Stinkerbell participated in a local library's summer reading program. She just finished kindergarten and was therefore not eligible for the prizes for reading the most books. She did great and her reading did improve a lot.
Kudos to her.
Her BFF, Lauren, won 1st prize in her age group for reading 300! books. 300 in 3 weeks. gawllleeeee
Anyway, today was the awards ceremony and picnic/celebration for the participants. I regret attending with every gray hair hidden by Ms Amy at Rumorz Styling Salon.
Because Stinkerbell didn't enroll in the program - because we had been out of town - she wasn't named as a participant and allowed to pick a toy/prize from the 2 tables FULL OF TOYS. At the first event, we asked if she could still take part. "Yes, but she won't be eligible for the top prizes."
Remember that, "top prizes."
The library lady did announce after ALL THE KIDS PRESENT had gotten their toys, that "if anyone was left out, to come on up and get a toy."
Is that ambiguous to any of you?
Nope, didn't think so.
So, Stinkerbell didn't hear that announcement and didn't know where to go, so I went with her.
me: She didn't get to get a toy yet.
Library butt-munch Nazi: What's her name?
me: Stinkerbell Auburn
Library butt-munch nazi glances at list and doesn't see her name
this is where I should have shut up and just let Stinkerbell get a stupid Bratz doll and be thrilled with it. But nooooOOOOOOO.
me: She didn't get to enroll, but she attended all the programs and checked out and read 29 books.
Library butt-munch nazi: I'm sorry. She can't have a prize.
me, incredulous and mama-bear-like: You just said that if anyone was left out...
Library butt-munch nazi: Yes, but we had a deadline for enrollment and it wouldn't be fair to the other kids...
me, about to slap her or cry or swear big bad words: You have toys on the table here that NO ONE is going to get. EVERYONE has gotten a toy that should have gotten one. You can't let her have ONE TOY that is ALREADY PAID FOR???
Library butt-munch nazi: I'm sorry.
me: you mean I have to explain to her that YOU won't let her have a toy that NO ONE ELSE wanted and NO ONE ELSE will get and is going to be boxed up in some attic somewhere?
Library butt-munch nazi: Yes, I'm sorry. She can still have the coupons for the free meals at our local restaurant sponsors...
me, about to seriously cry, can't respond, turned and walked away.
Stinkerbell wept. I cried with her and told her how unfair it was and that I didn't understand it either.
When she went to the lady with the coupons, she was refused them too.
I'm about to chew on some librarian a$$, people.
So, we left the awards ceremony and were going to eat their free hotdogs and play on their bouncehouse and swim in the city pool for free. But the bouncehouse was HOT to the touch. And BFF Lauren doesn't eat hotdogs and I was praying for a big ol' frog-choaker rain to ruin it for the Nazis.
And ate pizza and drank Sprite at Mama Maria's cafe. In the AIR CONDITIONING.
So, now join with me in sending wishes of people putting books back in all the wrong places and talking above a whisper and general mayhem at the Rainsville Public Library.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Stinkerbell participated in a local library's summer reading program. She just finished kindergarten and was therefore not eligible for the prizes for reading the most books. She did great and her reading did improve a lot.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
The Mighty Hunter has a gal working for him named Bobbie. She's a funny, funny person. Divorced with two young adult sons, both of whom are in the Army. She's a very interesting person to me in that she is constantly, habitually, obsessively afraid of someone being in her apartment or looking in her window or standing outside her door or something.
And I mean constantly.
Also, I should have said phobic.
Recently, her youngest son left home for Basic Training. Before he left, she confronted him about possibly finding something very private and personal of hers and hiding it or throwing it away.
And since I'm giggling too hard to be able to do more than simply tell. the. story., I'll just go into blurb mode.
This something was given to her immediately following her divorce by her sister.
This something was purple.
This something was named Bob.
This something was her, um, ahem, boyfriend.
"Did you get my Bob?"
"Yes! What did you do with my Bob?"
Her son was clearly only acting confused, so she took him to her closet where Bob was stored and showed him where Bob should have been. Together, they found Bob and her son was mortified.
And this time, he did throw Bob away.
Not to worry though. Cuz, thanks to the miracle of online and catalog shopping, a new and improved Bob was delivered via small, brown package this week.
I don't know what color Bob2.0 is yet. But, trust me, I'll find out.
This is just too funny to let it go.
And, yes, this is all I could think of to write about. Sorry.
Also, my brother sent me this via Slickdeals.net ...
Kohls.com has Pajama Sets featuring Disney characters, Elmo, Dora, Diego, Peanuts, or Thomas the Tank Engine for as low as $4 - 10% off with code NEW1354 = $3.60. Shipping is $1 per item for today only.
To see the whole info on SlickDeals, click. Then click the link "Children's Pajama Sets From $4.60".
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Hi. Here I am. dum dee dum dee dum.
I'm aware I've not posted much lately. Sorry. It's summer. There's stuff going on. And Islands to visit.
Oh, and Vacation Bible School. This week is VBS at our church. Last year, I was the first few weeks pregnant and not feeling well. It was not fun for me.
This year, I'm nursing a baby and pitching in for a whole 5 minutes each night.
And Hannah Montana to watch. Lots of Hannah Montana to watch. And we love our Hannah Montana.
Also Animal Planet.
Can someone tell me how to quit a job when your dad was the boss? Because he keeps calling me to handle simple crap for him that he needs to do for his dang self. grrr
Can someone tell me how to stop my family (mostly my husband) from twisting the seatbelts and getting them pulled ALL. THE. WAY. OUT. AND. STUCK. AND. TWISTED. so that only the Toyota dealer or a proctologist can release it and untwist it? I have not owned my Pimped Out Mamamobile a whole year yet, and The Mighty Hunter has already gotten the front passenger seat belt twisted and extended ALL. THE. WAY. OUT. TWICE!
He's seat belt learning impaired. And it gets on my last nerve.
Stinkerbell makes me swear. She makes me want to swear even more. She pushes my buttons to the point that I can't deal with another. single. word. out. of. her. mouth.
She is dancing back and forth across the little girl and big girl line. Barely out of kindergarten, not yet ready for first grade. She is desperately missing the time she and I have shared with each other and no one else. Lucky is precious to her, but he is this giant baby barrier between her and her mommy.
And it's all driving me nuts.
She's trying her best to understand and be patient but gets all weepy and emotional and woe-is-me. And that's my gig.
I'm looking forward to the time when Lucky doesn't need ME and I can hand him off to a baby-sitter for an afternoon and play with her and her alone. I'm thinking Libby Lu and Chuck E. Cheese.
Thanks for sticking with me through this Summer of Boredom. I promise to look for more interesting things to blog about.
Monday, June 25, 2007
researching procrastinating this meme. But since Bee was kind enough to tag me and share with me her favorite places to eat in her beloved Birmingham, I want to go ahead and do this before I find the answer to high gas prices secure peace in Iraq forget again.
So, where are my favorite places to eat here in my beloved NE corner of Alabama? I could link to all the
dozens handful of restaurants and whatnot. But, believe it or not, very few of them have websites.
Here is the listing page from our local tourist association. It lists some of the good, bad and questionable places to eat here. My favorites of the local places serve bbq, burgers, chicken (wings, etc), steaks, etc.
Since I'd like to be all linky with this meme, I'll share with you some of my favorite eateries in places other than my DeKalb County.
1. Buca Di Beppo - an interesting and yummy Italian restaurant chain. I ate at the one in Alpharetta, Ga, for Rachel's bachelorette party. GOOOOOOD food. Fun atmosphere. Goooooood food.
2. Olive Garden - no, it's not very special anymore. It has saturated most metro markets. But I love my breadsticks with some Alfredo sauce.
3. The Park Grill in Gatlinburg, TN - I've written about this unique and scrumpdillyicious place before. I'm trying to convince myself that a 3-hour drive to a one-of-a-kind, incredible restaurant is not a total waste of time and money. My fave dishes are the "moonshine chicken" with a side of their roasted garlic mashed potatoes and "P-kan Chicken". Their desserts are worth the trip alone.
4. Cheeburger Cheeburger - One of the fond memories of splurging on meals out while poor college students. Not healthy. Not low carb. Not fancy. Not a problem. Paper towels for napkins and baskets of onion rings.
5. Wing Stop - Garlic Parmesan boneless with fries and Ranch and Sprite to drink. That'll do for me. The Hawaiian and BBQ are also good.
I also love Spaghetti Warehouse, Cheesecake Factory and many other just plain good food joints.
Now I need to tag 5 others. Unfortunately, most of you have already done this one. So, if you haven't already shared your fave places to go eat out, now's your chance.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Previously, you may have noticed that my knuckles are not bare, hair-less, dainty things. I have man-hands. I got them from my parents. I swear, my mom's hands are just as manly as mine - except she bites her nails, making for stubby-fingernailed man-hands.
And seeing as how my bloggy neighbor/friend, Bee, mentioned that hairy knuckles can't be overlooked. (gee, thanks! now I'll be even more self-conscious as I type.) I'm wondering what y'all do with your hairy knuckles.
If you're like me and have hair on your fingers (no, they're not actually on my knuckles), do you shave your fingers?
Do you Veet them?
Do you go Brazilian with your knuckles and get waxed all the way to your arm pits?
Do you bleach them so they'll be all invisible-like?
And for the Veet, I could totally do a product review on that can of crap.
I need y'all to guide me here. I'm not high maintenance. I color my hair. I question God's omniscience when He put
gray platinum strands in random spots on my head. I tweeze my brows. I get my 'stache waxed.
But I don't know what to do about my knuckles.
Yes, I have better things to do. I'll go about them now.
Friday, June 22, 2007
The Mighty Hunter walked all over my feelings Wednesday as we drove back from Dauphin Island.
I sat there, with a tear poised perfectly on my left eye, just under my eyelashes, reflecting the setting sun and blinded without my sunglasses so that he could see me in the mirror and feel like the scumbag he was.
Till he apologized.
A little random background info...
I have a speaking dyslexia lately. I see a pillow and call it a toaster. I see my son and call him by the puppy's name. I blame it on the baby and all my brains flowing out my nips and also hearing "lookmommymommylooklookmommymommylook" 7,928,003 times a day.
Stinkerbell was in the very back seat of the Pimped Out Mamamobile and I was seated in the seat directly behind the empty front passenger's seat as The Mighty Hunter drove. (explanation is a whole 'nother post) Lucky was directly behind the driver's seat. Stinkerbell was moving around in the back seat and I was concerned that she would break the framed Baby Dedication Certificate that The Mighty Hunter
tossed carefully packed away there.
"take off your headphones. take off your headphones."
silence till she answers me with the Southern manners I'm trying my best to
brainwash train her to use.
wiggle. climb. dirty feet on the seats. knees terrifyingly close to the glass, about to break it and scar her for life.
"be still. BE STILL! give me the envelope."
"yes. give it here."
from the driver's seat: "what's wrong?"
baby crying now
Stinkerbell hands me the only things she can find that might be associated with an envelope.
"not that. give me that!" pointing and angry now. "thank. you."
driver's seat: "what is it?"
"I was trying to keep her from breaking the glass in this... this... this thing of Lucky's!" brow furrowed. left eyebrow raising. voice revealing high level of irritation. baby crying still. where's that stupid pappie?
"she gave it to you."
"no she gave me this piece of paper first. then after I pointed it out, she gave it to me."
"mommy, you asked for an envelope."
Now, I really want to ask her why she didn't give me an envelope. I want to ask her why she didn't read my swiss cheese mind and give me what I really wanted, what I meant, not what I said.
from the driver's seat (get ready to get po'd) "mommy's sorry she yelled at you. you did good baby." (And no, I can't get him to improve his English.) glares at me in the mirror.
Stinkerbell thankfully puts her headphones back on her head so that I can tear into him.
"don't apologize for me to her. EV-ER. that would have po'd you to the moon and back. don't do that to me. I know when I make a mistake. I admit my mistakes to her. I apologize to her. I ask her to forgive me. I do this all the time. don't do it for me. it was insulting."
The tear forms but doesn't run down my cheek. I refuse too cry. But I can clench my teeth and raise my left eyebrow and huff and puff. I am enjoying the ride down Guilt Trip Highway.
poor use of English language
can't spell any form of "there", "their" or "they're"
"I shouldn't have apologized for you."
I let that one big, fat tear sit on my cheekbone for another 30 minutes. He deserved it.
Now that I've griped about my darling husband's inconsiderate jerky stupid-man behavior, I need to tell you what else I think about him.
Only a little, I promise.
This weekend at Dauphin Island, we stayed at his dad's condo. His brother (BIL) was there also. SIL had to work, so Stinkerbell and I were the only girls.
Many times vacations are not very vacationy for moms. When you go to a hotel, you get a little more "time off" than when you stay at a condo or rental house. Condos and houses are a little more comfy in some ways, but there are kitchens to clean and towels to wash and no one to make beds for you and refill the toilet paper roll for you. So, there are moments when going away to the Island is not very relaxing for me.
But, The Mighty Hunter is aware of this and does a lot to make my time as vacationy as possible too. I rarely cook while we are at the condo. He is the Grill Master Commander Extraordinaire. He goes to the store and buys all he needs and really enjoys the whole thing. He really is pretty good at it too. He usually buys shrimp and grills it on skewers.
I was amazed the first time he did it. They were spaced out nicely and not over-cooked and as pretty as shrimp can be. Now I can't tell you if they were very good or not. I don't eat shrimp. It's texture is like plastic. I've tried every preparation and seasoning and flavoring and variety and blah blah blah. I just don't like to eat plastic food. Thankyouverymuchanyway, I'll just eat my chicken.
He grilled chicken and grouper, and they were yummmmmy. He cleans the grill. He does a half-decent job of cleaning up the kitchen after himself while at the beach.
He takes Stinkerbell to the pool or fishing or for a ride on the SeaDoo, when I'm attached to Lucky at the boob. He picks up after himself in the bedroom and bathroom while there - much better than at home!
He does what he can to give me some time-off too.
And he thinks I'm "beautiful and sexy" and tells me so all the time. And, yes, I usually think he's saying that just to get some. But, still, this fluffy-bellied, insecure, post-partum mom needs to hear it.
And lemmetellya, he loves his babies. LOVES! HIS! BABIES!
He was one of those guys that I dated that probalby wouldn't have been my parent's choice for me. He was wild. He had a goal for his dates, and it wasn't honorable. He drank and often it was too much. My Baptist preacher-dad would have locked me in my room if he had known that.
But when I saw him for the first time, I knew he was something special, not to mention sexy. He had this long, strong, muscular neck and a beautiful tanned complexion. His soft brown eyes also had a look about them that was a little naughty. Not mischevious so much as naughty.
He is a pest. He stopped by here while I was trying to eat a salad for lunch just a little bit ago. I had gotten an email from one of his sales managers. I asked him what I needed to know to answer the email. He started poking his finger in my ear and doing his hyena-giggle. It forced me to reply to the sales-guy with an "I'll get back you after I kill him for poking me in the ear." I whopped him with the throw pillow, and he ran off.
He is very smart. He has amazed me with his understanding of accounting and the financial part of running his business. Yes, I know his degree is in economics, but for some reason I doubted him. He had never worked for himself before. His primary job history is with the large insurance company. I'm so proud of him.
He's a good guy.
I think I've said it before, but I'll say it again.
He loves fiercely and tenderly. He provides and nurtures. He snuggles and caresses gently. He wept when he buried his mother and cried tears of joy when his babies were born. He carries the burdens of this family with strength and peace. He kicks butt when necessary, but always demonstrates his deep love for those who are blessed with it.
He is a good man. He is a good husband. He is a good dad. He is a good friend. He is a good boy.
I'll keep him. And knowing all his good qualities, I'll forgive him for being a jerk. But I reserve the right to blog about it.
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!
note: I've been pecking at this for several days ande finally decided to click the Orange Button.
I've missed y'all. You have No! Idea! how much I've missed y'all.
A quick recap and some random things I've struggled to remember to blog about.
Saturday, the Auburn Family drove to Prattville, where The Mighty Hunter's brother pastors a church (scary, I know) and spent the night with them. The next morning, we attended their church for a baby dedication service. Lucky was dedicated, along with 4 other babies. It was sweet. BIL has this fancy schmancy robe he wears for weddings and other special services. Growing up Country Baptist, it was all too First Baptisty for me, but it was a nice touch and very thoughtful of him. Being Baptist, we don't christen, we just "dedicate". But BIL did annoint with the finest extra virgin olive oil available at their local W-M. The babies loved the annointing part.
I think I lost my rings while there. Actually, "lost" might be to permanent a word to use, as I still have hope of finding them. See, I'm not in the habit of wearing my rings right now. For years, I've taken them off the Very Minute I walk into my house or my mom's house. Not sure why. I think it's like shoes. When I'm comfy and "at home" somewhere, I want my shoes to be shed and my rings to be put away. Well, this time that habit has plain ol' bit me on the butt. I stopped as we left the house Saturday to put on my rings so that I'd have some jewelry on besides my never-remove-them-or-my-left-earring hole-will-grow-together earrings. I even slept in my rings Saturday night. I took them off before I showered Sunday morning. I put them back on before leaving for church. I looked at them in church and thought about how badly they needed cleaning.
This is where my memory turns to mush. I don't remember taking them off and where I put them down. I realized I no longer had them on when we were leaving their house for lunch. Which wouldn't have been such a big deal if we were returning right after lunch. BUT we left the Mexican restaurant (more on that later) and drove to Dauphin Island. So, as I realize I don't have my rings, I ask SIL to look for them when she got back home and I'd pick them up when we returned from the Island on Wednesday.
Guess what. She forgot to look. I have unpacked every dadgum thing in our bags. No rings. I'm beginning to worry.
I work very very hard to be one of those "don't panic" people who believes that I'll find whatever it is if I remain calm and can think straight and don't cry.
I'm about to cry.
I think I'll look at the pictures we took after the service and see if I can the dirty rings reflecting off my pasty skin. That might pin down the time that I removed them, at least.
almost crying... ahem...
What? You want more evidence that I'm losing my mind? No problem, bub.
At the Mexican restaurant, I had Lucky next to me in his carseat thingy and had opened his baby food, but was enjoying some chips and cheese before he got bibbed up and ready to eat.
Chip. Cheese. Chew. Swallow. Chip. Cheese. Chew. Swallow. Chip. Baby food. Open mouth. Stop. Hang head in shame. Laugh at self till tears flow. SIL notices me, thinks I'm praying, but hears whimpers escaping.
"Are you all right?"
Can't answer, might wail or snort. Wait, snort just escaped. The Mighty Hunter notices me.
Still can't answer. Laughing too hard. Present chip covered in baby food sweet potatoes to the table. Center of attention. Whole table is laughing too.
Move baby food over. Chip. Cheese. Chew. Swallow. Rinse and repeat.
I have more, but I'll save it for later, since my posting opportunities are limited lately due to all the summer
heat torture fun.
I've missed y'all. Don't forget me, because I have no life without blogging.
Friday, June 15, 2007
After Stinkerbell's final teeball game tonight, we had dinner with my parents. It was an unremarkable fast-food, chicken finger place. Stinkerbell had her Club Libby Lu backpack stuffed with pj's and a change of clothes for tomorrow, as she was going to spend the night with Nanny and Pa. (God love them.)
The Mighty Hunter and his dad went to a friend's camper at the lake for a night of fishing. (yeah, right.) "Fishing" is code for telling jokes, laughing, farting and drinking. They do this once a year or so, and most times, never get their line wet. Unless they pee on it while being nature-boys.
Tonight, it's me and my baby.
Lucky and I left dinner and with the intent of going to W-M and getting a dvd for Sunday (his dedication service at The Mighty Hunter's brother's church. Yes, his brother is a pastor. Scary, huh?) On a whim - yes, whim - I stopped at the Goody's store next to my W-M. Still fluffy with baby fat, I am unable to wear most of my dresses or skirts. I browsed the racks and came to the following conclusions:
- I have no clue how to put together an outfit with the clothes on the racks now. No. Clue.
- The dresses I see look like something from a Donna Summer video (did she make any videos then?)
- Is there nothing out there that functions for a nursing mom with her wide bra straps and dumpy figure but still makes us look and feel sexy and not sexy in the that'll-cost-you-$50 way?
- My answer to #3 is no.
So, I did what any post partum gal would do. I called Beverly and cried and talked about my big thighs and wide hips and that the one dress I tried on actually fit and was a bigger size than I've ever worn. And I only vaguely looked like a pro in it, but I definitely looked like I might to audition for Flashdance.
And you know what Beverly did?
She grabbed 5 or 6 dresses from her closet and brought them over to my rescue and laughed with me for a good 30 minutes and made me feel better.
Yes, she did.
And that's why she's one of my best friends.
That and the fact that she calls The Mighty Hunter a "butt munch" at work.
You gotta love a gal that can insult your husband, who is her boss, and get away with it.
Oh, and right now? I should be packing for our trip to Dauphin Island. Obviously I'd rather blog.
I still might cry some more over this whole clothes debacle.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Mommy, I need to talk to you. I've always wanted to feel the wind on my face from a horse's back.
Mommy, do you think when I grow up and am old enough that someone will want to you know, go on a date with me?
I think I know who I'll marry, but you have to promise not to tell anyone who it is. (I promised, so I can't tell the rest. sorry!)
I'm glad we don't live in Australia, because the naked mole rat pees inside the toilet. It lives in the toilet, and it smells, and they are blind so they can't see. How they know each other is because they smell each other. And how they get that smell is because they pee in the toilet.
I have to poop. Awww! Yuk! It looks like a ball of yarn. And also a horn. Maybe I ate too much okra.
I could tell you more, but you're probably not interested. And it's gross.
I have a recurring theme to my dreams sometimes.
The longest-running recurring theme is I can fly. No wings, but still. I take a step and become airborne and will move high in the sky or up in the rafters of whatever dream building.
Another recurring theme that happens much less often is related to college. I'm at college and have forgotten that I was enrolled in a class and it was end-of-term and I haven't attended class or taken a test or written a paper - what to do? A different twist on the college theme is that I've decided to go back to grad school. I go to the Loveliest Village on the Plains and find myself a place to live and find a close parking space (proof it's just a dream as there are no close or convenient parking spaces at AU.) I find my advisor and explain why I should take freshman level science classes.
Lately, dreams have helped me in interesting ways. Two weeks ago a friend was passing through Alabama and made plans to stay with us one night. This important piece of information was pushed into the recesses of my memory, giving priority to things like putting a diaper in my bag and brushing my teeth. The night before the friend was to come, I dreamed he called and said "I'll see you this evening!"
Then there was this other dream I had but I can't remember it now. darnitall.
What about you? Do you have interesting dreams? Keep it clean.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
This is not funny. This sooo NOT funny. Rachel went to the hospital Sunday evening. Contracting hard, laboring good, but "no progress". She stayed until today and checked herself out. She's back at home to rest. She may turn around and go back to the hospital tonight.
Basically, no baby.
A little song I'm just now making up, hum the Oscar Mayer bologna song in your head...
I can tell you how to sleep now
I can show you how to get some rest
Oh, you'll love it as you push real hard
and when he's born I know you'll saaaaaay
Epidurals are the way to have a baby born today!
She's quite a trooper. I just hope she doesn't get caught in traffic when she decides to pop the little bugger out!
I'll tell more when there's more to tell.
Monday, June 11, 2007
ChiliHead (is it all one word? or Chili Head? the mysteries of the wind...) is hosting a new meme where we get to tell our readers why we ever got started blogging in the first place.
And I just know you're dying to find out why crazy ol' me felt the urge, nay compulsion, to put my thoughts on
How did you start blogging?
I have this wonderful friend, Rachel, who had started a blog where a few of us who were at Auburn University at the same time and have tried to keep in touch over the
months years could share the events in our lives without the burden of cc'ing every single one of us on an email. She is also a lot like me (tragic, I know) and feels the need to express herself with actual, you know, words.
However, I didn't get on-board with her team blog. As geeky as I am, I didn't "get it" and didn't take the time to figure it out for a while. Probably a year went by and I had read a few blogs but not regularly, just here and there mostly. The Mighty Hunter and I were trying to get pregnant last Spring, and I wanted to record my thoughts as I went through that process. I also wanted to record some of the darn hilarious things that Stinkerbell does.
Did you intend to be a blog w/a big following? If so, how did you go about it?
Of course I did. I'm a megalomaniac. "Drink the kool-aid. It tastes great. Ignore that metallic taste. It's just 'vitamins'."
I think we all secretly (or not) dream of being a BooMama or Chili Head or Amalah. I'm just not as interesting or funny or talented. I have been known to spend hours pouring over my stat counter and identifying each IP address and wondering who was reading what and what they thought. Did they laugh? Was it "haha funny" laughter? Was it "she's so stupid" laughter? Will they come back and read more? Please let them come back and read more.
As I've participated in carnivals and memes and commented on other posts, I've gotten more and more readers. Blogging really is a community. If you spend time getting to know the other bloggers and commenting on their posts, they usually reciprocate. Friendships often result.
What do you hope to achieve or accomplish with your blog? Have you been successful? If not, do you have a plan to achieve those goals?
World domination. Of course, I've been successful. You're reading this, aren't you?
Actually, I just want to express myself and get some bloggy therapy while I'm at it. It has morphed into an addiction to reading Every Single Word that some bloggers put out there.
Really, every single word.
Has the focus of your blog changed since you started blogging? How?
Only in that I'm participating in the carnivals and memes more. Honestly, they give me something to write about when I'm uninspired. I'm still primarily writing about my sad, little, ordinary (now post-partum) life and how very sad it is, except for the occasional bright spots brought on by Stinkerbell's strangeness and The Mighty Hunter's love for us all and Lucky's sparkly-eyed smiles.
What do you know now that you wish you'd known when you started?
I wish I had known how to manipulate my template and post pictures and produce a better layout. I'm only now beginning to change the html of my template.
I still wish I were a better writer. I try to write well but tend to think that I'm like Dr. McPhee in Night at the Museum who uses too many metaphors, never finishes them and only confuses those around him.
Do you make money with your blog?
Well, not yet. I think actually putting some, you know, ads on my blog might help with that, but that's so much trouble. I've considered one of those pay-per-post review thingies, but again, the effort. You see, I'm lazy. I'm competing in Bejing at the 2008 Olympics for the Gold in Lazy Blogger for Team USA.
Does your immediate or extended family know about your blog? If so, do they read it? If not, why?
Yes, they know I blog. I would have to hog-tie The Mighty Hunter to read it. Stinkerbell thinks it's cool and has her own blog. My mom read some of my early posts but has forgotten about it - which is fine, since I sometimes write things here that are very personal and not what I want my mom to read. Dad doesn't know about it. My brother and his family don't know. The Mighty Hunter's family doesn't know and doesn't care.
This is where I use my anonymity to its fullest. I write about my lack of self-esteem and excessive pity-partying and inferiority complexes. Ironically, it's easy to share those very personal things and be vulnerable with you, my 4 readers. You can think I'm a sad person, and that's ok. I don't have to face you and deal with the crap that I let myself wallow in.
What two pieces of advice would you give to a new blogger?
Comment on the blogs you read. Leave a link to your blog, especially if you've just written something relating to their posts.
Participate in carnivals and memes. It's fun and helps you share with others in a way that will help them find things in common with you.
Keep your format simple. Don't over-do it with labels like me. (warning: I'm about to re-do my labeling. sorry!)
Join blogging groups.
Spell-check. I'm a good speller but my fingers are occasionally stricken with dyslexia. I don't proof for spelling as much as I should. I know that I let too many typo's get posted. (sorry)
Blogging has developed its own writing style. You don't have to use it to have a good blog. One of the best blogs I read is not at all typical in voice. Moreena writes so beautifully about her family and very rarely uses blogspeak to achieve it. I actually think it's her non-bloggy style that makes all her posts exceptional.
Be yourself. Or be an alter-ego. Either way, have fun.
Now, go forth and blog. If you follow along with this meme, leave a comment here and also over at Chilihead's.
I called Rachel yesterday to check in on her and her precious baby. I had to leave a message. I don't mind leaving her a message right now.
Not at all!
She is, after all, having a baby.
Or a nap with the ringer turned off.
It better be the baby thing...
Yes, she needs and deserves a nap, and the ringer being turned off is brilliant. But I need to know.
I really wish I had something else to think about right now.
My heart and mind is just absorbed in her new babyness. It's soooo fun and soooo exciting and soooo wonderful and soooo tiring and soooo extreme in the whole process.
I can't wait to see pictures of that handsome little boy.
I can't wait to hear her birth story.
I can't wait to hear if she was able to do her crazy water-birth thing or chose my much-adored epidural route.
I can't wait.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
explanation: The Mighty Hunter took advantage of an interruption while I was writing this post and stole my laptop and then shut it down! So, I have to try to remember where I was in my rant and try to finish it all nice and neat-like. grrr. jerk
Ok, Rachel went to the hospital and while she was in early labor, they sent her home.
I guess it's a luxury of my super-small-town hospital and the fact that there are 6 (maybe only 5) ob/gyns that work there. But, it rarely happens like that here. And I think I would probably throw a big-giant-psycho-pregnant-homocidal-get-this-baby-out-NOW! fit, if I was contracting and they sent! me! home!
Yes, I live 5 miles from my hospital.
Yes, I could be back there in 5 minutes.
But, oh h-e-double-hockey-sticks no!, I'd be mad and swearing and very unChristian-like and please don't make me cry and yes, I am always a mean pregnant woman anyway so I'm not going home.
And also, bite my big toe, I would not go home. I need drug$!
So, Rachel is back at home and waiting on that wonderful, painful "progress" and her turn to swear.
It really sucks that she is in Minnesota and I'm in Alabama. She totally needs me as her untrained, postpartum-psycho doula.
Rachel, I'm thinking of you!
Saturday, June 09, 2007
My dear friend Rachel, whom I grew to admire and love and covet her beautiful hair while taking our senior level classes at Auburn, is expecting her first child. Her precious little boy was due this week. Contractions have kept her on pins and needles, but no "real labor" signs have shown up...
Till 3:31 today.
They are on their way to the hospital!
I can't wait!!!
Friday, June 08, 2007
I'm all giddy and snorty and excited, like the nerd I am.
Jen from Stay-at-Home Motherdom, issued an invitation to interview her readers. Like any self-absorbed mommy-blogger, I jumped up and down and said "memememememe!!!!"
So, she dropped in here and read some of my posts (bless her heart) and crafted some questions just. for. me.
rolling eyes at my extreme dorkiness
ahem, composing myself as best I can
1) From whom do you think your son inherits his "animal smell"? (edit: it's my daughter that talked about her animal smell, but my son totally stinks too.)
Stinkerbell is a serious lover of animals. Her favorites are dogs, cats, horses, puppies, kittens, ponies, unicorns - there's a pattern here, I think. anyhoo. I can't even think of some stupidly funny way to explain her animal smell on this. To be frank and blunt, she farts and it stinks. But you already guessed that. Her diet consists of the healthiest, most organic and natural hotdogs and easy-mac available at my local W-M. Plus fish sticks, carrots, Ranch salad dressing and chocolate chip cookies. The combination of these bond chemically to produce an odor like a dead-animal soaked in sulfur water. Her obsession with all things Animal Planet has taught her an amazing amount of facts about her friends from the animal kingdom. It was during an AP marathon that she dreamed up her explanation of her farts being her way of protecting her from the big, mean animals that want to eat her. I must admit that I think it would totally work. Totally.
2) Who is the person who inspired you most in life? (other than a family member)
This one is surprisingly hard. Part of the difficulty comes from the 6 y-o sitting beside me singing, very loudly, "Home on the Range" - with the addition of her own lyrics too! I think I'll just list my answers to this one...
Shania Twain - she was so poor growing up she ate mustard sandwiches.
Celine Dion - her voice is what I consider a true gift from God, a reward to her parents for not aborting her.
Penny P - my friend who is mother to Ryan, the Down Syndrome boy I crush on. She is so down-to-earth and cool. I admire her dedication to her son and her non-DS daughter and her determination to make his life normal and treat both her children equally.
Rachel - she rocks. Her devotion to her husband during his extended unemployment teaches me true commitment and love. Their marriage is solid when others would suffer or end. She just plain rocks.
Beverly - although she is an in-law and that is family (in some states), she still inspires me.
Then of course, there's my main inspiration - Jesus. There's a whole book about Him and why I'm inspired.
3) What is the one thing on earth you wish you could afford but cannot?
Right now, we have everything we need. God has provided for our family - and then some. We don't have everything we want though. And that's ok.
I suppose I have to answer this way though. I wish I could buy the cutest clothes and shoes for my kids without the self-inflicted guilt-trip over the cost. (I gag at spending more than $25 on a pair of shoes for a kid who will outgrow them in 3 months! or $20 on jeans that she'll wear holes in the knees in 4 wearings!) I wish I could pay someone to clean my house every week. I wish I could pay for every dance class and music lesson and voice lesson Stinkerbell dreams of taking. I wish I could go on vacations to wherever I want. I wish I could visit Rachel and help her with her new baby coming ANY! DAY! NOW!
I wish I could pay someone to clean up my kitchen constantly.
4) Have you ever known an alcoholic and what was your impression of him/her? Was he/she in recovery?
Alcoholic? No. Narcotics? Yes. A dear friend (whose sons are our Godsons) celebrated her 7th year clean on April 15. She used codeine and similar rx meds. Her admission to rehab was terrifying and painful (physically and emotionally). She was in the hospital over Easter and observed her son's Easter basket via the hospital's lobbycam. She left the hospital and attended her NA meetings without hesitation. She earned her poker chips and regained trust from her husband and family. She made her amends and began life clean and sober.
Seven years ago, she earned my RESPECT.
5) Describe a situation where you saw God at work. How did it change your life?
Two years ago in February, The Mighty Hunter left his job as a claims adjuster for a major insurance company. He had great benefits and job security. He was very good at his job. He was also world-class miserable. (No one likes claims adjusters.) We had prayed and looked for years for a different job for him. His background with home-owners insurance policies and construction made several fileds appealing. But none were right. When the opportunity to sell windows and doors was presented, it felt good and promised a comparable (if not greater) income. We prayed. A lot. A Whole Lot. Leaving that big company, while very appealing, was very frightening.
Long story long - He worked for that sales company for 5 months before leaving it to start his own company doing the same thing - but doing it the right way. July 2007 will be 2 years since this second BIG STEP in faith and feeling God patting us on the head all the way. Our company now represents 4 window manufacturers, plus numerous door, roofing, decking, accessories lines. Monthly sales are unbelievably good. Profitability is sound. We employ 15+ people plus 12 sales reps - and take a great deal of pleasure in being able to provide them a good place to work with decent salaries.
Through our steps in faith, God is blessing us and those around us. It is exciting, but especially humbling, to be a part of that.
When friends ask how the business is going, I do my level best to say that God has been very generous. Saying He's been good is obvious, because He's always good. Sometimes He blesses us in ways that exceed our expectations and Wildest Dreams.
I can't wait to see what He has planned for us next year.
I've been thinking about myself lately. I have written before about how I do not like myself very much yet don't know what to change or how to go about it.
One of the things I dislike about myself is my lack of trust in other people. Not my parents, not my husband, but my friends. (not you Rachel!) But the friends that I don't talk to everyday. The friends that seem hot and cold to me, depending on the day.
I realize that Dr Phil would tell me that I'm insecure, and it's true. I am. One of the reasons I'm insecure is that I doubt the honesty of others. I doubt their sincerity when they tell me nice things about myself. When they make tentative plans with me or my daughter. When they talk about doing things with me mostly.
I have a good friend, whom I have also written about before. She is one of those beautiful, talented, intelligent, bubbly kind of people whom I admire and want to kill at the same time. She's very pleasant to be around, but I envy her style, her confidence, her ability to remember everyone's name (especially when I confuse my son's and the puppy's names,) and her fit-in-anywhere-with-anyone friendliness with the Clique of the wealthy and cool of our town and school.
I feel like I'm back in high school when my first "real" boyfriend dumped me and my "friends" rolled their eyes out their skulls at me over my intense broken heart. And told me they were tired of hearing about me and him. and would I shut up already! and did I know he was dating Shelley now - no wait! he's dating your close friend, Jennifer.
Shelley and I weren't close friends, but we ran in the same group of friends at school. Jennifer and I were thick as thieves. The friend who told me to shut up already was one of my closest friends also.
I realized this morning that I now doubt most everyone's sincerity in their friendships with me. I see their lips say "let's go to lunch" and then my brain translates it to "let's go to lunch, um, never, cause I don't really like you, and all I really want to do is talk about you and your nerdy shoes and how you should wear makeup everyday, cause seriously you need it...."
But I don't know if they really ever say that or think that about me. I don't. I only suspect it.
I sometimes think that when a person doesn't trust others, it's because they're not trustworthy themselves. If I apply this same principle to myself - I think they're hypocritical because I am hypocritical - I don't like it. I also don't agree.
not completely anyway
I do not make insincere invitations. I may make not-well-thought-out-and-unplanned invitations and have to rearrange things to make it happen. I do not complement a person when I secretly think the opposite. In general, I'm sincere and concerned about the feelings of others.
I think somewhere in this post are the reasons why my closest friends are my mom, Rachel (who lives in MN and I'm in AL) and an in-law.
So, now that I'm
26 36, and my daughter is preparing for 1st grade, I realize that I'm not in the "in" crowd of moms at her school and am reliving the whole high school dumped girlfriend who's a burden and bore to her friends and, also, very uncool.
And I'm lonely.
I want to have a group of friends that I can go to dinner with, go shopping with, fit in with - and TRUST. Mostly, the fit in thing. I don't know that I'll ever trust very much.
A playgroup is not the "thing" here that it is in other areas. Most of Stinkerbell's friend's moms work during the week. (Yes, I work too, SAHMs REALLY work.) When we've been invited to join them and their kids on a mutual day off from work for a trip to the park or something, the final plans never seem to get shared with me. "Hey, we're going to X on Wednesday, y'all want to go too? Great, I'll let you know when we're leaving." Wednesday came and went without mention of the invitation or the time to leave or where to meet.
I almost want to say "girls I have this ultimately cool van for the kids to ride in and would love to drive if you'll just include me," as I dangle the headphones to the dual dvd players in the hearests in front of their kids and taunt them with promises of being able to put their feet on the seats and eat ice cream and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and melt crayons in the seats.
Am I the only one who struggles in this way?
Am I disgustingly sad and does this drive away the possibility of friendships?
Am I right and most everyone is catty and back-stabbing and insincere?
I want more for myself. One of the reasons I want it so much, is that I see the possiblity that I'm teaching my habits to Stinkerbell. I want her to be cool and confident and happy and trusting and sincere and confident and unlike me and envied by her friends.
Is that wrong to want her (or myself) to be envied instead of envying others?
I'm afraid that I'm leading her down my path of loneliness and outsiderdom and wanting more out of friendships. I need to lead by example but don't know how.
I need an example of my own.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
A horrible thing is about to happen.
Horr i bulllllll.
Our tv, a mid-1990's model Sony big screen, just began acting nutso.
The HGTV icon is all yellow with a purple ghost behind it.
The only thing I can imagine that would be worse is if the air conditioner died and took the broadband with it.
What will I do without my
babysitter educational television during this summer break from school?
And since I brought it up...
Who's genius idea was it for school to take summer breaks longer than a mommy can take without threatening to de-bark her child?
Really. Am I supposed to enjoy the fact that my daughter has learned to spell and can hack our parentspeak with her superior kindergarten intellect? If I pay my taxes for the public school teachers to earn a slightly-above-poverty-level salary, shouldn't they do this job year-round?
Don't get me wrong. I ADORE my daughter. She's my best friend. My role model. She's smart, talented, beautiful, sweet, and everything I want her to be and would like to be myself one day when I grow up.
But FOR THE LOVE OF CHOCOLATE! Couldn't those public school educators teach her to SHUT UP!!!
Don't tell me how long summer breaks are. And don't tell me that they repeat every dang year. And, please, PUHLEAZE don't tell me I'll miss her when school starts again in a few
days weeks months. Right now, I just have to make it through the day without wiping her smart-aleck look off her face and pulling her ponytail hard! to make her stop sassing me.
The Mighty Hunter revealed to me during our trip to Dauphin Island recently, that he has a hunting trip planned to either Kentucky or Illinois (does it really matter where?), and he will be leaving the day immediately AFTER our 15th anniversary.
How do you think that went over?
Oh yeah. He got the guilt-trip entree with sides of spite and sarcasm, paired perfectly with the finest glass of the most subtle whine you can imagine.
So, he has asked me if I would like to go to the beautiful Smokey Mountains the weekend before, which happens to be Labor Day.
We planned our wedding to fall around a major federal holiday because you get a long weekend to help you celebrate with the jacked-up hotel rates and padded gas prices. So, we need to book our lodging, like yesterday, so that we can, you know, go.
But it looks like a tv might be our anniversary celebration instead.
Ever the optimist... I am looking forward to the laundry and packing fun that is my OCD.
Living here in the beautiful NE corner of Alabama, we are within driving distance of many wonderful places to visit. Having a newborn breas+fed baby (that may be weaned to a bottle by then, not sure yet, still thinking that over), I have a few limitations I will place on our anniversary travels...
- Half-day's drive or less. We can reach the Gulf Coast in 6-8 hours. That's a little difficult to handle with milk factories building reserves on my chest.
- Smokey Mountains are great. But I'd like something a little different/new.
- Mountains are our preferred vacationy landscape.
- The Mighty Hunter hates cities, but I love me some shopping and good restaurants.
- Kid-friendly is a plus, but not a requirement. Stinkerbell expects to go everywhere I go, but she may get to spend! the! night! with her Nanny and Pa.
- Flying is not out of the question, but remember the infant and his tender ears and the story The Mighty Hunter heard about a newborn who flew one! time! and lost its hearing to the rupturing of eardrums and the irresponsible choices of the parents. (I say stick a pappy or a nippy in his pie-hole and his ears will pop and not EXPLODE!)
- I love history and historical places. I would LOVE to spend a month in Virginia and roam around there. That trip will probably wait until we are independently wealthy. um, yeah.
So, send me your suggestions for me so that I can capitalize completely on The Mighty Hunter's poor hunting trip timing.
Also, if you have some really good jabs that I can throw at him if he starts to object or defend himself, I'd love to use them. So I can be witty and all "the readers of my blog - yes! there are readerSSSS - told me to tell you ___________!"
Have yourselves a great Wednesday evening!
I'm hungry! Left-over boneless wings! yummmm
edited to add: The Mighty Hunter's dad is now cancer free. I realize that I didn't make it clear that he is a survivor. Sorry for any confusion. Also, some very sweet comments from y'all. Thanks!
The charitable cause that is dearest to my heart is The American Cancer Society.
June 30, 2007, will be 7 years since The Mighty Hunter's mother died. She had a very rare form of leukemia. The Mighty Hunter had prostate cancer and surgery for it in November 2006. When I was 5, my first cousin, died at age 10 of bone cancer. The Migthy Hunter's grandfather died of prostate cancer. Several of his great-aunts and uncles have also died of cancer.
His cancer risks are terrifying.
Our cancer losses are heart-breaking.
Each year, I attend our area's Relay for Life. I always take Stinkerbell. I think it is important for her to understand that sometimes the people we love get sick. Sometimes they die, but many times they survive. I want her to understand that I do this each year to remember how much I miss her grandmother. She never knew her grandmother; I was 6 weeks pregnant when she died. It is one night where I know we'll talk about her grandmother and how funny and smart and pretty and special she was. Our memories are all she'll ever have of her grandmother, but she can create her own memories of doing something in her memory.
Something to help others.
Find a Relay for Life in your area and attend. The event is generally free. But it is a fund-raiser. So, take some cash and support the Relay Teams with your donations.
Beverly was asking me what I found out about my knee yesterday. My answer? "he has soft hands. and they touched my knee and ankle. and he has a great sense of humor! and I hope my sandals didn't stink."
And that's EXACTLY what she was wanting to know.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Good news. I finally got to see my pretty pretty orthopedist today. Yes, he is still a pretty pretty man. And, yes, he's still happily married with 3 kids. But a post partum mom can dream, right?
More good news. My knee was much better last night and even more so this morning. But because I had already set my heart on seeing my pretty pretty orthopedist, I kept my appointment. I'd hate to disappoint him and leave an exam room vacant.
Even more good news. Xrays showed no fractures at all, no surprise. Knee is just bruised and should turn a
hideous cool shade of purple and green soon. Ice and heat and rest and elevation and compression bandage. It should continue to heal on its own over the next few weeks.
Still more good news. I didn't need a return appointment.
Bad news. I don't need a return appointment to see my pretty pretty orthopedist.
Possibly a little good news. If it doesn't improve and continues to swell for another 4 weeks, I should come back and see my pretty pretty orthopedist, possibly an MRI (which would require yet another
rendezvous appointment, and then maybe physical therapy. There are some nice looking physical therapists too.
I have one question. And if you know the answer, then you MUST share it with me...
What is this "rest" thing? Can you buy it at W-M? I wonder what it sells for on e-Bay. Does it make its own mess that I have to clean up too? Can I use it a little bit at a time and save some for a "rainy day"?
I've gotta get me some of this "rest" stuff.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
I could guess that Stinkerbell's diet over the last few days hasn't had any significant changes. Hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, okra, corn, milk, cheerios, apple juice, lemonade, chocolate chip cookies, icing cookies. You know, healthy stuff.
But GOOD GRIEF! She was fumigating the house yesterday.
"Stinkerbell, did you just poot?"
"Go to the bathroom! You stink!"
"But I don't need to poop."
"Either you need to poop a LOT or something has died inside of you!"
"I don't need to poop, Mommy. It's my animal smell."
"um. uhhh. hmmm. errr. what? Your what?"
"It's the smell of my retend animal fur. You know, wike a skunk. To keep lions away."
"Yeah. Well, it'll work. Go poop."
"I tried awhile ago and couldn't."
4 hours later, during A Night at the Museum (very funny, very good movie). "I'll be right back."
"Turn on the fan and close the door!!!! cough cough gag"
Bless her heart. I hope she will at LEAST say "excuse me" when she poots like that in school. Cause I KNOW she won't think ahead and ask to go to the bathroom first. Those poor kids.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
I'm so excited! We have several gals getting ready to join our Bible study. squeeeee!
If you're wanting to join in (even if you just want to read along and "listen in" to our discussions), you need to join the Google Group. If you haven't already joined, or I haven't invited you to join, then click here.
You can request membership from the group homepage, or you can email me and I can add you directly.
email me at the address below, removing the spaces...
auburn gal always @ gmail.com
Get your book. As soon as we are all ready, we'll get started... next week maybe?
I'm sooooooo ready for this.
Yesterday was just loads of fun.
I needed to help The Mighty Hunter by securing the wireless network at his showroom. So, I gathered Stinkerbell and Lucky and enough diapers and crayons and construction paper to entertain and cover the butts of the population of Rhode Island, packed them into backpacks for Stinkerbell to carry down the stairs.
I was wearing a pair of sandals different from my faves for the first time this summer. My faves were smelling like someone else's feet. Because mine don't smell like feet. ahem
Stinkerbell was toting the backpacks down the stairs to the garage (in the basement) ahead of me. I was coming behind with Lucky in his car seat carrier thingy.
Halfway down the stairs the carpet grabs the toes on my right foot.
The sandals temporarily disables my right foot.
I clumsily drag my toe on the carpet like a doofus.
Probably the last one.
anyhoo. In slow motion, I went down. In my head, I said a prayer to protect my baby. From my mouth came something not nearly as wholesome and Christiany. "ooooooooooohhhhhhhh sh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!+."
The crash test results of a mommy falling down stairs with her child in his Graco SnugRide, ramming said carseat into a wall of very ugly 1970s panelling, mommy's knee hitting car seat's bottom portion of carseat near baby's feet?
Mommy's knee? swollen and going to sport a very big bruise. Mommy's ankle that twisted as she fell down the stairs? stiff and achy. Mommy's elbow with a mysterious abrasion? ouch. Mommy's right shoulder? fine yesterday, but stiff and sore this morning.
Lucky was fine. It scared him and he cried for a few moments. Stinkerbell was also scared. She calmed down and entertained Lucky until I realized my knee cap was not broken and I could indeed move and bend my leg. I can walk, but I can't put all of my weight on that leg and can't climb stairs normally.
This is one of those times when you think of what might have happened. Stinkerbell could have been 5 seconds slower getting off the bottom step and would have been squished. There very likely would have been broken bones. It would have been horrible. But I'll be ok. I'll limp around for a few days.
I may go see my handsome orthopaedist Monday. That means I'll have to figure out how to shave my legs without bending my right knee. And, no, I'm not that flexible. I wonder if I can talk The Mighty Hunter into putting some of that Veet on me. Any opinions/experience with it?
My middle name is Sue, not Grace. I tell you this because I know you're gonna ask.