Bleh...

My blogging has gotten seriously pushed down on the list lately... I really need to make more of an effort to put it back up towards the top.

So much is happening here lately, that by time it's quiet time around here, all I can do is veg.

But that is all changing.

Today, I ordered a juicer. After watching the documentary Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead, I am taking the plunge and making the commitment to go on a juice cleanse using raw veggies and fruits. I'm starting out with mini goals, and am hoping to go through to 90 days. I need more energy, I still have some residual baby weight and since my doctor pissed in my cheerios and I can't work out, this seems to be a healthy way to jump start my new healthier lifestyle that I am aiming for with my kids.

Actually, the beast is kind of the inspiration. He isn't really a big fan of meat, so we tend to only eat it 2-3 times per week. And whenever I tell someone that my 4 year old doesn't like meat, they look at me like I'm crazy. I, personally, don't think it's that weird. I'm not an idiot, and have researched healthy lifestyles for some time now, so I'm aware that animal protein isn't the best for our human bodies. In fact there are so many scary things associated with milk that it put me off of it for good. Apparently, cow's milk can actually help tumors grown at an accelerated rate. Um. No Thanks.

So, the Monday after Easter, the juicing begins. Technically, I'll be juicing for breakfast and lunch once I get the juicer in a kind of preparation for the juice feast, but come April 9th, it's on like Donkey Kong. And next week I'm finally able to incorporate some light working out into my life, so things should be moving along nicely. Hopefully.

I'm not going to lie... I'm scared crapless. Lots of changes coming my way! Including a new dining room table, new sewing table and new desk... Including a whole new redesigned space to go with it all... Here's hoping it all works out well... Pictures to come!!

Anything to keep busy while the hubs is away!

What Happened To Parenting?

Real parenting? Sit-at-the-table-till-you-finish-your-food, parenting? I can remember falling asleep sitting at the table because I didn't want to eat meatloaf.

Don't get me wrong, I'm totally guilty of going to easy on my kid, and letting him do what he wants, within reason. I'm definitely not NEAR as strict as my parents were. And I regret that. I think I need to change some things up. Just because my world has to revolve around the military, doesn't mean I should get to slack off.

I think it's time to outline some new rules around here. The beast used to have specific chores that were his and changed as he got older and was able to handle more stuff. Ever since I got pregnant with Gigantor, that has fallen by the wayside. The rules that were in place have become mere suggestions now that my energy is zapped by the 2 little ones. I think tonight, I'm gonna have to sit down with a pen and paper and set up some goals for myself when it comes to what priorities I have and what can stay a little more relaxed.

And I see a crafting project in my future... A laminated weekly calendar for the Beast with pictures of specific chores for each day of the week that have a Velcro backing so they can be interchangeable... Tomorrow is a new day... And pretty soon, my ornery child who doesn't listen will be a beautiful little stepford-child who is seen and not heard...

A girl can dream, can't she?

Wow! It's been awhile!

So much has happened since I last posted... I had a baby, I finally got around to making the house more a home, and my husband left for the sunny Middle East... And finally, I can relax!

Gigantor showed up on January 14th weighing in at 8lbs even and 19 1/2 in long... After some crazy complications on my end, I was finally released from the hospital four and a half days after I got there. Then came the ever crazy barrage of parents coming in to visit the new baby. And it goes on and on and on...

But finally, I can let my hair down.... It won't go very far because I chopped it all off after having Gigantor, but it's down none the less.

OK, let's get real. I can't let my hair down. I still have 2 kids who are constantly up my ass. Today for instance, is grocery day. As I type this, I'm supposed to be cleaning out my fridge and getting rid of stuff for the serious amount of food coming in. And I mean serious. When it's just me here with the kids, I stock up like I'm preparing for a natural disaster. I like to only have to go to the store like every three weeks or so, barring the occasional milk run. Or cheese run. That's pretty important too.

After the grocery shopping of epic proportions, its home again for me, where I'll prepare all my food for the week and put all my meals and snacks away so I can just grab and go. Which is important because I'll be spending my nights this week making superhero capes and masks and making everything to turn my freshly decorated house into a superheros wet dream... Which is probably inappropriate because it's a birthday party for a four year old, but whatever. I'm an inappropriate kind of person. I'm OK with it.

I'll post pictures of everything when I sit down at the computer later because, let's face it, I'm not here for anything other than procrastinating on the things I SHOULD be doing... Oh well.

Probably total TMI...

I hate being pregnant. For many reasons. Today, though, probably takes the cake.

**Warning: Lots of vagina talk ahead!!**

Shaving becomes a massive pain in the ass when you're pregnant. I'm not talking about your armpits. That's easy. Everything south of your belly button is the problem. You can't see, you can't bend, and lets face it, you don't have motivation to be in the shower longer than 5 minutes.

That's why your vagina ends up looking like a Peruvian jungle. Maybe it's just me. If so, I don't care. I have no shame. I don't think it is though. I think lots of pregnant people out there pretend to keep up with the hoo-hoo grooming just to save face. No one wants to be THAT guy.

I don't care. I'll be that guy. As I recently described to a friend of mine, shaving in the no-no zone while in your 3rd trimester requires the use of a fog free mirror and the National Guard. You can't see a damn thing. And your blindly scraping a sharp ass instrument over the most sensitive part of your body. No thanks. Isn't it bad enough that a flippin' human being is going to come out of there soon enough? You'd think, that since we have to be pregnant and all, God would stop the hair growth for us. But no. We get to pay for a crime that happened at the beginning of time. I DIDN'T EAT THE DAMN APPLE!!!! And technically, if Jesus died for our sins, then wouldn't that erase Eve's sins, therefore letting us off the hook? I've always wondered about that. Anyway, that's a topic for another day. Hairy vaginas are the topic of today.

So today, I realized that things were getting uncomfortably out of control down south. Both my legs and my hoo-hoo were ridiculously hairy. Something had to be done. After trimming down the excess (I told you it was bad. I didn't want to clog the tub drain. Explain that hairball to a plumber.) I hopped in the shower and hoped for the best. I have no idea what the end result is. I can't see it. And I didn't want to examine it in the mirror. I would imagine it isn't pretty. But it's much more comfortable, so I must have done something somewhat right.

I don't plan on doing this again until I'm coming up on my due date. It's incredibly stressful, and requires a lot of creative bending that they don't teach you in yoga. But I'll do it right before my due date. I don't care about pooping on the table, but I definately don't want nurses and doctors judging my vagina. That's embarrassing.

4:05am... And here I am... Awake...

with heartburn. I hate heartburn. This is the third time this week that I have awakened to nastiness in my esophagus. And the second night in a row that the beast had night terrors. 2:15 like clockwork, he woke up screaming. Thankfully, he went back to bed immediately, but it definitely scared the be-jeezus out of me.

The worst part is, I have no one to blame but myself.

I scare my child. I don't mean that I yell at him until he quivers and trembles, or beat him senseless, or anything like that. Essentially, I lie to him and.... exaggerate situations so that he listens. I see nothing wrong with this. I mentioned before his fear of the Easter Bunny. It started out harmless enough. We went to the mall to get a picture of him with the giant bunny. He was excited. Until it was our turn. The beast didn't realize that the bunny was alive. When the Easter Bunny reached out his arms to hold the beast on his lap, chaos ensued. The situation ended when my just-turned-three son picked up a pink, glittery decorative egg and chucked it at the Easter Bunny with all his might and then ran screaming from the little fake cottage area. Needless to say, we didn't get the picture.

Anyway, my mom felt really bad for him... Her poor poopy-head and all. ((She's called him that since birth... Ironically, it has nothing to do with actual poo.)) I saw a golden opportunity. One day the beast was being particularly beastly. And before I knew it, I told him the Easter Bunny was upstairs hiding under mommy's bed waiting to come get him if he didn't start listening. And it worked. The kid hid under a blanket on the couch watching his shows quietly. He got up only to pee. Ever since that day, the Easter Bunny has been the boogy man of our house. The story has gotten more elaborate. Eventually he got so scared that we had to promise him that the police had locked up the Easter Bunny in jail. Now we tell him that the police will let him out if he's bad. So we've instilled a healthy dose of fear of police to our 3 year old. Great.

But that isn't why my child has had night terrors the last two nights.

Yesterday, we made a quick run to Wal-Mart. As in the usual Wal-Mart manner, four of their 30 lanes were open, and the lines were wrapped back into the clothing section. A very nice employee glanced in my cart, saw my 7 items and told me to go check out in the jewelry dept. My kind of service. I hauled ass over there, hoping no one overheard her tell me we could check out there and inadvertently beat me to the oasis that would allow me to get out of there quickly. And damned if someone didn't beat me there. So while we stood waiting our turn, the beast was checking out the Halloween section that was just across the aisle. Up on top of the shelves was this giant yard inflatable of a spooky house with trees and ghost all around. Here's how the conversation went down.

Beast: Look, Mommy, a Halloween house!
Me: Yeah! And look at all the scary ghosts!
Beast: Those ghosts aren't scary.
Me: Those ghosts work here.
Beast: Nuh-uh.
Me: Yup. When kids are bad, they fly down from the tree and eat their faces off. Then they chop off the bad children's feet and send them to jail for the Easter Bunny to eat them.
Beast: Oh no.
Me: Yup... On Halloween, you'll see the kids who were bad in the store. They have to wear masks cuz the ghosts ate their faces off.
Beast: I'm going to be a pirate for Halloween. ((at this point his eyes will not leave the display))
Me: Yup... So you better be good because we didn't get you a mask. And if you don't have a face, you can't go trick or treating.
Beast: Mommy, can we go home?

The guy in front of me was laughing so hard he had tears, and he gave the cashier the wrong amount of money. The cashier stared at me in stunned belief. The look on her face told me everything. While she was amused at the situation, she clearly did not agree with my parenting style. Not that I cared. It worked. He was good in the store. What's a little fear when you can get through a Wal-Mart trip unscathed?

And now he has night terrors and I have heartburn.

Thank you, Karma... You've been very helpful this week. Hopefully we get along better next week.

Just Another Day In Paradise!

Today started out like any other day... I stumbled out of bed some where around 10 am... ((The beast woke up last night and stayed up till roughly 2 ish... He slept in this morning, thank GOD!)) I made coffee... I ate toast... I ate Fruity Pebbles... I CityVilled... I laid on the couch and watched the View. Things were good.

Then I started watching the Chew. God I love that show. While thinking about the inevitable commissary run in my future, I decided to check my bank account to make sure my car insurance had gone through. I have been paying my bills online for a long time, and yet every time one is due to come out, I still check. You'd think I'd get over it.

Thank God I haven't.

Much to my surprise, our account balance was scary low. Like, so low we would be royally FU--..... Screwed.... So I begin scanning the account details thinking that my husband was going to be getting a serious ass-kicking... And lo and behold, it's not my husband's fault. ((Much to his relief, let me add.)) Our account was hacked, and some idiot charged $150 to a Video Game and Arcade store in Seattle, Washington. We live in NC... Doesn't get much farther away than that. So after calling the bank and straightening it all out, the end result is full refund in 3-5 business days, new debit card for me in 7-10 business days, and no access to funds until then. Because USAA does not have branches here. And my husband is gone training until the end of the week. Fudgin' A.

So to make myself feel better, I decided to sit down and get some sewing projects taken care of. Mainly, the crib bumper, which is all set and pinned and just needs to be sewn to be finished. But the bumper irritated me. And my child was irritating me. So after banning the beast to his room ((something he hates, which I will never understand since it is filled with freakin' toys)) I sat down and decided to sew B's best friend a shirt out of some jersey knit fabric I scored in the clearance bin at Hobby Lobby a few weeks back. It's super pink and super girly. I found the tutorial here at the Lil Blue Boo blog and have been wanting to try it out for awhile. Tonight was my chance. Super easy, super fast, and best of all, I got to put my ornery son in a pretty pink shirt as my model. He deserved it. He was a real jerk today. And then I took pictures of it. And now, I'm going to put them on the internet, and they will be here FOREVER, so he will always be embarrassed by them. Mother of the year right here!

He looks so upset at being put in girl's clothing, doesn't he? *Sigh* Don't mind my messy house in the background... It's the least of my worries today.

SAHM's have it rough too, ya know...

So, maybe I'm being petty. And maybe some people think I just 'don't understand'. But being a stay at home mom isn't easy. I'm so freakin', flippin' tired of having people tell me that I just wouldn't understand the demands of the working mother. Um, hello? It's not all bon bons and Days of our Lives around here! You try waking up and coming downstairs to start the coffee pot and finding your 3 year old asleep on the kitchen floor surrounded by empty go-gurt wrappers. Sure it's cute while he's still asleep, but clearly, in the long run, this is not a good thing. When was the last time any of you working moms had to clean shaving cream off a TV, a closet door, a bed and the carpet because your child and his friend decided to play in the bathroom while you were having a pregnancy induced hot flash that forced you outside into the rain to quickly cool off before returning to keep watch over the shenanigans going on in the house? I did it roughly six hours ago. ((With the help of another awesome SAHM! Far-away-high-five, Shayna!))
You can whine to me about your deadlines, and your office politics and about how the last thing you need when you get home is to clean house and cook dinner. It doesn't make your day harder than mine. In fact, if I had the luxury of spending nine hours a day with adults, hearing adult conversation and looking at spreadsheets instead of listening to those damn Fresh Beat Band kids sing about their great day and cleaning up after a husband who's primary job is to get dirty and 3 year old whose finger lives in his nose, I wouldn't be complaining! Here's the thing. I have worked and taken care of a house at the same time. It is NOTHING compared to spending days on end in a house with a little person whose conversational skills stop short at, "I can't", "I don't want it," and "No." Oh and lets not leave out the ever popular, "Mommy there's a wheel up my nose." Bet you don't have that going on in your office meetings do you? When was the last time you had to turn to the guy at the table next to you and use tweezers to pull something out of his nose? That's what I thought.

Don't get me wrong. I love my son and the time I get to spend with him. I wouldn't have it any other way. I get to be a part of all the good things too. But the next time someone tells me I don't have a "real" job, I just may scream. And then I will tell them that they are right. I don't have a real job. Because if this was a real job, I'd get paid. I'd get weekends off. I'd get to clock out at 5pm. I'd get to call in sick every now and then. And I'd get vacation time. I'd probably know what day it is, and I don't mean the date. I'd probably shower with more regularity. (You can judge all you want, but since leaving the beast alone, even for the 15 min a shower would take isn't an option, that has to happen at night, and I'm to damn tired from NOT working all day.) My sex life would certainly be better because I wouldn't be so tired from RUNNING around a house all day. Literally running. When was the last time you office gals did that? That's what I thought.

In short, I don't feel bad for you. And I don't expect you to feel bad for me. We have all made our choices, or were forced to choose. I'm blessed enough to be able to stay home with the beast. Lord knows he'd probably get kicked out of day cares from here to Timbuktu if I wasn't. But don't diminish and demean what I do. Not everyone can do it, or do it well. It takes a lot of juggling. The reality of it is, I've known women who could run offices daily and not be able to run their house with the same smooth efficiency. Being a SAHM isn't for the faint of heart. It is work. Hard work. As is going into an office every day. Like I said, I've done both. I just knew what day of the week it was, and my legs were usually shaved when I went to the office.