Head, shoulders, knees & toes...

So I should be sleeping. Seriously I keep telling myself I need to go to bed before 11 - but clearly not happening. But I've had this thought going on in my head and must blog about it!!

Last Sunday I got a massage. I really needed this massage. I was stressed - mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually (you get the point). When the masseuse asked if there was any special area she should focus on, I replied, as usual, my shoulders and lower back. I carry tension in my shoulders - don't we all, and lately I've been on the computer a lot. So my best friend for 50 minutes starts on my back... and I feel my body relax. My shoulders are screaming "it's about time", my lower and mid-back whine "it's about time". And I enjoy that...

But then she gets to my feet and my hands and my forearms. These poor body parts practically cried with delight at being treated nicely. They work hard all day long with no thanks. And while sometimes I think - need to stop typing my wrists are bothering me - or I should sit down a bit my feet hurt, never do I think - let's go get these poor body parts a massage. And they arguably do more work then the prima donna shoulders and back. Yes, the back and shoulders are always whining, begging to be touched, massaged, heated. But the poor hands that are continually doing something (granted sometimes just pushing buttons on the remote or uncorking another bottle of wine - but still working) just take it. They are the true heros of my body. They are the ones that don't complain no matter what I ask of them... and I could feel more tension leave my body and my head when my hands and arms were being massaged than that mass of back and shoulder tension. It's like a little self-contained diva-esque country - kind of like france. If i could remember the word for back in French I would rename my back - but alas my French is sorely lacking these days. But yet my hands, feet, forearms just go on and on all day - carrying me, accomplishing things... and what thanks do they get - very little - maybe the occasional pedicure or manicure - but that's not the same.

Here's to my hands, feet and arms - and even my temples. I am resolving to be nicer to them. Because they're always there for me. They're like the good sister - while my back is a lot like my other sister (yes, I refer to her as the bad sister). Oh - but that's another topic for another blog. (Note to self - do not give blog address to family members.)

So on that note - I'm going to go rest my poor, sweet hands. I suppose the whiney back and shoulders will insist on resting too.. Fine. We'll all go lie down and call it a night.

Good night.

Spoiled children

At the end of the day maybe we're all just spoiled children. I certainly think I am. I try to be better than that - but really when I don't get what I want out of life my mood changes. My view of the world changes - it's a hard, difficult world; There's a vengeful, difficult God. I read books about how to deal with loss, disappointment.
Yet, when I do get what I want - God is great. This is a beautiful, happy place full of joy and hope and goodness. Life is inspiring.

Maybe the key to a happy life, no a content life, is to learn to see the world and all its goodness even when we don't personally get what we want. But that takes a lot of work. I lot of effort - because at the end of the day it's easier to cry and break down and drown our sorrows with good red wine then it is to be thankful we have the good red wine and can appreciate that it is good red wine.

Insomnia

Not a shocking title given that it's 3:47am and I am not in college and don't have an infant. Quite honestly I was rarely awake at 3:47 even in college. I like my sleep. And definitely did not have insomnia nor time to blog when Little Miss Feed Me Now was an infant.

Insomnia sucks. Now I know people that suffer from insomnia and when they can't sleep they just get up and do something productive like bake muffins, finish presentations, write the great American novel, solve world peace. But I'm just not one of them. Normally, I just toss and turn for hours - which the husband who can sleep through anything does not appreciate. I can usually convince myself that just lying in bed is good rest and that will relax me enought to fall asleep. Occasionally (like tonight) I'll get up and have a little snack - but I'm not sure smores poptarts is on the list of good falling back to sleep foods - but I did have some milk too. Granted, I think it was supposed to be warm milk, but whatever.

Even more rarely I'll wake up and write in my journal... but really that's a lot of effort and usually involves some soul searching into what is going through my mind keeping me awake. I usually have to have multiple nights of insomnia for that to happen.

I did once get up and search the internet - I took the USA Today quiz to figure out which presidential candidate I should back -- none of the 3 that matched my beliefs are still in the running. Neither Obama nor McCain ever came up now matter how I changed the importance factors. But I digress... though disappointed in our options that is not what is keeping me awake, though perhaps it should. I'm just a little more self-involved in my own little universe to worry that much about a little thing like who's the leader of the free world.

Reading is supposed to be a solution too -- but I find I get caught up in what I'm reading and stay awake forever trying to read one more chapter.

So I think this blogging during the wee hours is a good combination of internet usage and journal writing. And it's kind of productive -- kind of. Hey I have fans out there begging to read my useless ramblings (don't I??).

So none of this seems to be working so far... here I am writing away and still feeling wide awake.

So tell me, any readers out there, what do you do when you have insomnia? Looking for suggestions. And while you're at it, I'm also looking for a good razor. If you have one you like - let me know that too. This Soleil thing is just not doing it for me and my legs.

Where are the men?

The last entry was not really the entry I meant to write. But somehow the words just came out and I was on a new topic. No really, what I wanted to write about is men. Yes men. Not male-bashing, not lusting - just in general.

After my awful morning (read previous blog). I decided to get a latte at Starbucks before facing motherhood for the rest of the day (plus I had been to Limited Too shopping for my niece - that's enough to give anyone a headache). I excitedly walked in, ordered a Tall Non-Fat Pumpkin Spice Latte (so excited fall is here - can't wait for the Gingerbread to come back!!)
As I waited I listened to the 2 male barrista's bantering about celebrity death matches (Gilgamesh vs Witchy Poo) and 2 male customers thanking them for the entertainment as they packed up their laptops to go. I wanted to stay. I wanted to abandon motherhood and spend my day discussing celebrity death matches with the barristas and customers. Though I realized it was inappropriate for me to spend all day with strange men - even if they were gay.
But this got me realizing something. Now that I'm a stay at home mom - I am living in a female only world. Other than my dear husband, the only males I have interaction with are the bag "boys" (they're all over 70) at Tom Thumb. How did this happen? I spend my days at playdates, Little Gym, Pre-School, PTA meetings all with other moms. There are no dads that participate in these events. I know that there are stay at home dads- but they don't interact in these groups. And I go out in the evenings - of course I do. Dear Husband often complains that I am a gold member of the "Need to Get Away from my Husband Club". So I go to Mom's Night out, Girls Night Out... all female.

So I realize this today and have spent all day trying to realize what this means. Should I care? What is missing in my life without the friendship and comraderie of men.
First - humor. Mom's are not funny. There is not a lot of laughing and banter going on in these Mom's groups. Why is that? Are we so caught up in Sesame Street and Dora that we forgot about witty banter. In fairness, this is not a female thing. Lots of witty banter goes on at Girls Night - which is not a group of moms but a group of women, some of whom happen to be Moms. But that's just once a month. Or is that all the things worth bantering about happen in the work place?

Second - sports. Women do not discuss sports. Not all women, my friend @franklin5 (Twittername) does Twitter about football, but Thursday at the PTA meeting no one was singing "Are you ready for some football?" as I was doing (okay just in my head). Maybe everyone was doing it but was afraid to sing out loud.

Third - jargon. I don't miss it, but I've realized that all corporate jargon is created by men. It's not surprising that most of the Dilbert characters are men. Maybe this is why there's not so much sarcasm among a group of mom's. It's okay to mock the boss or the finance department, but kind of rude to mock another mother's parenting. Unless - hey maybe they're all mocking my mothering and that's why I don't hear the jokes (see previous post - not mom of year).

I'm sure there are other things missing. After all how is it that a whole segment of society goes about their lives not interacting with 50% of the population (other than their husbands - and I bet some don't even interact with that poor guy)? It's all very odd - but other than going back to Starbucks every Mon, Wed, Fri morning - it'll probably stay that way for awhile....

I'm Not Winning Mother of the Year this Year

Today was not a good day. I woke up before the alarm - 6:34 to be exact. Why? I don't know. A little after 7 I got up, showered, dressed, ate breakfast... all the typical things one does in the morning. Except, wait, these are not typical for me. At least not for the last 3 months. The last 3 months. I have been a stay at home Mom. Which I decided meant a person who stays in their pajamas until 10 or if I absoutley had to get dressed would put on work out clothes. Sometimes, I actually would work out, but other times I just gave the impression I had worked out, so no one questions why you have not showered and look like crap. Hey, it works for me.

But back to today. Little Miss Not a Morning Person has taken to sleeping until 8:15. Now normally I think that I have the ideal child. Who would complain about a child that sleeps until 8:15? The mother who has to get said child to pre-school by 9. That's who. And it's not like she did this all summer long. Nooooo... Most of the summer, Little Miss "Get Up Mama" was waking up at 7, for a short period before 7. We have rules in our household. We do not get up before 7 and if we do, we do not wake other members of the household. I'm pretty sure it's in our corporate bylaws. At least Mr. Not a Morning Person and I agree with this rule.

So great, the child sleeps in... and when she does wake up, she's sooooo slow... In fairness, I may have trained her to be this way. This has been our summer:
6am Wake and jog 20 miles (oh wait - that's not what we do - and part of a joke from a previous entry)
For real
Wake between 7-8
Play, eat breakfast, watch My Friends Tigger & Pooh while Mommy showers (if it's necessary to go somewhere in public), play, eventually around 10 or so make our way to Little Gym or a playdate or the park. Home, play, lunch, nap, wake, play, wait for Daddy to come home, play....
You get the point. Not a lot of demands on our time or places we had to be.
So, Little Miss I'll Do What I Damned Well Please has no sense of urgency. Unless I mention the word ice cream or cupcake. But how many times can I lie to the kid to get her in the car? She didn't want anything for breakfast - I can't very well send her to school with an empty stomach. That is not in the Good Mommy Handbook. Somehow I remembered there were leftover pancakes in the refrigerator and the Good Daddy got her to eat them.
Then, Miss I Love My PJs didn't want to get dressed, and the only thing she wanted to wear was the Pooh and Piglet t-shirt lying in the laundry basket stained with ketchup. Now, I'm not going to win Mom of the Year, but I am not sending my kid to school in a ketchup stained t-shirt. Finally, I convinced her to wear a different Pooh outfit by bribing her with TV. Unfortunately, the show was still on when it was time to leave for school. I turned it off.
My child became possessed. Did you ever see the movie Gremlins? The cute fuzzy animal becomes the possessed teeth baring creature of destruction when you add water or feed after midnight? Well add turn off the TV and you can picture my morning. And it didn't stop once I got her in the car (under physical force dragged her into the garage and then pinned her down in her carseat - I did mention I'm not winning Mom of the Year right?) Crying, crying, crying. So much crying I wondered if boarding school was an option for 2 year olds.
Yet in the middle of crying and screaming while driving down Marsh, the cute fuzzy creature returns and yells "Go Cowboys" as we pass a car with a Cowboys flag. (Guess what we did Sunday afternoon?) But then the Gremlin returned when we stopped at a light and I turned around to talk to her. "TURN 'ROUND MOMMY!!" She hates me.

I finally reach the car pool line, exhausted, with a headache, wondering if it's wrong to go drink a Bloody Mary. The teacher reaches to get her out of the car. Fuzzy creature returns - "Mama, Mama, Stay with Mama".

I've decided to keep a bottle of tequila under the car seat.

You know you're hormonal when...

You cry listening to Def Leppard's Love Bites.
You cry watching My Friends Tigger & Pooh.
You cry because your favorite dog died -- 20 years ago.
You start thinking about where your yearbooks are.. and probably would read them if they weren't in the attic, or the garage, or (where are those things??!)
You take a fork to the chocolate pie in the refrigerator. Without ever removing it from the frig, you eat very large section of the pie. (I couldn't have eaten all that in a minute!)
You search for Delilah on the radio.
You're mad at the wind for blowing the lid of the trash can. (Really mad, like you actually yell at the wind.)
You snap at your husband for looking at junk mail before you do (even though it's been sitting on the coffee table for a week and it's JUNK mail... come on.)
You drink the port that's been in the refrigerator since last Christmas
You wish you could drop off the child for a week at your in-laws, or your neighbor ,or heck anyone that would take her for a week.
You have an overwhelming urge at 10 o'clock at night to rush into your child's room, climb into her crib and hold her while praying that nothing bad ever happens to the sweetest, most wonderful thing in your life.

Flawed reasoning

I've hurt my back. Technically I've hurt my shoulder - it's the muscle under the shoulder blade which keeps the neck from operating properly that is injured. You've seen people like me - must turn the entire body in order to look a new direction. I would like to tell you that I hurt my back doing something adventurous - riding bareback on the beach, climbing a mountain, uneven parallel bars preparing for London 2012 or even that I hurt my back being a great mother - giving the daughter piggy back rides, carrying her up 3 flights of steps... anything interesting. But no - I strained it slightly doing sit ups on a Monday and several nights later I reached back to grab the blanket and pull it over me about 2 am and SNAP. Yes, that 40 year old muscle couldn't handle the wear and tear of lifting a blanket. I was in tears. I don't think child birth was that painful. (Yeah I know I had a c-section I felt nothing.. but it's what people say.) And my dear husband's reaction - something along the lines of "why are you waking me" - once the tears started I did get some sympathy -like a half-hearted "anything I can do?"while attempting to move pillows, which of course just caused more pain and had I been in less pain I might have inflicted some on him. But of course any movement was painful.

But moving on... things have improved. I've iced, I've rested, I've ibuprofened, I've thought long and hard about elevating - but I'm pretty sure that's impossible. How would I get my shoulder blade above my head unless I did a handstand... and that's just not sounding like a good idea right now. But it's still sore and I'm fearful that it could happen again. So I have made the decision not to exercise until it's healed.

For anyone who's known me for longer than 3 months, you know this is not a difficult decision for me. I like excuses not to exercise. Like it's Monday or I exercised last month. However, for the past 3 months I've been exercising about 6 days a week, religiously and liking it. I've lost 12lbs - I fit in clothes I haven't worn since BC (Before Child)... I have exercised with a cold, late at night, early in the morning (okay that's a lie - no one who knows me at all would believe that one) - but the point is I have made exercise a priority. So I am now taking a sabbatical for the sake of my 40 year shoulder.

So here's the sad logic that goes on in my poor addled brain. If I can't exercise why bother doing anything healthy.? While darling husband goes running, I'm sitting on the couch and eating Gooey Butter Cake (I swear that's the name of this stuff). If I can't exercise, why do anything healthy? I think I'll top this with ice cream and open another bottle of wine too. Heck... I'm an all or nothing kind of girl. Thank goodness I kept the larger clothes in the back of the closet.....

My Diary

I read these "day in the life" articles all the time - you know the ones
5:45 am Wake up and turn on the coffee pot
6:00 am Run 20 miles
7:00 am Make eggs benedict for husband, 5 kids and neighbors down the street....
Need I go one. So I think, maybe for once they ought to have a real person review her day. Here's how mine would go.

7:11 am Our 2 year old starts yelling Ma Ma. Ma Ma. Maaaaaaa Maaaaaa.
7:12 Play dead and hope her dear father will get her.
7:13 The little bossy one is trying another tactic. Da Da. Da Da. Daaaaaaaad!!
7:17 I win.... Daaaaaaaad must be flattered she's calling his name. He gets up. I get to lie in bed while he gets her up.
7:40 "Is Mommy ever getting up?" This is a rhetorical question right? Of course I'm getting up. I'm just going to lie here until someone makes me.. Which is apparently right now.
7:45 Drink coffee and try to sneak a peek at the newspaper before I get scolded for reading it - by the 2 year old of course. I'm supposed to be playing Potato Head.
9:00 am Chase a half naked Alexa around the house. Trying to get her diaper and some clothes on her. Finally have to pin her down. There are tears. And then little obstinate one cries. This morning is NOT turning out good. She tells me to go away. It's tempting.
9:30 We're at the YMCA. One hour to relax. Only the mother of a 2 year old would consider Bosuflex Cardio relaxing.
10:30 Head home to shower and let little energizer bunny watch Mickey Mouse. That's good parenting right? At the very least it's war zone parenting.
11:00 Hmmm what to do now?? Markers, crayons, finger paints. Oh wait it's been announced by the little dictator that it's time for the jungle song. We get to walk around the house looking for jungle animals and making noises. Thank goodness I got that MBA.
Noon - Lunch time. We get to sit. I cook hot dogs and Lean Cuisine. Thank goodness I took those cooking classes.
1pm - My favorite time -- NAP TIME!! And the 2 year old gets to nap too. After a brief rest, I clean up the kitchen from breakfast/lunch, respond to e-mails and phone messages and get the mail. Then I work on the "project du jour". Today it's cleaning out the filing cabinet. Man my life is glamorous.
3pm Is she awake already?? I've only gotten through the "important papers" file - which apparently I have a lot of - or it's just lazy filing.
4pm We take dolly for a walk and run into the 10 year old neighbor. The neighbor plays Hide and Seek with little sweet one. Oh why don't I have my magazine with me? I know I could read at least one article.
5pm The father is home. I must pretend that I have a plan for dinner. Hmmmm. Oh I saw a recipe on the back of the parmesean cheese can. I think we have all the ingredients and I'm pretty sure I can salvage enough mozzerella from the mold to make the meal.
6:30 pm Done. Dinner is served. Little opinionated one eats all her vegetables. I am a great mother.
8pm The child is bathed, diapered and in bed. I've only heard her scold "Baa Baa" one time to go to bed. She must be tired. That makes two of us.
8pm Run 20 miles (not really - but I wanted to throw it in anyway)
10 pm Announce to the husband I'm going to bed
11pm Announce that this time I'm really going to bed
11:30 pm Go to bed and read until I can't keep my eyes open....

I'm pretty sure this is exactly the kind of thing mom's want to read. It makes their lives sound good. That's what I'm here for. Adding little rays of sunshine wherever I go.....

Entering the blogsphere with a shoe full of pee

So I'm blogging. Why am I blogging? Because friends have convinced me that I'm funny.. that I ought to blog and share these funny thoughts. The problem I've realized is that it's not so much that I'm funny as that I'm sarcastic. And I like to point out the ridiculousness in life. The problem there is that it could be insulting to some.. okay many. But I'm going to take the risk. So if you see yourself in here - apologies in advance - especially to you my darling husband.

The irony I have been dealing with lately is motherhood. And how one good day makes me feel like the best, most put together mom in the world. And one bad day and I'm in Barnes and Noble buying all kinds of discipline and toddler books - knowing full well that I don't have time to read these. Yesterday, Alexa (the darling 2-year old) peed in the potty. Any parent knows what a great feeling that is - my daughter is just 2 years old (2 years, 1 month and 7 days to be exact) - and she peed in the potty. I am a great mom. I rock. I read 2 pages of potty training in the middle of Barnes and Noble, came home tried it out and my daughter did it. All because I am the best mother and she is the smartest child in the world.
2 hours later the child is running around naked, refusing to get on the potty, bouncing up and down clearly needing to go - screaming if either parent attempts to put her on the potty. Then she pees on the bathroom floor and proceeds to slip in it all the while screaming as if we are torturing her. I attempt to shove M&Ms in her mouth to stop the panic, while she continues to slip in her pee with her father holding onto her arms shouting at me to clean up the pee - which is all over my feet at this point, but I'm determined to make the child love the potty by shoving M&Ms in her mouth. Of course one falls in the kids potty - which at this point is empty (because all the pee is on the floor) - but still doesn't seem like an edible M&M - but of course toddler decides she MUST HAVE that one - and more hysterical crying ensues as I throw that one out and find a new one.
Needless to say, I burned my application for mom of the year. I'm not sure I should have mailed it in anyway - the wine stains probably wouldn't get me bonus points.