I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. . .
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I'm not on this list?
WTH?????
http://omg.yahoo.com/megan-fox-crowned-sexiest-woman-in-the-world/news/8487?nc
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
How Humiliating
Aye-yi-yi! The last time I blogged was at Christmastime. Christmastime for crying out loud! Where I have I been....well, life is busy. Mostly a *happy* kind of busy. I've been in several shows at our local community theater (lemme tell you---SOME OF THE BEST TIMES OF MY LIFE!), Mr B keeps me busy (more on that in a moment) and I've been dealing with some health issues. Basically, computer time keeps ending up at the end of my priorities list. So, here are just some things that I've been dealing with lately.
UPDATE ON Mr B
You Know What's Crappy?
When you wanted a baby so badly that you cried every month for eight years when you weren't . When you suffered pregnancy losses were sure you could die from that grief. But then, finally! you have the baby you prayed for. The baby you dreamed about.
Then that precious child, that darling
GETS.
ON.
YOUR.
EVERY.
LAST.
FRIKKIN.
NERVE.
It sucks. And if ONE MORE PERSON says "Oh, you shouldn't complain when he's just doing what kids do. Just be thankful you have him after all you went through, and all he went through", I mean it, I will THROW UP on them.
Some of Mr B's philosophies:
*Only mom can meet all of my needs. Not dad, not Em. Nope. It has to be mom.
* She must meet each and every one of them; now.
*It is, too, okay to play with knives and Em's bubble gum when I crawl up onto the counter and get them waaay up high where she thought they'd be out of my reach;
* If I am awake, her sole purpose in life is to be with me---every second, every moment. She does not need to eat. She does not need to pee. She does not need to work with Miss E on school work. She does not need to do any housework. Or laundry (which I will PROMPTLY rip off the table as she folds it). What part of "The world revolves around me, woman!" did she not understand?
*And [and this is my favorite] why speak when you can WHINE? whine, whine, whine....ALL. THE. LIVE. LONG. DAY. Yeah. It sucks. Oh, and just so you don't think I'm playing favorites, I have a rant for Mr T, Miss E and Mr Dog, too.
Siiigh. My boy. Let me say first that he's not a naughty boy. At least I don't think he is [denial]---I think he's just a very, very busy pistol. And I love him...he is always walking up to me and saying “Hi!” and hugging my legs. I think he times it, though, to keep me off-guard...you know, to keep me buttered up. And the naughty things he does, well, they just crack him up. He thinks he's just hysterically funny. So, you see, he just has a great sense of humor [denial] and likes to entertain himself and all of us [denial].
Let me tell you how most of our time is spent.
He dumps out his crate of kitchen toys. While I”m cleaning that up [sidebar: I have to laugh an almost murderous laugh at people who don’t have children. His speech therapist, who is married w/o kids, once said that "there is no reason Ben should not be picking up after himself." Whatever].
While I’m cleaning up those toys he’s emptying the cup on the sweeper—onto the floor I’d just swept. Whilst I’m trying to clean that up, he’s into the garbage. Then he needs his hands washed.
(One day I’d made the HAAA-UGE mistake of discovering it’s much easier to wash his hands while he’s standing at the bathtub as opposed to trying to hold him over the kitchen or bathroom sink. Ben thought that was so neat that now he’ll go into the bathroom and turn on the tub water and make a mess.)
Another favorite thing of his is to get into his dirty diaper pail. Now, it’s not that I’m not keeping an eye on him, it’s just that he’s always 3 steps ahead of me and has me cleaning up things so that he can create more havoc and destruction. He also likes to climb. Up onto the dining room table and play with the chandelier. Up the lazy-Susan, onto the counter and get into the cupboards (hence the aforementioned knives and gum).
But, he had his second birthday and we've even had some good days where I thoroughly enjoyed him. We did puppies for his birthday and he had a great time. Here's are a few pics of him:
Why could she not have found a Carpenters or Barry Manilow song?
UPDATE ON Mr B
You Know What's Crappy?
When you wanted a baby so badly that you cried every month for eight years when you weren't . When you suffered pregnancy losses were sure you could die from that grief. But then, finally! you have the baby you prayed for. The baby you dreamed about.
Then that precious child, that darling
GETS.
ON.
YOUR.
EVERY.
LAST.
FRIKKIN.
NERVE.
It sucks. And if ONE MORE PERSON says "Oh, you shouldn't complain when he's just doing what kids do. Just be thankful you have him after all you went through, and all he went through", I mean it, I will THROW UP on them.
Some of Mr B's philosophies:
*Only mom can meet all of my needs. Not dad, not Em. Nope. It has to be mom.
* She must meet each and every one of them; now.
*It is, too, okay to play with knives and Em's bubble gum when I crawl up onto the counter and get them waaay up high where she thought they'd be out of my reach;
* If I am awake, her sole purpose in life is to be with me---every second, every moment. She does not need to eat. She does not need to pee. She does not need to work with Miss E on school work. She does not need to do any housework. Or laundry (which I will PROMPTLY rip off the table as she folds it). What part of "The world revolves around me, woman!" did she not understand?
*And [and this is my favorite] why speak when you can WHINE? whine, whine, whine....ALL. THE. LIVE. LONG. DAY. Yeah. It sucks. Oh, and just so you don't think I'm playing favorites, I have a rant for Mr T, Miss E and Mr Dog, too.
Siiigh. My boy. Let me say first that he's not a naughty boy. At least I don't think he is [denial]---I think he's just a very, very busy pistol. And I love him...he is always walking up to me and saying “Hi!” and hugging my legs. I think he times it, though, to keep me off-guard...you know, to keep me buttered up. And the naughty things he does, well, they just crack him up. He thinks he's just hysterically funny. So, you see, he just has a great sense of humor [denial] and likes to entertain himself and all of us [denial].
Let me tell you how most of our time is spent.
He dumps out his crate of kitchen toys. While I”m cleaning that up [sidebar: I have to laugh an almost murderous laugh at people who don’t have children. His speech therapist, who is married w/o kids, once said that "there is no reason Ben should not be picking up after himself." Whatever].
While I’m cleaning up those toys he’s emptying the cup on the sweeper—onto the floor I’d just swept. Whilst I’m trying to clean that up, he’s into the garbage. Then he needs his hands washed.
(One day I’d made the HAAA-UGE mistake of discovering it’s much easier to wash his hands while he’s standing at the bathtub as opposed to trying to hold him over the kitchen or bathroom sink. Ben thought that was so neat that now he’ll go into the bathroom and turn on the tub water and make a mess.)
Another favorite thing of his is to get into his dirty diaper pail. Now, it’s not that I’m not keeping an eye on him, it’s just that he’s always 3 steps ahead of me and has me cleaning up things so that he can create more havoc and destruction. He also likes to climb. Up onto the dining room table and play with the chandelier. Up the lazy-Susan, onto the counter and get into the cupboards (hence the aforementioned knives and gum).
But, he had his second birthday and we've even had some good days where I thoroughly enjoyed him. We did puppies for his birthday and he had a great time. Here's are a few pics of him:
Bill Clinton was in the surrounding area recently and Mr B wore his "Bill Clinton" shirt for the occasion:
Mr B now is in the 10th percentile for his weight and the 50th for his height and head size (big old head like Mr T).
Now, an update on Miss E:
She's almost twelve. The End.
No! Okay, here's a real update: She's in love with 80's bands. It all started when she discovered the band Warrant (remember? hair band from the '80s? Yeeeah.) I know what that is like as I loved Rick Springfield, Air Supply (lol...that makes even me laugh now, 25 years later!) and Huey Lewis. BUT. OMGOSH. She'd watch the youtube video they did of the Queen song "We Will Rock You".
First, nobody does Queen like Queen.
Second, she'd listens to it over and over and over and over and over, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. I'm not kidding. Do you know how many time you can play a 2minute and 49 second song in an 8 hour day? Let me put it this way: the first day she *discovered* it, the video had had something like 6000 views. By the end of the first week it was well over 7000. Mr T, who is at work all those EIGHT FREAKING HOURS, sort of rolled his eyes at me when I shared this and said "Lisa, it's not like she's the only one watching it." YES. SHE. IS. And you must listen to it LOUDLY. You know why? Because she's losing her hearing from listening to it too loud and must keep turning it up to hear it.Why could she not have found a Carpenters or Barry Manilow song?
Also, she will not do her own hair. She's 11.5 y/o and I must put her hair in a pony tail 10 times a day.
Stop. The. Freaking. Insanity.
She's also helped out with the shows I was in and I'm so happy as I think she's found her niche. She's been having a ball and it's been a great learning experience for her. Oh, and a funny story. To tell this I first have to tell you that Mr T has been on anxiety meds for about 2 years now. They make him a completely different person---in a totally cool, great way.
Mr T and his doctor decided that it was time for Mr T to try to wean off his meds. He just wanted to sleep all the time and was quite unmotivated (not like Mr T at all---he used to run around all the time, visiting friends in the evening and taking on car projects and such). So, he stopped taking them (um, cold turkey rather than weaning, but whatever) & Miss E and I have just been waiting around, waiting for the @#$^& to hit the fan and for him to turn back into the miserable guy that he was two and half years ago (he just gets so grumpy and moody and sarcastic and no fun to be around). He really hasn't, although Miss E had mentioned that she thought he was slipping a little. So one day he called and I mentioned that I'd asked Miss E to take Mr B outside to play today whilst I showered and such. She didn't want to as all she does wants to do lately is listen to her headphones and watch videos on youtube. Well, he had me put her on the phone and he sort of read her the riot act (and to be honest, I'd done the same thing the day before to her) and said it was time to stop sitting around all the time, she needed to get outside and get some fresh air, to ride her bike, to be better about her school work blah, blah, blah and basically that it's time to get back to being productive, etc...he also told her no more headphones or videos or computer for the day. She was not happy. And apparently she was bitter as a bit later she said to me,
"Oh, btw, just so you know what to tell the police--- it's was daddy's fault, he brought it on himself, he should have been taking his medicine."
Okay, that's a quick, yet not complete, update. I hope to get back to tell you about some more things (like seeing Bill and my political thoughts) soon.
I'm sure you'll be waiting with baited breath.
Friday, December 14, 2007
A Deep, Ancient, Mystery of the Cosmos
Why is it that I can do my hair basically the same way everyday yet I so often suffer from less-than-perfect hair days?
Thursday, December 13, 2007
The Christmas Tree--Part I
We were not going to do a Christmas tree this year. ( I am still allowed to call it a "Christmas" tree, aren't I? A rant for another time, I suppose.)
We aren't against trees, per se, it's just that Mr B has this thing. It's called "Mom". He likes me. A lot. Actually, it's not me he likes, it's that I'm taller than him. And can pick him up. And then I can transport him to places where he's not really supposed to be. Like the counter tops where he likes to be so he can play in the cupboards. Or standing beside the fish tank. He also loves things he shouldn't have, breakable things, which he's not supposed to have. The breakable, dangerous things are "up" and "up" is where he wants to be.
All the time.
All the time he wants me to pick him up.
All the time he wants me to carry him around.
Pretty much since he came home from the hospital (well, when he wasn't sleeping all the time) he has wanted me to transport him. When he was 10 months old he attempted walking, enjoyed it and that was all he wanted to do while awake. So for five months I walked him around the house. Five months!! Every day, all day.
I have whined, moaned and complained about this for forever. I'm pretty sure my friends and family are now screening their phone calls from me because they are quite tired of hearing about it.
Perhaps at this point you are tsk-tsking me, thinking that, as the mom, I simply need to lay down the law, pass out some tough love and ignore Mr B's clamorings and demands [and I use the word "demands" in the same way one would in a hostage situation].
This is the same advice I gave in a book I wrote, years ago, before I had children called While I Have No Children I Really Do Know Everything About Raising Them and Will Happily Share My Unsolicited Advice With All Parents and Really Tick People Off. [That book has since been revised and is now titled I Have No Flipping Clue What I'm Doing Being a Parent.]
I try to be a loving, caring, supportive mom, but I also have no problem being firm, formidable and I take no-male-bovine-excrement-from-my-children. So as for the tough love approach...
BELIEVE ME, I'VE TRIED.
Any idea what the world record is for how long a 20-month-old boy can cry, sob and beg?
Neither do I, but I'll bet we're close.
One dear friend was treated to Mr B's antics while I was on the phone with her. She heard Mr B screaming to be let outside into the snow, barefoot, on a day which reached a high of 29 degrees. She suggested, "You should distract him with some toys."
Awww, bless her heart.
I'VE TRIED THAT A MILLION TIMES HE WON'T BE DISTRACTED. (Unless he wants to, of course).
(We're already considered "weird" because we're devoted Christians who home school, cloth-diaper, don't do Halloween nor Santa and keep goats in our back yard.
I'm kidding! We don't have goats. Anymore.)
My brother and his wife, who've been blessed with three boys of their own, laughed and mocked us. In a tone of voice similar to "SUCK IT UP, SOLDIER!" my sis-in-law commented "None of our actually ever pulled the tree down."
That enticed me to run home and toss a tree up. Sure.
My mother-in-law gave her opinion, too. As the mother-in-law she is obligated by law to pronounce judgement on ideas like this. I don't know exactly what she said as she was talking to Mr T. Something about if we don't have a tree then that's not being in the Christmas spirit and blah, blah, blah.
Miss E said she understood our decision (because she is here during the day when Mr B is politely inquiring if he may please STAND ON THE COUNTERS OR CRAWL ON THE STOVE OR PLAY WITH THE GLASS DOOR ON THE STEREO). However, she said, "Yes, I understand." in much the same way she does when she asks (for the 598871065th time) for a horse and is told no.
So, there you have it. Why we aren't having a Christmas tree.
Or rather, why we weren't going to have a tree. Scroll down for Part II of our Christmas Tree Story.
We aren't against trees, per se, it's just that Mr B has this thing. It's called "Mom". He likes me. A lot. Actually, it's not me he likes, it's that I'm taller than him. And can pick him up. And then I can transport him to places where he's not really supposed to be. Like the counter tops where he likes to be so he can play in the cupboards. Or standing beside the fish tank. He also loves things he shouldn't have, breakable things, which he's not supposed to have. The breakable, dangerous things are "up" and "up" is where he wants to be.
All the time.
All the time he wants me to pick him up.
All the time he wants me to carry him around.
Pretty much since he came home from the hospital (well, when he wasn't sleeping all the time) he has wanted me to transport him. When he was 10 months old he attempted walking, enjoyed it and that was all he wanted to do while awake. So for five months I walked him around the house. Five months!! Every day, all day.
I have whined, moaned and complained about this for forever. I'm pretty sure my friends and family are now screening their phone calls from me because they are quite tired of hearing about it.
Perhaps at this point you are tsk-tsking me, thinking that, as the mom, I simply need to lay down the law, pass out some tough love and ignore Mr B's clamorings and demands [and I use the word "demands" in the same way one would in a hostage situation].
This is the same advice I gave in a book I wrote, years ago, before I had children called While I Have No Children I Really Do Know Everything About Raising Them and Will Happily Share My Unsolicited Advice With All Parents and Really Tick People Off. [That book has since been revised and is now titled I Have No Flipping Clue What I'm Doing Being a Parent.]
I try to be a loving, caring, supportive mom, but I also have no problem being firm, formidable and I take no-male-bovine-excrement-from-my-children. So as for the tough love approach...
BELIEVE ME, I'VE TRIED.
Any idea what the world record is for how long a 20-month-old boy can cry, sob and beg?
Neither do I, but I'll bet we're close.
One dear friend was treated to Mr B's antics while I was on the phone with her. She heard Mr B screaming to be let outside into the snow, barefoot, on a day which reached a high of 29 degrees. She suggested, "You should distract him with some toys."
Awww, bless her heart.
I'VE TRIED THAT A MILLION TIMES HE WON'T BE DISTRACTED. (Unless he wants to, of course).
So, taking all of this into consideration I decided, solely for the sake of my sanity, that there would be no tree. If we were having these many issues with everyday things, what would life be like with a tree, lights, ornaments and various other festive holiday items? Mr T, who loves me and likes that I'm here to take care of things as opposed to being locked up in a pretty padded cell, taking high doses of mind-stabilizing pharmaceuticals, and because he self-admittedly has no motivation to put the thing up himself in the first place, agreed with me on the "No Tree" policy.
I'm sure you can imagine the scoffs, guilt and ridicule that this joyous decision garnered whencest shared with others. We were getting worse publicity than Heather Mills.(We're already considered "weird" because we're devoted Christians who home school, cloth-diaper, don't do Halloween nor Santa and keep goats in our back yard.
I'm kidding! We don't have goats. Anymore.)
My brother and his wife, who've been blessed with three boys of their own, laughed and mocked us. In a tone of voice similar to "SUCK IT UP, SOLDIER!" my sis-in-law commented "None of our actually ever pulled the tree down."
That enticed me to run home and toss a tree up. Sure.
My mother-in-law gave her opinion, too. As the mother-in-law she is obligated by law to pronounce judgement on ideas like this. I don't know exactly what she said as she was talking to Mr T. Something about if we don't have a tree then that's not being in the Christmas spirit and blah, blah, blah.
Miss E said she understood our decision (because she is here during the day when Mr B is politely inquiring if he may please STAND ON THE COUNTERS OR CRAWL ON THE STOVE OR PLAY WITH THE GLASS DOOR ON THE STEREO). However, she said, "Yes, I understand." in much the same way she does when she asks (for the 598871065th time) for a horse and is told no.
So, there you have it. Why we aren't having a Christmas tree.
Or rather, why we weren't going to have a tree. Scroll down for Part II of our Christmas Tree Story.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
The Christmas Tree Story - Part Deux (Sub-titled: The Good News....and The Bad News)
The Good News
Miss E talked me into putting up the artificial tree. After it was up a day or two she talked me into lights. (I told Mr T that I'm sure she'll want ornaments on it now). Mr B has very little interest in the tree and has hardly even acknowledged its presence. Whoo-hooo!
The Bad News
The reason Mr B isn't interested in the tree is because He. Still. Wants. Me.
I thought the tree would be a distraction, a blessing and a curse.
But, no, he still prefers to stand on the counters to get into the cupboards, have me hold him at the fish tank so he can see the fish, etc, etc, etc. And you know what? He won. Fine. So, I've been standing him up on the counters and he has a ball going through all the cupboards and crawling across the stove onto the next counter. Of course I'm standing there with him. I don't just put him up there and walk away, for crying out loud!
My hope is that if I let him do it, he'll eventually tire of it and not want to do it anymore. [insert hysterical laughter at my sweet, precious innocence and naivete].
However, the logical, *Lisa-you-know-better* side of me knows that I'm doing nothing more than telling him it's okay to walk on the counters and someday, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day, when I'm not paying enough attention to him because I'll be doing something selfishly crazy like, oh, I don't know, peeing or something, he'll get up onto the counters all by himself and I will spend the next 16 years of my life trying to keep him from crawling on them. I'll have done nothing more than have created a monster.
And let's face it...that's been his plan all along.
Miss E talked me into putting up the artificial tree. After it was up a day or two she talked me into lights. (I told Mr T that I'm sure she'll want ornaments on it now). Mr B has very little interest in the tree and has hardly even acknowledged its presence. Whoo-hooo!
The Bad News
The reason Mr B isn't interested in the tree is because He. Still. Wants. Me.
I thought the tree would be a distraction, a blessing and a curse.
But, no, he still prefers to stand on the counters to get into the cupboards, have me hold him at the fish tank so he can see the fish, etc, etc, etc. And you know what? He won. Fine. So, I've been standing him up on the counters and he has a ball going through all the cupboards and crawling across the stove onto the next counter. Of course I'm standing there with him. I don't just put him up there and walk away, for crying out loud!
My hope is that if I let him do it, he'll eventually tire of it and not want to do it anymore. [insert hysterical laughter at my sweet, precious innocence and naivete].
However, the logical, *Lisa-you-know-better* side of me knows that I'm doing nothing more than telling him it's okay to walk on the counters and someday, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day, when I'm not paying enough attention to him because I'll be doing something selfishly crazy like, oh, I don't know, peeing or something, he'll get up onto the counters all by himself and I will spend the next 16 years of my life trying to keep him from crawling on them. I'll have done nothing more than have created a monster.
And let's face it...that's been his plan all along.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Tuesday December 4th
What I am doing:
1. sitting on my butt here at the computer
2.listening to Rush Limbaugh online (because I was trying to find Glenn Beck's radio show online, for free, which I did and may I say I am beside myself with delight! And Rush follows Glenn's show)
3. dreaming about a steak-n-cheese sub (with mushrooms and extra onions and extra mayo) from a local take-out place
What I should be doing:
1. housework, housework, housework...before Mr B wakes up from his nap
2. looking over Miss E's finished school work and drilling her on her spelling words
What I want to be doing:
1. sitting here on my butt, listening to Rush whilst eating the aforementioned sub and drinking a Mountain Dew and eating french fries dipped in bleu cheese dressing
2. watching a Merry Maid clean my house
3. not gaining weight from the food and Dew
1. sitting on my butt here at the computer
2.listening to Rush Limbaugh online (because I was trying to find Glenn Beck's radio show online, for free, which I did and may I say I am beside myself with delight! And Rush follows Glenn's show)
3. dreaming about a steak-n-cheese sub (with mushrooms and extra onions and extra mayo) from a local take-out place
What I should be doing:
1. housework, housework, housework...before Mr B wakes up from his nap
2. looking over Miss E's finished school work and drilling her on her spelling words
What I want to be doing:
1. sitting here on my butt, listening to Rush whilst eating the aforementioned sub and drinking a Mountain Dew and eating french fries dipped in bleu cheese dressing
2. watching a Merry Maid clean my house
3. not gaining weight from the food and Dew
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Chose a Candidate
I thought this was interesting. I'm, uh, a little surprised, however, by whom I chose. Definitely not who I would necessarly vote for.
(BTW---someone, pleeease, tell me how to insert links here so that you just click on a word, like "here" and the link is in the one word rather than the whole entire link showing and looking messy. Please, anyone.)
http://www.wqad.com/Global/link.asp?L=259460
(BTW---someone, pleeease, tell me how to insert links here so that you just click on a word, like "here" and the link is in the one word rather than the whole entire link showing and looking messy. Please, anyone.)
http://www.wqad.com/Global/link.asp?L=259460
Why. Can't. I. Stop. Eating???
Gosh, three posts in just a few hours. What's up with that? Well, I woke up at 2:30 A.M., had a raging headache, took migraine meds which contain caffeine so, hence all the activity here. So far I've placed an online Christmas order, caught up on some of your blogs, checked out my message boards, re-balanced my check book (I'm Paranoid, capital "P" about my check book) and took care of some emails.
Anywhooo, my tummy is growling. Again. Honestly, what is it? As some of you know I've lost some weight over the years; 80 lbs. since Aug of '04...but there was that pregnancy thing in there where I gained some back which I did lose again. But! I'm so, so, soooo stuck! I still have 20 lbs to go till a I meet a huge goal. After that, I want to lose another 20 to reach my Ultimate Goal. But whhhhyyyy can't I stoooop eeeeating. Whine, whine, whine. I really have lost very little in the past few months because I Just. Want. Really. Bad. Unhealthy. Yet. So. Oh. Yummy. Food.
Anywhooo, my tummy is growling. Again. Honestly, what is it? As some of you know I've lost some weight over the years; 80 lbs. since Aug of '04...but there was that pregnancy thing in there where I gained some back which I did lose again. But! I'm so, so, soooo stuck! I still have 20 lbs to go till a I meet a huge goal. After that, I want to lose another 20 to reach my Ultimate Goal. But whhhhyyyy can't I stoooop eeeeating. Whine, whine, whine. I really have lost very little in the past few months because I Just. Want. Really. Bad. Unhealthy. Yet. So. Oh. Yummy. Food.
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