Must Give Parents Credit Where Credit is Due

I don't have kids of my own, not by choice, but I do have numerous nieces and nephews.  I know it's not the same, but it's what I have, and I am dealing with what I have been given.  I often envy mothers for the treasure they've been blessed with.  I know what some of you mothers are thinking, "She's off her rocker!" If I were in your shoes, I may be saying the same, but I'm not and probably won't be, so my vision is a bit skewed.  Indulge me, because I think you will appreciate what I have to say.

You know the quote, "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry"?  That is what happened early this morning.  I had planned to do a few DIY projects at the house today, but I was in no hurry to get out of bed.  As a matter of fact, I was passed out and in a very dreamy state when my phone pulled me out.  Lately, I've been sleeping through the melody, but today I was easily yanked "off stage right" by it at 7am.

I was being asked to play mommy for the day.  My two littlest nieces were the only ones that were in good health in a house of six.  Their mother was too weak to care for them and the rest of the house was not fairing much better.  I, of course, agreed to the undertaking of such an awesome responsibility.  Why wouldn't I? They are my nieces, and I love them to pieces.

I knew I would not be able to get my projects done for the day, but I figured I could definitely get some chores done that I had planned to put off until tomorrow.  That should be the easiest thing, right? Uh, yeah... Not really.  It is definitely something you have to be used to.  I watch them often, but never really for more than four hours by myself.  Usually, I just leave a hole in my day, so that I can spend time playing games, having tea, building castles out of chairs and blankets or seeing what Mickey Mouse's latest escapade was that week.

I picked them up and brought them over to my home. After bringing their items in, I began to cook their breakfast while attempting to make myself a much needed cup of coffee.  I am no good in the mornings without my medium-dark roast.  I have a Keurig machine so it couldn't be easier, right?  I mean all you do is pop a K-cup in, turn it on, once the blue light flashes, close it up, press the appropriate size (LARGE today) and viola, a deliciously aromatic cup of joe.  For some reason, it wasn't so simple today.

I nearly burned the eggs, because I had lost focus and was staring down the toaster instead of the stove.  I finished making our breakfast and sat down with them to eat a slice of toast. I only realized I'd forgotten my coffee when I went to reach for the cup I thought I'd brought to the table with me.  I went to the kitchen and couldn't find my favorite insulated cup--that I wash daily just to use it--the blue lights are flashing, and I still have the apple juice container sitting on the counter.  I go to put it away, and find my cup, sitting where the apple juice bottle had been shelved earlier.

How do you mothers get through your mornings?!  Although, in my defense, I was awakened off schedule, I hope structure helps you all get through.

The day progressed pretty well.  After breakfast, and my second cup of coffee, I got the girls dressed (forcibly with the youngest), and went to our kid-friendly room in the house--the Disney room.  We played a little before I decided I needed to clean up breakfast and I thought, "why not?"  I may as well clean the entire kitchen.  Oh, if only.

Only thirty seconds in the kitchen and I hear the toddling little feet heading in my direction.  It started out innocently enough with a simple request to watch Snow White.  Then another request to sit for this one part I had to see--"Watch this, it's good. No not that part, it's coming. Sit here with me." She pats the couch and I obey like a good auntie.  About halfway through the movie, I tried to get up again, but it was drawing time!  Something to do while watching the movie.  I figured it was no big deal, because the busier they were, the busier I could get at cleaning the house.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Lunch happened soon after that, and of course we couldn't agree on one meal, so I made three.  Last night's leftovers for me, PB&J with carrot sticks for the little and grilled cheese with carrot sticks and apple junks for the littlest little.  Then it was time for Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, because the little buggers remembered that I'd said they could watch it after lunch.  Since I hadn't been clear enough on the timing of said viewing, the loophole I'd left allowed a minor manipulation in the agreement.  These kids are good!  Little angels!

Someone needs to put a camera on a kid from the time of their birth and figure out when they begin to gain skills in manipulation and debate.

Of course, littlest little one decides I need to sit and promptly crawls onto my lap and cuddles against my chest.  She passes out within five minutes of doing so, and the other little is asking for a snack.  I told her that she could have one when littlest little woke from her nap.  I take the cuddler to the Disney room and lie her down, and yay for me, she didn't even stir!  Ten minutes later little miss "I have to have a snack now" conks out.

PEACE at last!

Now there came a debate between my head and my body.  Do I nap with them, knowing perfectly well that I may not be sleeping tonight, or do I get some work done around the house?  House won. Damnit!  Although, in hindsight, I suppose it didn't really matter much.  While I was able to get the dishwasher loaded and running, Littlest Little awoke ten minutes later and attempted to rouse her still sleeping older sister.  That was a battle.  I tried to get her to hang with me in the Disney room, but she really wanted her sister.

Before I knew it, the older little woke up, I gave them their snack and we Skyped with another aunt of their's.  All of a sudden I look at the clock and it is nearly 6pm and I hadn't even begun to cook dinner.  I rushed in, started dinner and found out that the dear, sweet man that I call my husband, was not going to be home for dinner.  LUCKY!

The older little came into the kitchen and told me that her tummy hurt. I asked if she felt like food was going to come out of her mouth or if she felt like the potty would help. She chose the latter and when she came back out, she seemed okay.  I was finishing up dinner when she came in and told me that she wasn't hungry, and she began to cry. HARD.  I texted her mother--because I didn't want to wake her--let her know what all was going on and asked her what she would like me to do.

Twenty minutes later, just as I'm getting the kids in their carseats, Mama and Daddy show up to take them home.  I had been with those two toddlers for less than ten hours.  I was exhausted and didn't realize that I had once again overstretched a muscle near my ribs, until I bent to pick up a cracker off the floor.

You stay-at-home mothers and fathers...I don't know whether to envy you or give you a medal for all that you go through on a daily basis.  You need a lot of patience, a phonetic toddler to adult glossary, be willing to give up control and give up sleep.

I won't call you saints, because no one wants to live up to that kind of ideal, but you are damn near.  I have never been so exhausted in my life, and I had painfully intense physical therapy not too long ago.  I applaud your every effort.  How you keep your sanity when there is so much chaos to be dealt with, I'll probably never know.  I don't believe anyone could truly fathom it.

I cleaned seven spills, wiped down the bathroom three times, kept a toddler from eating dog food and a dog treat, picked up the playroom twice, stood guard over Timeout Tower, etc...Long ass day.

Friend or Foe?

There's an old saying which I believe came from Sun Tzu's "The Art of War":

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

This is so absolutely true, but what happens when you find out your friend was your enemy after all? 

This was a topic of conversation today.  A friend of mine found that one of her friends is a rather good actress when it comes to playing the friend part.  She'd thought this person to be her best friend.  Through the grapevine, she'd recently found that this was actually not the case.  The messenger relayed this sobering information to my friend by citing a particular instance between my friend and her supposed bestie.  She was devastated! I found myself not knowing what to say to her to help her feel better.  I couldn't even begin to guess what I would want anyone to say to me.  

After a few hours, a few more conversations, some relaxation and a shower, I finally realized some things. It's a shock to one's system, and they're not quite sure what to do with that information. They're hurt and may even be a bit on the defensive their first communiqué with that person.  With that first after-the-fact encounter, do they then discuss what has come to light or act like a duck and let it roll off their back?

This is why I don't have many friends. I have been burned by that very platitude more than once.  I've learned, as cynical as it may sound, that I can count on no one but myself.  If I am disappointed, I have myself to blame.  If I am saddened, I have no one to chastise except myself.  

There are those that say that no one can hurt you unless you allow them to.  I agree with this for the most part, but there are things beyond what little control we hold onto that can surprise the hell out of us.  We get broadsided by the shock of it.  The impact of it resonates through every bone of our body, shaking the very fiber of our being so much so that it cripples us for a time.

Why is it that what our best friends say to us wound us so deeply?  

When we say we have a best friend, we're saying that we have finally found that person--outside of our family--that we can trust with our inner most secrets.  We don't expect them to judge.  We fully expect that they will stand by our side, no matter the situation.  

Sadly, reality eventually hits for most of us, and we come to the realization that what we have is yet another hum-drum "friend"...not a best friend. 

People just have a lot of growing up to do.  I know this is true for me, but I have learned quite a bit from my harried past.  

For example, judging someone is not my job.  I may not appreciate things certain people do or the way they do them, but it isn't my place to tell them what they've done wrong.  I couldn't honestly say that in that moment I wouldn't have done the same.  Also, do I know for sure that the other way "I would have done things" would have been correct?

Opinions run amuck.  Everyone has an opinion.  It is our unfortunate job to listen to all of them.  We don't have to take them in, but if we don't allow them to be spoken, we are perceived as ignorant or uncooperative.  It just better to deal with it.

If, for whatever reason, someone steps in and tries to help you with your situation, however unwanted it may be, thank them.  You may still POLITELY turn them away, but thank them for their efforts nonetheless.

Don't sweat the small stuff.  They're never worth the amount of pain they cause when allowed to fester.

Why Can't People Just Leave It Be?

A funny thing happened on the way to blog...

Life!

So a lot has happened since I last blogged...obviously, since it has been well over a month since I last wrote. Much happiness and many frustrations.  I should have enough material to write about in the WEEKS to come.  Thus begins another entry...

--<--{@}-->--

It amazes me how some people always feel they have a solution to YOUR problem. I may be guilty of this also, I can admit that, but if someone tells me they're done, I'm done. No more probing or prodding, I just stop.  This is not the way of others and it gets a bit ridiculous.

I've told people over and over again that I am done. D.O.N.E. DONE! There's nothing I can do that won't cost me money that I really don't have.  Yet, numerous people just keep coming at me with a "solution". I've seen the solutions. I am a research geek! If it exists, I can find it.  I've done all the reading on the subject. Checked my financial resources and it just is not possible.

I've told people over and over that I have given in. I can't go any farther on the matter, so we're just living life as it has been handed to us.  I accept my role in life, and I am dealing with it to the best of my ability.  I sometimes crack under the pressure of someone else's announcement, but that is to be expected.

Have I completely confused you yet?

Let me ask this...
Have you ever wanted something so badly, that you've looked down every single avenue and all of their side streets and cracks in the walls that you could think of or find?  Gone to great lengths, even done some things that made you personally uncomfortable or scared?  Anything and everything just to get to where you so desperately want to be?

I have. I spent the better part of eight years, exhausting myself and my husband.  We finally sat down two years ago and discussed our next step. There was none. We decided to end the stress and accept it. We are fine with our decision, but our families just won't quit. If it were just one or two people, maybe I could deal, but it's coming from all sides and it's just not right.  We'd told EVERYONE. We are not interested in talking about the subject anymore.  Subject closed.  THE END.

Hey there Einstein! Why is it so difficult for you to get the picture?  The solution exists, yes, but it can not be done at this time. Which, given the time-frame we have to work with...

It's not happening. Sorry to disappoint, but can we please move on and cut the bull?

Weight and the Act of Fluctuation

"With fame, you know, you can read about yourself, somebody else's ideas about you, but what's important is how you feel about yourself--for survival and living day to day with what comes up."

~Marlyn Monroe

I don't like talking about weight.  Why?  Because it's depressing.  It's not a real number. The reason I say that is because weight's only consistency is that it fluctuates.  Whether you're thin, overweight, or obese it's always changing.

I know I gained weight last year. It wasn't much (twelve pounds), but I was already overweight to begin with.  Okay, let's be honest.  According to the BMI (Body Mass Index), I am obese. I know what my "ideal" weight is, but if I am to have muscle tone and not look sick, I'd rather be about ten to fifteen pounds higher than that.

Fat DOES NOT weigh more than muscle.  When people exercise to lose weight and get used to seeing the number drop when they step on that scale, when the number goes up again, a part of them gets discouraged and they want to give up.

Without consciously thinking about it, I gave up on focusing on lowering the fat content in my cooking.  I also decided to stick with soy milk since I haven't had any stomach issues since switching away from milk. It's also a decent enough creamer substitute, should I run out of the non-dairy liquid creamer--I hate the powdered crap.

Small change like this, and I've already lost six pounds this year.  It's odd.  I stopped caring about it and I'm dropping. It may not seem like much considering how much I really need to lose, but it's a step in the right direction and that is truly what matters.  It's a positive and that's what I should focus on.  I know once I pick up the pace on the exercise front, it'll drop quicker. Anyway...

I know all these diet gurus tell you to use non-fat this and non-fat that, but why?  What are you really getting out of it? More preservatives? More chemical balancing? I have some older cookbooks from the forties and fifties and none of them call for fat free anything.

A majority of women from the twenties through the seventies weren't overweight.  They were curvy or voluptuous.  They were sexy.  Don't get me wrong some were overweight, you can't completely escape the fat cell, but curvy was sexy...not fat.

Example: Marilyn Monroe - Curvy,  "Stacked",  Beautiful

She didn't have her ribs showing or poking through her clothing.  She had meat on her legs and arms.  She had a gentle puff to her cheeks.  She often said that people called her "the lady with shape"--well duh!  Now, by media standards...she's considered overweight.

The media, however, loves thin women.  By "thin" I'm talking bone thin.

Example: Keira Knightley--thin, but considered sexy.

Don't get me wrong, I adore Keira Knightley, and this picture is of her at her thinnest.  Her body type has her consistently thin, but at times like this picture--in my humble opinion--I think she's just too thin.  If your ribs are showing, that's not a good thing.  You look malnourished, sick.  Sick is not sexy--no matter how much make-up you put on.

I'm not advocating that being overweight is a good thing, it really isn't.  It makes our heart work harder, we have a hard time breathing, and it can cause skeletal issues.  What I am a believer in, however, is being a healthier me.  

Me...me...me...me...me!  What will make me happy?  Finding a way, of my choosing, to be a healthier me. 

Scratch

"Non-cooks think it's silly to invest two hours' work in two minutes' enjoyment; but if cooking is evanescent, so is the ballet."  ~Julia Child

I talked before about how I am a "from scratch" girl when it comes to cooking.  I completely and totally enjoy the feeling of satisfaction I get from making something so well that people can't stop talking about it--no matter the effort.

It's why I do Thanksgiving at my house every single year.  People are always wanting to help and I just can't do it.  I have to do it. I finally have a system of doing things so that the day of the feast, I actually have time to relax and mingle while things cook.

I say all this to get to this point...

I bought a cookbook put out by Taste of Home and Reader's Digest.  I expected to find from scratch recipes, and a lot of it is.  However, upon further inspection there are recipes in there calling for refrigerated doughs of various breads and certain pre-mixed spices.  WHAT?!

Thinking about it, yes, I get that not everyone likes to do things from scratch. But why not put the recipe for the dough and spice mixes somewhere else in the book?  Would that really be all that difficult?

I'll keep the book because there are quite a few recipes in there that I know the husband will appreciate and they speak to me.  I can't help but feel disappointed in these companies' choice to omit the full from scratch recipes.

I know some of you out there are staring at the screen and have that blank look, and others of you are probably rolling your eyes because you can't fathom why on earth I wouldn't want to make things easier on myself.

Let's look at it from a couple of different angles...

Ladies... 

A majority of girls begin planning their weddings from the time they are able to understand what a wedding is. Once you're engaged, you go into overdrive with all the detailing. There's the photographer, videographer, disc jockey or band, officiant, ceremony site, reception site, seating...well you get the idea.

My point is that you do all this planning and the ceremony lasts fifteen to thirty minutes.  The reception lasts three to six hours on average.  You've had months if not years of planning for a few hours of celebration.  Why not just run to a chapel or Justice of the Peace and then hang out with friends?

Gentlemen...

Your favorite athletes practice plays numerous days a week during their sport's regular season.  They watch footage from other games to study their opponents.  They train for hours upon hours in the off-season. They get paid the big bucks because they are such good athletes.  

If they're so good, then why do they need the practice, training, and studying?  Can't they just go out and do their job without having to deal with all the mess and risk injury during practice?

Kids, Teens, Adolescents...

Going to school and doing homework...such a pain, right?  You do tons of homework, study, do presentations, and take tests.  You go through three to five stages of education.  What are you doing all that for?  Because good grades can get you scholarships or grants.  Most importantly, the jobs that pay well, hire people with degrees and social skills.  

The effort I put out is nothing compared to the reward I receive.  Pride and personal satisfaction.

Work Ethic

People assume that just because you don't work (outside of the home) anymore, you don't know what you are talking about when it comes to real work.  Really? So all that work I did from the time I was fifteen to twenty years later, means absolutely nothing?

I worked my ass tush off for corporations and small businesses for twenty years!  If I was clocked in, I was working.  If I was sick, I went to work. If I was having a bad day, I went to work. Life-changing event, I went to work.

I also never had it in me to not work while clocked in.  In company handbooks it was considered stealing from the business.  I believed that!  Still do. If you are clocked in, are able to be productive (no power outage), then you work to the best of your ability. No sloughing off.  I did this, day in and day out.

Even when I became a manager, I was still working my tail off to make sure that everything ran smoothly and that my people had jobs.  I expected them to work just as hard.  I don't think that's an unreasonable expectation.  If you want a job, you are to work to the best of your ability or someone--who is willing to do the work--gets put in your place, and then you are swiftly shown to the door and shoved out.

I don't understand this mentality of "they owe me"...especially in this economy!  So many people are struggling and taking whatever job they can get.  If you really want the job, want to keep the job, work your fool arse off!

I know...it's not my life and I can't live it for anyone else. Ugh.  It just upsets me to see people take advantage and not understand the privilege of having a job that pays. Whether you get paid $7.75 an hour or $450.00 an hour, you should be working your arse off.

Take pride in your job, it reflects well on you.