The Value of Not Giving A Fig

We're going on vacation in just 3 days, down to Saint Simon's Island.We've never been there, and are pretty excited as you can imagine. Part of getting ready for an island vacation is making sure you have all the requisite island things - sunscreen, flip flops, swimsuits.

The girl needed a new swimsuit, so we popped over to Target to see what the little girl's section might have in store.

I got a hard lesson in body image and self confidence in the dressing room with my 4 year old. I would be shaking, in tears, and reluctant to try any of them on, much less really look in the mirror. The girl? The girl felt differently.

We'd chosen four suits, two full tank suits and two bikini type suits. As she tried them on, she danced and preened in front of the mirror. She poofed out her belly until it was round in the bikini, struck a crazy pose and cackled "LOOK AT MAH BIG BELLEH!". She stuck poses in each, declared her self SO SO SO CUTE and I was amazed that I was watching a human female try on a swimsuit. This was an aberration of every experience I could recall.

The last few times I've tried on a bathing suit, it's been to make sure I had all my bits covered and that I didn't have spiders. I avert actually looking at myself for any reason. There isn't anything I want to see in that mirror. In fact, there is lots that I don't want to see.

The four year old, however, has none of those issues. She laughs when the top is too short, shakes her bootie and does a little dance gleefully suit to suit. They're all fine, they're all perfect. It turns out that the Hello Kitty suit is more perfect than the others (WHICH IS HOW IT SHOULD BE).

Where does that stop? That glee and joy over just having something new and cute, vs whether I am new and cute IN it? The thing doesn't stop being cute because it's on me, but how did my mind make that change? When did it happen?

I have a totally cute suit that does fit me and it doesn't even have a swim skirt because I will never, ever be so fat I require a swim skirt (or I will never, ever don a swimsuit again by all the Gods I swear this). It actually kind of will look cute with Julia's as it's the same color combination - pink and black.

I have to turn my mind into a four year old, and learn to be happy regardless of how I look. I need to find whatever magic wand makes that happen though.

Does anyone know where it is?
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The Value of Not Giving A Fig

We're going on vacation in just 3 days, down to Saint Simon's Island.We've never been there, and are pretty excited as you can imagine. Part of getting ready for an island vacation is making sure you have all the requisite island things - sunscreen, flip flops, swimsuits.

The girl needed a new swimsuit, so we popped over to Target to see what the little girl's section might have in store.

I got a hard lesson in body image and self confidence in the dressing room with my 4 year old. I would be shaking, in tears, and reluctant to try any of them on, much less really look in the mirror. The girl? The girl felt differently.

We'd chosen four suits, two full tank suits and two bikini type suits. As she tried them on, she danced and preened in front of the mirror. She poofed out her belly until it was round in the bikini, struck a crazy pose and cackled "LOOK AT MAH BIG BELLEH!". She stuck poses in each, declared her self SO SO SO CUTE and I was amazed that I was watching a human female try on a swimsuit. This was an aberration of every experience I could recall.

The last few times I've tried on a bathing suit, it's been to make sure I had all my bits covered and that I didn't have spiders. I avert actually looking at myself for any reason. There isn't anything I want to see in that mirror. In fact, there is lots that I don't want to see.

The four year old, however, has none of those issues. She laughs when the top is too short, shakes her bootie and does a little dance gleefully suit to suit. They're all fine, they're all perfect. It turns out that the Hello Kitty suit is more perfect than the others (WHICH IS HOW IT SHOULD BE).

Where does that stop? That glee and joy over just having something new and cute, vs whether I am new and cute IN it? The thing doesn't stop being cute because it's on me, but how did my mind make that change? When did it happen?

I have a totally cute suit that does fit me and it doesn't even have a swim skirt because I will never, ever be so fat I require a swim skirt (or I will never, ever don a swimsuit again by all the Gods I swear this). It actually kind of will look cute with Julia's as it's the same color combination - pink and black.

I have to turn my mind into a four year old, and learn to be happy regardless of how I look. I need to find whatever magic wand makes that happen though.

Does anyone know where it is?
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I'm The One Who Leaves

My friend Dave got an awesome job in Mobile and is moving away today. 

This is all wrong.

I'm the one who gets the new job, I'm the one who moves away. 

Dave, Chuck and I have hung out and eaten lunch together for the past few years now, nearly every day. It's probably safe to say that we three odd ducks made kindred spirits over lunch time and so, today is going to be really sad when I have to say goodbye. 

The lunch bunch will never be the same without you.

But I know your new gig is going to be great.

I'm The One Who Leaves

My friend Dave got an awesome job in Mobile and is moving away today. 

This is all wrong.

I'm the one who gets the new job, I'm the one who moves away. 

Dave, Chuck and I have hung out and eaten lunch together for the past few years now, nearly every day. It's probably safe to say that we three odd ducks made kindred spirits over lunch time and so, today is going to be really sad when I have to say goodbye. 

The lunch bunch will never be the same without you.

But I know your new gig is going to be great.

Falling Apart at 45

I'm falling apart. I'm going to the doctor this morning because I'm falling apart. This literal and metaphorical falling apart started Friday.

On Friday I trimmed my toenails, with the idea that I would paint them Saturday morning. While sitting with my feet up and I looked down and saw that one of my toenails, a couple of hours POST trimming, was bubbled up like a turtle shell. I mumbled an expletive and reached down to touch it.

AND IT FELL OFF. Now I am toenail-less on that toe. It didn't hurt. It was just odd. It still doesn't hurt.

The same thing happened on two more toes the next morning. Falling apart I tell you.

Sunday came and my blood sugar dropped out of nowhere. I was getting the kids breakfast ready when the hollow ears, melty dizzy feeling started, and before I could even get food in my mouth, I broke out into a raging sweat and started shaking. It took me way to long to recover. It happened again yesterday at work, and despite checking my blood sugar at work about an hour after scarfing something down, I was 115 but still felt like hell. I never shook that bad "other wordly" feeling.

I have another problem. We're not even going to talk about that one, THAT'S how bad it is.

So I'm going to my new doctor and she's going to check all sorts of things out on me today.

Someone I work with suggested it was menopause. I suppose it could be but I'm going to cry for about a day if it is. I'm still not ready. You can't make me go through the change you can't!

But I'm going because at 45 I don't want to drop dead due to not checking out warning signs and hell toenails falling off are surely a warning sign of SOMETHING.



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Falling Apart at 45

I'm falling apart. I'm going to the doctor this morning because I'm falling apart. This literal and metaphorical falling apart started Friday.

On Friday I trimmed my toenails, with the idea that I would paint them Saturday morning. While sitting with my feet up and I looked down and saw that one of my toenails, a couple of hours POST trimming, was bubbled up like a turtle shell. I mumbled an expletive and reached down to touch it.

AND IT FELL OFF. Now I am toenail-less on that toe. It didn't hurt. It was just odd. It still doesn't hurt.

The same thing happened on two more toes the next morning. Falling apart I tell you.

Sunday came and my blood sugar dropped out of nowhere. I was getting the kids breakfast ready when the hollow ears, melty dizzy feeling started, and before I could even get food in my mouth, I broke out into a raging sweat and started shaking. It took me way to long to recover. It happened again yesterday at work, and despite checking my blood sugar at work about an hour after scarfing something down, I was 115 but still felt like hell. I never shook that bad "other wordly" feeling.

I have another problem. We're not even going to talk about that one, THAT'S how bad it is.

So I'm going to my new doctor and she's going to check all sorts of things out on me today.

Someone I work with suggested it was menopause. I suppose it could be but I'm going to cry for about a day if it is. I'm still not ready. You can't make me go through the change you can't!

But I'm going because at 45 I don't want to drop dead due to not checking out warning signs and hell toenails falling off are surely a warning sign of SOMETHING.



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Eater of Pre-licked Corn

Our three day weekend of family time and laziness is at an end. I knew going into it that we wouldn't be going out and about doing much, so spending time doing stuff with the kids was going to be the main menu, which is as it should be.

My son decided that it was a GODZILLA weekend. The proof of how much I love him is in that I sat through 3 90's era GODZILLA movies, and have one more on tap yet. I was experienced with the older movies, the ones from I don't know what era, that they used to show for free at the Artcraft theater in the summers. The versions from the 90s spent too much time developing plots, seriously just bring out the monsters. I feel like there could be a whole franchise of these movies just made in professional wrestling style. Two monsters enter, one monster leaves...you know, like Auntie Infinity likes.

We also played with the hose and got unbelievably wet and gross. This seemed to be a big hit among the tiny humans at my house. Charlie believes the hose is best served by directly putting it to your chest.

Julia and her friend Temper played hopscotch and ran around the yard like nuts. Playing outside was probably my kids favorite part of the weekend, apart the wry repartee in the Godzilla movies.

My favorite part was watching Jim Nabors sing at the Indy 500. I cried my EYES out and when he got to chime in with GENTLEMEN START YOUR ENGINES I cried again. All my memories of rushing to the track "before Gomer sings" came flooding back and the younger version of me sat screaming at the TV for three hours. I even had a beer. Well it was one beer. It took me three hours to drink it.

My Hoosier "just make do" self made a bad decision at dinner time though. I decided that surely half a chimney of charcoal was enough. Yeah I'd make do, it would be ok, no problem. Grilling corn and steaks, it was not ok. I couldn't get enough heat going to make it do much more than slightly brown the meat, and warm the corn. The husks got a bit crispy on some but not like awesome grilled corn should be. Eventually it was late, and we had to finish them both in the kitchen and surrender to reality.

Even partially grilled corn is far superior to just plain old boiled corn. That smokey flavor and deliciousness was still there. We topped it off with parmesan and butter, and Louis and I were as happy as being at the fair. I was thinking about over our weekend, of playing outside, and Godzilla, and just spending time together and it was about then as my mind wandered during conversation that my husband asked if I wanted Miles ear of corn. He wasn't eating it.

What he had done, after getting it buttered and parm covered, was sit and lick it for about five minutes, possibly longer.His face was covered in butter and little white flecks of cheese on either side of his mouth. Louis said "Eww you're not serious?"

I picked up Miles corn and buttered it up. "Louis, I gave birth to you all,I'm not afraid to eat after you."

He stared at me like I was crazy as I cheesed it and began to eat. He opted for a fresh ear as I dined on the pre-licked version. And that is probably my favorite moment of our holiday weekend.

Having a family to share pre-licked ears of corn with, is the best thing ever.


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Eater of Pre-licked Corn

Our three day weekend of family time and laziness is at an end. I knew going into it that we wouldn't be going out and about doing much, so spending time doing stuff with the kids was going to be the main menu, which is as it should be.

My son decided that it was a GODZILLA weekend. The proof of how much I love him is in that I sat through 3 90's era GODZILLA movies, and have one more on tap yet. I was experienced with the older movies, the ones from I don't know what era, that they used to show for free at the Artcraft theater in the summers. The versions from the 90s spent too much time developing plots, seriously just bring out the monsters. I feel like there could be a whole franchise of these movies just made in professional wrestling style. Two monsters enter, one monster leaves...you know, like Auntie Infinity likes.

We also played with the hose and got unbelievably wet and gross. This seemed to be a big hit among the tiny humans at my house. Charlie believes the hose is best served by directly putting it to your chest.

Julia and her friend Temper played hopscotch and ran around the yard like nuts. Playing outside was probably my kids favorite part of the weekend, apart the wry repartee in the Godzilla movies.

My favorite part was watching Jim Nabors sing at the Indy 500. I cried my EYES out and when he got to chime in with GENTLEMEN START YOUR ENGINES I cried again. All my memories of rushing to the track "before Gomer sings" came flooding back and the younger version of me sat screaming at the TV for three hours. I even had a beer. Well it was one beer. It took me three hours to drink it.

My Hoosier "just make do" self made a bad decision at dinner time though. I decided that surely half a chimney of charcoal was enough. Yeah I'd make do, it would be ok, no problem. Grilling corn and steaks, it was not ok. I couldn't get enough heat going to make it do much more than slightly brown the meat, and warm the corn. The husks got a bit crispy on some but not like awesome grilled corn should be. Eventually it was late, and we had to finish them both in the kitchen and surrender to reality.

Even partially grilled corn is far superior to just plain old boiled corn. That smokey flavor and deliciousness was still there. We topped it off with parmesan and butter, and Louis and I were as happy as being at the fair. I was thinking about over our weekend, of playing outside, and Godzilla, and just spending time together and it was about then as my mind wandered during conversation that my husband asked if I wanted Miles ear of corn. He wasn't eating it.

What he had done, after getting it buttered and parm covered, was sit and lick it for about five minutes, possibly longer.His face was covered in butter and little white flecks of cheese on either side of his mouth. Louis said "Eww you're not serious?"

I picked up Miles corn and buttered it up. "Louis, I gave birth to you all,I'm not afraid to eat after you."

He stared at me like I was crazy as I cheesed it and began to eat. He opted for a fresh ear as I dined on the pre-licked version. And that is probably my favorite moment of our holiday weekend.

Having a family to share pre-licked ears of corn with, is the best thing ever.


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And So It Begins or Continues Or Whatever

Louis is 11. He is still the sweet, gentle loving child he has always been. However, over the past few weeks, something has been creeping around my sweet boy.

I believe it's the onset of the dreaded TEENAGE times.

My husband tells me I have said this 100 times but I AM GOING TO SAY IT ONE MORE. He flat out refused to play checkers with me. Because it was a "DORA" checkers board. I THOUGHT IT WAS A CUTE BOARD OMG WHO CARES WHAT THE CHARACTERS ARE?

HE does.

Nor would he play Old Maid. "I'm not playing with those baby games." He declared. He removed the box of Dora themed games from his closet, where they were stashed, declaring them not fit for his closet because, again, they are baby games.

His school just had a sock hop, and while we would normally have gone, at least one of us, he told us he didn't want us to come.

I AM GOING TO CHAPERONE EVERYTHING FROM NOW ON YOU CAN'T KEEP ME OUT YOUNG MAN.

He refused to wear a tee shirt with TMNT on it. It wasn't like a baby/little kid kind of shirt, it was kind of a cool vintage look - I thought it was ok. He rejected it out of hand.

He rolls his eyes, he sighs in exasperation at us. (ok I sigh, that's probably my fault). WHAT IS GOING ON WITH MY CHILD????

Oh yeah I know, I know exactly what is going on.

It's puberty. It's the beginning of me not understanding him, at least in his mind. It's the end of him always being excited to spend time with us. I am regretting every minute I didn't give him right now at this minute because they're over. I messed up. Why am I sitting here I bet I could get him to do something with me right now if I played it right.

It's not all doom though. Well not yet.

Last night, when he went to bed, he slipped into bed beside me and said he needed Mommy Snuggles. Which he got and then some. There might have also been kisses and squeezes and whispers about how much I love him.

The part I've dreaded is upon me. I guess now we'll see what kind of young man we created. I think he's a good one. Time will tell.

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And So It Begins or Continues Or Whatever

Louis is 11. He is still the sweet, gentle loving child he has always been. However, over the past few weeks, something has been creeping around my sweet boy.

I believe it's the onset of the dreaded TEENAGE times.

My husband tells me I have said this 100 times but I AM GOING TO SAY IT ONE MORE. He flat out refused to play checkers with me. Because it was a "DORA" checkers board. I THOUGHT IT WAS A CUTE BOARD OMG WHO CARES WHAT THE CHARACTERS ARE?

HE does.

Nor would he play Old Maid. "I'm not playing with those baby games." He declared. He removed the box of Dora themed games from his closet, where they were stashed, declaring them not fit for his closet because, again, they are baby games.

His school just had a sock hop, and while we would normally have gone, at least one of us, he told us he didn't want us to come.

I AM GOING TO CHAPERONE EVERYTHING FROM NOW ON YOU CAN'T KEEP ME OUT YOUNG MAN.

He refused to wear a tee shirt with TMNT on it. It wasn't like a baby/little kid kind of shirt, it was kind of a cool vintage look - I thought it was ok. He rejected it out of hand.

He rolls his eyes, he sighs in exasperation at us. (ok I sigh, that's probably my fault). WHAT IS GOING ON WITH MY CHILD????

Oh yeah I know, I know exactly what is going on.

It's puberty. It's the beginning of me not understanding him, at least in his mind. It's the end of him always being excited to spend time with us. I am regretting every minute I didn't give him right now at this minute because they're over. I messed up. Why am I sitting here I bet I could get him to do something with me right now if I played it right.

It's not all doom though. Well not yet.

Last night, when he went to bed, he slipped into bed beside me and said he needed Mommy Snuggles. Which he got and then some. There might have also been kisses and squeezes and whispers about how much I love him.

The part I've dreaded is upon me. I guess now we'll see what kind of young man we created. I think he's a good one. Time will tell.

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