Mom to the Screaming Masses

Sick/under the weather/not feeling well

Basically, dying.

I think it's telling that I'm the only one in my family who didn't receive a flu shot, and I'm the only one shivering in 73 degrees with a sweater on, bone exhausted and coughing my lungs up every minute or so.  I've been mainlining Emergen C all day, and nada.

Help. 

Send a maid, send chicken soup - the chicken and dumplings I made aren't cutting it - send nyquil in a jumbo bottle.

I don't feel so good, and I'm going to bed. 

Typed at 6:45 p.m. - how lame is that?

A mistake of epic proportions

We've decided, The Hubster and myself, to paint the interior of our house.  Most of it hasn't ever been painted.  The new construction, of course, was painted last year when it was built.  The front room and dining room we painted ourselves two years ago, and the main room downstairs we painted after the great water damage event - which occurred during the construction.  Whoo, boy, that was a fun time. 

We have company coming the end of this month, and I'd really like to have my house looking a bit better than it does right now.  One of the major things that needed to be fixed is the (lack of) paint.  We did the big girls room this weekend. It's a nice light yellow, which goes well witht he purple bedspreads that they have.  (It doesn't sound like it would, but it does.  Take my word for it.)  It took a long time, we got a TON of dirt out of there, and bags for the thrift store.  Don't I keep doing this?  If I take a lot of stuff out of there, how does it get back?

Mission Monday

Well, that was a fun weekend.  I have to confess that I did absolutely NOTHING that was on my list today.  It's all The Hubster's fault.  After church, he could see that I was feeling a little, shall we say, stressed, and so he took all.six.kids bowling for three hours.  THREE hours. I finished the 12th Evanovich book - whoot, that was a fun ride! - and then went to the mall.  By myself.  I bought shoes and unmentionable stuff and tried on dress after dress, but didn't really see one that I liked.  I was looking for a dress to wear on the cruise, just a casual type dress.  I found one I really liked at B. Moss, and I tried it on (it was a size EIGHT!  Holy cow, I almost passed out!), but I'd need to alter the top and I didn't feel like doing that.  What a strange feeling it was to go into Gap, H&M, Old Navy, Limited and Banana Republic and try on clothes in size 8 and 10.  I haven't shopped seriously for clothes in a while - the last time I was in Jjill, and their clothes run big, so I always wear a smaller size.  This was such a fun trip, despite the fact that I didn't get a dress.  It was nice to be there and not feel frumpy and fat and invisible.  And I was ALONE.   

Yeah, and then I corrupted it by eating more than sane tonight for dinner, and having about a dozen cookies. I surely know how to celebrate a good clothing trip, eh? Tomorrow should be swell.

So let's go to the Mission.

Confession is good for the soul, right?

Right?

Over at Notes from the Trenches, Chris has posted some deep, dark, heartfelt confessions.  Things that she's confessing to, in order to clear her soul.  I thought I might do the same, seeing as how it's a Friday, and that's close to Saturday, which is typical Catholic confession day.

Which reminds me, now I know what I'm doing tomorrow morning...

Anywho, confession #1 - I overuse my caller ID.  I check it before each and every call, and unless I REALLY want to talk to someone, I let the voice mail answer it.  (Except you.  Not you, never you.  I always want to talk to you.  And Elizabeth, I KNOW I still owe you a phone call.  This weekend, babes.)

#2 - My seven year old cannot tie his shoes yet.  And I don't care.

#3 - I will (often) leave my littles in their jammies all day.  Not so much now that I'm working, but when I'm not, it's pj city.

#4 - I complain mightily that The Hubster gives the kids so much candy, chips and ice cream - when I NEVER EVER give those things - but I really don't care. 

#5 - I just like to give him a hard time.  If you knew him, you'd understand.  (And, look, if you DO know him and DON'T understand, don't let me know.)

Cooking with Gabriel

Right before Christmas break, Gabriel came home with a large manila envelope.  It was decoratedwith bright colors and he had written on it. "TOP SECRET!  Do not open, do not look!  This means you, Mom!"

So I didn't peek, and I didn't even shake it.  Much.

When I was finally able to open it, I discovered an extremely well made cookbook, starring his classmates and his teacher.  It was, without a doubt, one of my favorite presents and it was the funniest thing I've ever seen.  HIs teacher suggested several foods, and she had the students create their own versions.

Witness his picture and his recipe is below - his real, honest to God recipe: 

You talk to your mother with that mouth?

When I was at work today, I made a mistake and did a few things kind of weirdly. (Like tying my apron up higher, so that I could hope to keep the water off of my boobs.  Yeah, it looked weird, but it keeps me dry and that's all I care about.  I laughed them off, as I usually do, with a comment along the lines of, "Well, it's because I'm stupid."  And I laughed.  Poking fun at myself in a joking way. 

Later on, I thought about what I'd said.  I make fun of myself all of the time.  The way I see it, I say it before the other person has a chance to say it.  Right?

But I remembered something that I'd seen, something credited to Mariel Hemingway when she was part of a section on Oprah.  I often have Oprah on in the background - I don't pay close attention, but I catch about half of it.  Oprah was talking with her about self love, and Hemingway said something that's resonated with me for a few days. Mariel said that she had a bad habit of talking negatively about herself, saying things like "dummy" and "stupid" and "You are so fat".  Oh, ouch.  How many times have I said those same things?   How many times do I look in the mirror and cringe?  In jest, how many times do I poke fun at myself so that others won't?

Mariel Hemingway said that she'd never speak to a friend in the way that she spoke to herself, and she made a vow to never do so again.  I'm thinking it's a move I need to make.  What stops me from this is my fear of being thought "self-centered" or "snotty", that I think I'm so much better than everyone else.

It's tough line to balance - do you have any success at striking success on the balance beam?

Can you help?

I'm applying for a writing gig.  (Again.  I'm thinking that the twelveth time MUST be the charm, eh?)

I need to supply four essays and that's where you all come in.  What have you read here that you really loved/hated/nodded in sympathy to/commiserated with?  Do you have an entry that I wrote that you just love?

Play along with me here, ok?  I'd really appreciate it, and so would my checkbook.

By the same token, you can tell me what you think I should NEVER apply to write about.  I'm contemplating either a large family/parenting slot or something to do with weight loss. You can use the search button that's on the side over there, or just give me the idea behind the entry and I'll do my best to locate it.  I've got a few ideas rumbling around - oh, wait, that might be my dinner......

Mission Monday

Man.  How did it get to be Monday again ALREADY?  Helllllooooo, where did this past week go?

Last week and the week before, I spent Sunday afternoon cooking foods for the week ahead.  By Sunday evening, almost all of the food was gone.  Today I wised up and made something that only I like.  Sausage Bean soup.  Yum, Yum.  Slice up a pound or so of italian sausage, toss in some minced garlic and some chopped onion.  When it's all browned, add in two cans each of black beans, butter beans, beef broth and chopped tomatoes.  As soon as the soup is hot, you can eat it.  Top it with fresh shredded parmesan.

So, yeah, no one else will eat it, which means that I have lunch for the week made.  Yay me.  I also made a version of rice krispy treats, but I used Trader Joe's super nutty granola instead.  Breakfast bars for me, along with a banana and the ever present coffee. 

Now that I've thoroughly bored you, let's get straight to today's Mission, shall we?

Ouch

I went running this morning.  I haven't been running out of the house since I started work, preferring to run on the treadmill before I leave the house.  Also, it's been freezing here. 

(Freezing being relative - it rarely gets into the teens here, and almost never into the single digits. But this week it was in the 20's in the morning and that's just too cold for me to go out.)  So I've been in the comfort and warmth of the home environment. It's also been rainy and snowy/sleety/icy for about a week. 

But today it was clear and pretty cold, but it just FELT like a good day to run.  i like to run when it's cold out - it makes you move faster.  I suited up and Riley begged to go out with me, so I dressed her warmly. I sat her in the jogger and covered her with a blanket - which she promptly kicked off.  Lather, rinse, repeat, until she finally agreed to stay covered.  Tossing in some books and ponies, I closed the weather shield and off we went.

Funny of the day

Caution:  Copious use of the word "vagina" - if you are male and/or easily offended, you might just want to skip this post and come back tomorrow...

Earlier this week I had to go to the midwife for my yearly female checkup.  I had to take my two youngest with me, and the question came up from one of them (identity concealed to protect the innocent, since I'm sure this may come back to haunt her later in life) as to the reason for my visit.  "Why are you giong to the doctor?  What do you need?"  I evaded answering the questions for quite a while, but finally I said, "I'm going to get a checkup."  "A checkup of what?"  "Just, never mind.  A check up for me."  The unidentified child kept on and kept on - man, she's persistent, she'll make a great lawyer some day - and I eventually said, "I'm going to get a vagina checkup, ok?"

She pondered that for a while and was silent.

At the visit, all went well - we spoke about many topics, including my neglect of the mammogram recommended LAST YEAR -  and then she asked if she could give the girls a gift.  She gave them small pocketbooks filled with candy. 

When we got home from picking up the big kids, one of the older girls asked the origin of the pocketbooks.  The unidentified child piped up and said, "We got them from the Vagina Doctor!"

And then when we went to daycare the next day, she asked me if, pretty please, she couldn't bring her Vagina Purse to show all her friends.  I could only imagine THAT conversation when the other kids got home and told their parents about their day.