I have no one but Mike and myself to be accountable to, I shove it in.
My reasoning, while flawed, is this, I NEVER sit down, how can I not always be burning calories.
(This is only partly true, BTW, I do sit down, in the car, at least twice a day.) I also do several other Mom-specific excercises.
the toddler relay-the act of loading one or more toddler in the car while siblings either a) scream at door or b) toss stuff at you from the other car seats and/or c) demand things you forgot as soon as you put car in gear. My guess is while I usually break a sweat doing this, the calorie equivalent is roughly that of one corn flake.
the nite-nite bait and switch-this is where, I run up and down the steps fifteen times to calm down, soothe, get water for, break up viscous sibling fracas, and finally scream, 'GO TO SLEEP! IF I HAVE TO COME UP HERE AGAIN, THAT'S IT!!' not exactly sure what 'it' is, I make at least two more trips in an attempt to not have to come up with 'it'.
the 'I loose 25 lbs every time I sit him down'- I carry around a 25 pound chunkey monkey for at least 47 hours a day, that's gotta add some muscle, right?
Hope every one has a great week. love....and lettuce...r

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Shaking hands with the sheriff.

Soooo, I've been doing some thinking.
Not really, but it sounds intelectual and introspective to begin with this particular sentence, so..I did. Also, i know I'm spelling stuff wrong and IT KILS MI THAT I CN"T CHEK IT>...Ok, enough about spelchk. hehe. My friend Heather, who is a very lovely and sweet girl blogged the other day that she and her husband got..ahem, caught in the act, of you know..well doing stuff.
Anyway, several people had commented that they had also, in fact, been caught by their children and I just have to say..WOW does this make me feel better. I won't go into details (I think my parents read my blog sporadically so eww..)but Keegan sometimes asks about me and her Dad bumpy bellies..Oh when she gets older and realizes. I still remember walking in on my parents when I was just wee. But I'm sure it's much more clear to them. Which brings me to why I was thinking. I was thinking What is the biggest mistake I make with my kids?
Is it loosing my temper? Not being strict enough with time outs?
Spoiling them?
I really don't know. You can bet they'll figure it out and let me know sometime around puberty. I'm not holding my breath.
ON to other, more chocolatey things.
Duncan Hines Chocolate Lovers Chocolate chunk brownies..
Well, they were better, although, as a post script to last post, MIKE said he like the caramel in the turtle brownies. just to let you know for a manly perspective.
I'm going to go a 5 or possibly 6 out of 10, and I'll tell you why.
The dough sucked. I know raw egg, salmonella ahhh death, but I don't eat all the batter, I just want a lick or two, but this dough was icky.
Is it possible I'm tired of brownies? well, I've got at least two more reviews, so we'll see.
But for this one, R'll do in a chocolate emergency.
M them while they're hot.
OK, other reminders and various news..Manic Mommy is having a if you're interested in some free books, get ovah there and show some love. If my link does not work, she is on my links list and hopefully that one will.
Don't forget to vote, but I see a trend in the mommy sick day being the favorite!

Monday, February 4, 2008

Just until my rap career takes off.

That's right, I've decided what I want to do with my life. Thank you E! entertainment televisions and Forbes Top 20 Hip Hop High Rollers (or something like that).
I am going to release a nice rap album with a catchy hook, so I can get all those downloads and then I'll parlay that into a clothing line/crunk drink/luxury car rental entreprenueresque something something.
I mean, the number 20 guy earned something like 10 million.
It'll be a great gimic, the rappin' momma, look for it soon on Itunes.
NOW, on to brownier business.
The first (un)official Chocolate meth reviews are in and it does not look good.
Ghiradelli Caramel Turtle Brownies are around 2.50 a box (which is steep for mix it yourownself brownies, IMO) and they could only possibly have less chocolate flavor if they were not chocolate.
This makes me sad :(.
Waste of an egg actually.
I will say this, the problem (for me) may have also been the prescence of walnut, which is not my favority brownie nut, I'm more pecans in brownies, but I will plow ahead.
It should also be noted that brownies generally only last about 24 hours total in our house, these lasted the entire weekend and then I took pity and (gasp!) fed them to the cat.
Tomorrow isDuncan Hines Double Chocolate Chocolate- lovers which were only 1.78 at Wal-Mart so hopefully in this case cheaper will be better.
Now, for my third and final choice for the Erma Bombeck Writing contest.
The irreversible evolution of panties starts young. I can already see the sad signs of undergarment preoccupation in my five year old, who flat out refuses to wear Days of the Week underwear that do not match said calendar day. These are the things that can make or break potty-training. This is not about underwear for the wee ones; however, it’s about big girl underwear. More accurately, the evolutions of said undies.
When I was dating my beloved, I literally collected underwear. All kinds of frilly and frothy wisps of lace and satin. You may think I’m kidding, but into our first apartment we moved something like seven hundred pair of panties. Addicted to the adorable I was, but then, the inevitable occurred, I got pregnant.
I was thrilled, I was ecstatic, I was unaware the state of underneath my clothes was about to drastically change. Never one of those women who simpered over a salad under normal conditions, I took to pregnancy the way an elephant might. Eating roughly the weight of a pachyderm each day, I became well versed in the weight gain joy of pregnancy.
The tiny thongs were the first to go. I couldn’t bear to part with them, so I simply packed them away for after.
Fast forward six years, three pregnancies and timeless hours spent nursing later, I couldn’t find those thongs with a map and a handy-dandy thong locator (if such a thing exists, I doubt it’s been invented, men would much rather stand in line to volunteer for this position).
I can however, locate quite a few pair of sensible cotton ‘granny panties’. I, for a while, referred to them laughingly as my ‘fat panties.’ I am well aware that my betrothed is fondly reminiscent of the bygone days of the thong, but I ignore it, reasoning that well, one day they will surely return. And they have, in bits and spurts; I’ve added some cute panties back into the mix. But to be perfectly honest, I like my fatpanties. They are comfy; they don’t squeeze, chafe, or disappear into sensitive parts of my anatomy.
Of course I miss her, the vampy vixen whose bra always matched her panties, but let’s face it, she’s got lasagnas to make and carpooling to do, she can’t be stopping every ten minutes to dig, push and adjust. Until my children are grown and I get some serious plastic surgery, she may just have to make do with frump more often than not.

This one is one of my favorite shorts, but I'm not sure it's right.
Let me know what you think..R