This Could Have Been a Great Post

Pretend there are photos here. They're lovely photos. Yes, yes they are.

The Interwebs apparently hate my photos lately and I'm unsuccessful with uploading.

Let me tell you: These photos were awesome. Like me. Ha ha ha ha.

Or whatever.

Mother Nature Has a Sick Sense of Humor

When Kids Sing Along With the Radio

My kids sing along with songs on the radio and I know for the most part they have no idea what the songs are really about, and thank goodness for that. Most of the songs that are played on the top 40 radio station here in our city seem filled with messages that I don't really want to explain to my young kids.

I admit I cringe sometimes when I hear them singing along with some of the songs. Then I listen to what the kids are singing and I know they really have no idea what the song means. For instance, Rihanna's song Rude Boy

This song in particular makes me cringe when I hear my kids sing along with it, but I know they don't know what "get it up" means so to them it is just a song.

M gets to the chorus and sings "Take it, take it, baby baby, take it, take it, POPPY LOPPY." I'm pretty sure that's not right.

And K sings the chorus and proves he goes to a very ethnically diverse school: "Take it, take it, baby baby, take it, take it, ABDULLAHI." I'd guess there aren't many songs devoted to boys named Abdullahi. Maybe K Man could fill a niche there.

It's a Small, Small, World and Also? I Haz Issues

The popularity of Facebook has amazed me in many ways. When I first joined at the urging of my (several years younger) cousin, (when? At least 5 years ago? Not sure.) I was completely clueless about what was supposed to happen and exactly why I wanted to be there. I remember asking my cousin (on Facebook) when the fun would begin. (Am I supposed to "poke" someone? Am I supposed to "like" it?) I gave it some time and slowly figured it out, much the same way my love affair (love-hate affair?) with Twitter developed.

Through Facebook I reconnected with people I never thought I would. I have moments of defensiveness when I "unfriend" and perhaps "block" people or simply decide I will never "friend" so-and-so, but for the most part I am open to whomever wants to connect. I am often surprised by the results.

I have found people I have met in my life at different points also know one another. This happens often. Shockingly often.

I have met high school classmates as adults and connected as we never did in school. I've discovered wonderful people that I've "known" for years but never really knew...and I still don't know well but we're starting over. We share history even if it is parallel history. I'm learning I went to school with fantastic people (and probably some not-so-fantastic ones but I'm not in contact with them). I feel a little regret for my high school years. I was in my own world, perhaps I will write about that sometime.

*********

One of those friends recently told me she can tell I keep a lot of things secret and I carry my friends' and family's worries on my shoulders. And she was completely right. I share a lot here, but there is much I keep. My friends? I am a Taurus (stooooopid Zodiac reassignment...sorry but I am a Taurus and always will be a Taurus.) so that means I am stubborn. Being a Taurus also means I am an incredibly loyal friend. Being a loyal friend to me often means taking on the problems of those around me.

It is not healthy...the taking on of others' problems. I've always known that, but it has done little to change things. I worry...but rarely about the little things.

What is better? Worrying about things that probably won't happen that the consequences are minuscule or worrying about things you already know are in progress but you have little control over? Clearly no worries would be ideal.

So I am working on developing a bubble around my heart. It is easier said than done when friends are losing loved ones and hearing devastating diagnoses.

In the real world I speak little. (Though my brother finds this inconceivable and hilarious.) Several people have told me that when I speak my words are valuable. I've often thought they were blowing sunshine up my rear end.

I haz issues...but if you've read my blog for any amount of time (what? 2 times? I totally hide my issues!) you already knew that. When people say nice things about me I am skeptical. I harbor secrets even as I share too much. I punish my body for my good fortune.

What?

In the great scheme of things I am remarkably lucky. I have a fantastic relationship with most of my family. I have a great support network, both in real life and online. I've had three successful pregnancies and have three healthy children. I have a husband that loves me despite my foibles. We have a home that we recently added to and made fit our family even better than it did before.

I miss those family members we have lost.


I worry about those who are troubled. (Including myself.)


In the last few weeks I've begun to recognize all the ways I punish myself for my good fortune. I am fat so that others will see that I am not as lucky as I really am. In my mind, I can't be happy and healthy and beautiful so I sabotage myself. I can't be so lucky as to have a fantastic husband who loves me despite my issues. I can't be so lucky as to have had three healthy children who are compassionate, smart, gorgeous and loving.

My issues don't allow me to be happy.

But I am. I am happy but I still punish myself for being happy. So my issues include not allowing myself to be happy without punishing my body. Because if I really look at it, if I punish my body so much I am going to make my kids learn to deal with life without their mom. That's not punishing me, that's punishing them. I hate that.

I punish myself for my past. I've made poor decisions. I feel responsibility for things that happened to me.


I need to offer myself forgiveness. And that bubble around my heart.

Sometimes Other People's Junk Is Also Your Junk

Several years ago I discovered Freecycle. For someone like me, Freecycle is dangerous because most often I collect more things rather than give things away. You never know when you might need that such and such that you just gave away. The things that I did manage to give away? I don't miss them. Not one thing. In fact, I can't remember what I've given away. So obviously I didn't need those things.

The OFFERS posted on Freecycle were seductive. FREE THINGS! I could use that! I didn't know I needed that but I do now! I received some things I really could use. A metal swing set for my kids. Peony bulbs. Clothing.

Most of the people I received things from just left the items in a bag outside their door. I preferred this method of retrieval partly because it is sort of embarrassing to me to take other people's cast-offs and partly because of my own social anxieties. It is also the method I used when people wanted my cast-offs. Whether I was home or not, I left the items in a bag on my deck. No face-to-face contact. I liked it much better that way.

That said, the woman who allowed me to dig up some of her peonies was very gracious. And the woman who had lost so much weight her clothes no longer fit her was sweet.

The one encounter that I will probably always remember was brought about by my husband's and my desire to try to lose weight (back when I didn't even have as much to lose...sigh). I posted a WANTED ad for a treadmill. I figured there would be people who bought them and never used them and just wanted the space back in their houses.

I was completely unprepared to meet the man who offered his used treadmill. Craig and I went to pick it up together, along with Baby M. I can't remember if K was born yet by then or not. We got directions to the man's house and found it with no trouble.

His house was unique, which matched him perfectly. He was a lingering hippie, I was pretty sure of that. He'd built his house himself. It was shaped like a hexagon or something weird like that. I always wonder where you put your sofa in a place like that. Anywho, his garage was packed with things and this is where he was puttering around when we arrived to pick up the treadmill.

The treadmill. I use that term loosely because it was a NordicTrack but quite possibly the first model ever invented. It was made from wood and had no power to the tread. You literally had to push the belt with your feet. As soon as I saw it I knew we would never use the thing but it seemed rude to not take it after going all that way to get it. So we loaded it in our minivan.

The man. He chatted continuously while we were there, telling us about constructing his house, demonstrating how to fold the treadmill...farting. I can only think the man must have had a meal of broccoli before we arrived because he tooted his way through the conversation but never once flinched or acknowledged his gas.

Oh yeah, this was a (toot) top of the line model (toot) when I got it. (laugh) (toot toot toot)

You want help (toot) getting that in (toot) there? (tooooooot)

I am not a classy woman. It is terribly hard for me to maintain a straight face when someone so blatantly needs to stick a cork in it.

But I did it. I think.

But you can bet your butt I laughed the whole way home.

What if Armageddon is Real?

I've had writer's block for weeks. Then I see this show (which I have to confess I've watched before) about the Mayan calendar predicting Armageddon on December 21, 2012. The (mostly) sane part of me thinks that the likelihood that this is true is slim to none but there is another part of me that wonders...

And what if it IS true?

What if we all have just slightly more than one year left?

What will I do differently? What will you?

I'm going to think about this and live how I want to live in (perhaps) the last year.

Some Things Are Very Wrong

There have been several things that friends and family have been going through lately and it stinks. I like boring and mundane for myself and those I love and care about. Stress is never fun, though I know that stress often is what we need to make changes, to get us moving. If no one was stressed about seeing a loved one deal with cancer, there would be no motivation to raise money, to find a cure.

The support of friends and family is invaluable. I've been in situations as a teen and as a young adult that I tried to handle myself. I'm afraid I didn't handle things as well as I thought I did. There was a trend on Twitter last week where people were tweeting advice to their 16-year-old selves. I would tell myself to ask for help. To tell someone I trusted what was happening, what happened. Some things remain a secret to this day. I'm not strong enough to confront the past and my role in what happened. I have forgiven myself though. I think. Or maybe not and that is why I continue to punish myself.

I have issues. I'm guessing you do too. It makes me feel better when I hear others say "I've been there." "I support you." "You're worth my time." So thank you to those who read and comment and support me in any way, no matter how minuscule.

**********************
Aaaaand, to lighten the mood, my mom bought my kids Aqua Sand kits yesterday. Is it just me or is there something very wrong with the design of the sand dispensers?

How I Make You Feel Better About Your Issues Part Two

I have many, many issues. Last weekend I went on my eldest daughter's first overnight trip with her Girl Scout troop. I chaperoned because I wanted to be there for my daughter and have some fun one on one time with her and also because I am stooooopid.


I shared about the first issue that I faced on the trip yesterday. This was only about 20 minutes after arriving at the destination Ye Wonderful Water Park (YWWP).


Besides the whole problem of trying to socialize with women that I do not know well, (Dang, what is with the having to talk to people to get to know them? I don't know how to do that correctly.) I also had to share a sleeping room with 3 children (one my own) and another mother. The sleeping arangements were to be that 2 girls (mine and the girl who had no parent chaperone) were going to share a queen and the other girl would have a queen to herself. The two grown ups were supposed to share the king bed.


Awkward! Hi! I've met you like 4 times in my life and now I will share a (granted, large) bed with you! FUN!


I tried my damndest to get M to agree to sleeping with me but she would not budge from sleeping with her friend. So I sat in my chair and pretendend to surf the Internet (that would not work for me! Ack! Torture!) then read some of my book club book before I eventually had to give in and admit I was tired. I read some of another book I brought, reading by flashlight, in a king-size bed with a woman I've met 4 or 5 times. I felt my stomach rumble from hunger...then it turned to feeling like I might have to pass gas.


The room was so quiet. QUIET. WTF? I can't sleep in silence.


Rumble rumble rumble. By 2 a.m. I took a sleeping pill. It did nothing.


I tried to sleep on my side so I didn't snore. It was uncomfortable. I rolled to the other side. So comfy for bed mates for the tossing and turning. Her daughter had a bad dream...the girl who was sleeping in a queen bed by herself. She cuddled and I assumed she would sleep with her daughter. No. Didn't happen. I had fantasies of sleeping in an empty bed. I was still awake at 3 a.m.


Perhaps I slept by 4...until 7. Ahhh! Sweet slumber. heh heh heh. I wanted someone to stick a fork in my eye. Unfortunately, with the girls' "inventions" of new beverages even the cups available in the room were used. Even anti-anxiety and sleep-inducing meds were unlikely to work.


And they didn't.

How I Make You Feel Better About Your Issues Part One

I spent the weekend on an overnight trip for my oldest's Girl Scout troop. The girls sold so many cookies that they earned a special activity and they decided to spend it by going to a water park in a hotel in a town about an hour away from us. I volunteered to chaperone partly because it would be M's first trip away from home and partly because I'm a control freak and also because I'm a little crazy.

There are several things I didn't take into account when I volunteered for this trip. Honestly most of those things didn't occur to me until shortly before the time came to deal with each particular issue. What issues you ask? Well, my freakishly strange issues of course.

Let me take this opportunity to give those of you who don't like crude talk or humor or somehow picture me as a woman of class (how can you possibly at this point if you've read me at all?) the opportunity to bypass this entry. Really. You don't want to read if you are easily offended or of delicate sensibilities. You're better off not knowing my issues. Even if you could laugh and feel superior.

***pause for the squeamish to leave....don't forget to come back tomorrow! I promise I won't be as crass tomorrow!***


**are they gone?***


**good. Now we can talk about them... Just kidding. Sort of.**

So. We drive over to the city that holds Ye Wonderful Water Park (YWWP) and stop at a very popular fast food restaurant for lunch before heading on to the hotel that holds YWWP. I do not think about the fact that when I eat really greasy food that I am not accustomed to that it makes my stomach hate me. I order a #2. HA HA HA HA HA! I see the irony now. Popular fast food restaurant, you slay me.

All is fine while we drive to the hotel, check in, get changed and head to YWWP. Approximately 10 minutes into swimming I feel a churning in my stomach. This is never good. We have two issues going on here. One, I may have to do a #2 and it may be loud and yucky coming out because my stomach hates me at this point. Number TWO (ha ha ha ha ha!) and really the more important issue here is that I prefer to do my business at home. I go to great lengths to ensure this happens very rarely outside of my home...and even when it has to happen at home it is preferably when my husband is out of the house or sleeping. Yes. Hi! I'm Heather and I'm a Home Pooper. I'll have you know that all of my kids as babies were also Home Poopers. I kid you not, they all held their poops all day until we were home. The minute we were home. Poop. (For the most part. M and K each had their infamous OUT Poops that blew all up their backs and made me consider scrapping the clothes they wore because it was just that bad.)

So I'm in the YWWP and feel that feeling. I head for the bathroom in YWWP. There are two stalls, both being used and 4 girls waiting with their bags to change out of their swim suits. There is nothing to do but head cross-hotel and hope for the best in the empty hotel room. I'll be honest. This is a more ideal situation, provided you can make it the distance. I have strong muscles (?) and can do it. I had the privacy of the hotel room and the time for it to air out before we returned.

Yes. I am very, very sophisticated.

And this is only one of my issues. Tomorrow, the next of my issues while chaperoning Girl Scouts in an overnight trip.

The Day That Could Have Been Much Worse and Why I'm Thankful

Yesterday was the kind of day that would have been defined in terms of complete suckage in the past and sent me completely over the edge of reason. However, I have made changes lately and the events of yesterday took on a different tone mostly because of how I have relearned to react to things (most of the time).

It was an ordinary enough morning but as I was in the shower I remembered that my son had brought home a homework assignment to do this weekend. It wasn't a big thing, just read a very short book and answer a couple of questions. But since I forgot about it until early Monday morning it was pretty much like pulling teeth from a boy who probably stayed up too late the previous night playing Legos surreptitiously in his room long after he was told to go to sleep.

But we got through it. In time to pile into the car...Ms. D with her new ball that her cousin sweetly decided she should have because she enjoyed it at his house so much (she has brought it with her ever since)...M and K with their backpacks and rowdy attitudes. I had little hope for civilized schooling. Small prayers sent to their teachers.

D and I went on to her "school" a parent and child activity mostly unique to Minnesota. (ECFE if you're interested.) The kids in her class had started tentatively separating from their parents and now, with almost 8 months of class and practice at separating from parents for about an hour or so, most of the kids are separating without fuss. D had some issues for the first half of the school year but since January she has been completely comfortable when I've left the room.

When I returned to the room today to pick her up one of the teachers rushed to us. It was unusual and for a split second I thought she was going to tell me about a potty training success or something similar. That was where my mind was I guess.

It was not the case.

No, instead I was told that my little bitty pretty baby girl almost hung herself from a toddler slide by way of some plastic Mardi-Gras style necklaces. There was a red mark on her neck remaining from the incident when I arrived in the room after parent time ended. I was calm. She was fine. Later, as I was thinking about what might have happened I grew angry. I wondered why I was not summoned to the room immediately following the incident. I worried about whether they had removed all of the necklaces from now on. I was assured that D was never really choking and that the incident happened and was over in a matter of seconds (resulting in the necklaces being cut from around her neck.)

I could be irate. I'm not. I'm happy my child is safe. I hope all necklaces are gone. I will check today. FYI--necklaces in a toddler room are not well-advised.

Later in the day D slept for almost 2 hours. She didn't really nap the previous day so she was extra tired anyway and I suspect that nearly hanging oneself may be a little tiring. (Thank the Lord she is fine I would be even more nuts than I already am if she were not fine.) I joke but it is not funny. Had I lost my littlest one (any of my kids) I would fear for my own sanity.

I nudged D awake slightly before we needed to go pick up her siblings. She was groggy, sweaty, bright-eyed and independent. Typical child of mine.

We went to pick up her siblings. We've gotten into the habit as the weather has gotten so atypically beautiful so quickly that we've walked outside of the BIGS' school while they've finished their lessons. D pulls and resists my handhold, but we manage to reach a compromise.

We pick up her siblings and drive home. It is uneventful. Normal. I think my unusual day has past the unusual bit but it hasn't.

The kids put their stuff away. K goes out to play, M does her homework then goes out to play. I check her work and discover it's lacking so I call her indoors again.

She reworks the problems and returns outdoors.

Minutes later I hear wailing, crying, "don't tell mom!" "I'm telling mom!"

Miss M enters, crying hysterically. It takes a few moments for me to realize her face and neck are covered in paint. Not good. The Boy is sent to his room. He's clearly remorseful yet not that sure he's done something wrong. How do you know that you've done something wrong??? Especially when you're five?

I call their dad to ask how to remove spray paint from faces. He suggests olive oil and it works. My son is cowering in his room. My oldest is laughing because I've come up with ways to make her see the humor. The toddler nearly died this morning.

The day was emotional. A set of near misses. M may have lost sight because she had spray paint all over her face (thankfully missing eyes) and neck.

This day could have been much worse. I spent the day being calm. Every incident, I was calm, understanding, loving. I'm not sure that is good.

Sometimes I Wonder Why I Bother

We rarely eat out. Most evenings we make a home-cooked meal and I try to make them mostly nutritious. I probably fail more than I succeed I suppose, given that two-thirds of my children often refuse to eat whatever vegetable I prepare (assuming I prepare one...my bad). I can coax the children to accept frozen peas as a snack fairly often. (Yes, they must be straight from the freezer. Cook them and they will turn their noses up at them.)

Some nights I grind up cauliflower or broccoli and sneak it into the food.

About three times a year I break down and prepare Hamburger Helper for supper. I tell Craig we're having a "gourmet meal" and he knows that it is HH. I know that it is not at all healthy and for some just a step above eating pet food. Here's the truth. I have made my own homemade versions of HH at home and they have been fairly tasty. The homemade versions are, granted, less sodium-filled, but probably not any healthier.

Anywho. Last week was one of those three times a year that I pulled out the HH. I add more macaroni to it in hopes that one box will feed the 5 of us. (Yes, I know it says the box is five servings. Those servings are too small for all of us apparently.)

I don't know if my kids were extra hungry because we went on a long hike that afternoon or what but K Man, who generally eats 2 bites of supper ate 2 (small, kid-sized) bowls. M ate 3 bowls (which isn't all that unusual for her to want to eat a lot). And little Ms. D, who weighs 24 lbs soaking wet ate 3 1/2 bowls.

So. Moral of the story apparently is that if I make little effort to prepare a tasty meal my children will turn into gluttons. I'm not sure what that says about my culinary skills, but I'm pretty sure it's not flattering.

Distorted

It happened again. My mind knows that I've gained back a lot of weight but my inner me still thinks I am slim and trim. It's very weird.

I needed an outfit for a charity gala event. (Yes, the Festival of Trees.) I'd bought a shiny red blouse last year when I'd lost a bunch of weight, confident that I'd lose even more by this year. Not the case. I gained many pounds back. Many pounds.

It's sad really.

But there I was at the store, my mom and an aunt coaching, trying to find something to fit this body that I didn't want to be in again. There may have been some body slimming devices. And perhaps bras that promised to lift the girls to heights they have not seen for years.

The mirrors in the stores are not complimentary. I see myself. It is not good.

Day to day I can lie to myself and forget that I'm not the thin teenager or the slim twentysomething anymore...until I see a photo of myself...or catch a glimpse of my full body in the glass storefronts as I am shopping. I feel like a thin person, but I am not.

I hope that I can find the thin person inside me and bring her back on the outside as well.

This Came in the Mail Yesterday

I think we may have missed the sale. What do you think?

Do not parent my children for me

There are few things that raise my dander as much as people parenting my children for me. I am not a slacker parent. I do not (for the most part) use force to make my children mind. I will admit I have spanked my kids once or twice (honestly, not often) but the situation seemed extraordinarily important at the time.


It always astounds me when people think it is okay to discipline my child when I am already CLEARLY working on this. I do not think it is fine for my kids to run around in a store. Have they done it? Yes. Have I dragged kids out of the store kicking and screaming? Yep.


Do I think it's appropriate for some stranger to step in and discipline my kids? Hell to the no.


If you touch my children inappropriately I will be pissed. Do it in secret? I'll find out. In front of me? Protect your balls.


There are few things that irk me more that someone stepping in to the parent role when I am clearly doing so already. Obviously I am sensitive about my role as a parent but I can assure you I know my children better than the stockboy/man at Wal-Mart.


Have you ever witnessed clear parental neglect in public? I have. It's not pretty. Did I do anything? No. And I can't say I'm proud of that, but what is appropriate? In most cases the parent who is yelling at the kids is just frustrated. We cannot know what happens at home. Perhaps that is the problem.


In most cases though, I think parents need someone to say "hey, it's okay. I've had kids act crazy in the store. People look at you and you feel like a complete jerk but you're really an awesome mom."


I have felt tempted to offer suggestions to parents of younger kids who are acting up. I don't offer mainly because I would have been defensive if someone had approached me in the same situation.

I obviously want my kids to behave themselves in a store. If they are not, we leave. I have carried both big kids out of Target, kicking and screaming, while I was 8 months pregnant. I do not need any stranger correcting my kids for me.

Have you had a stranger try to discipline your child?

Toilet Signs Revisited

So the cabin we stayed in up north once again had this lovely little sign warning us about not putting diapers and feminine products in the toilet because of the septic tank.

We actually have a septic tank at our house too, so none of this is shocking information to me. What I do wonder, however, is why the picture shows things like a CD and a floppy disk and a mouse going in the toilet. Is there really a problem with people flushing these things?

The Frogs Reprise

There is someone in my life who has said she could listen to this all night. Unfortunately, I often have to and it's not so great.

This time there was some bird making a whistling come hither noise too. What's up with that? What kind of bird does that?

Of course if this is what I have to endure to have a little summer? I'll take it. Some nights I just wish they had a volume control.

I Never Thought I'd Owe the Cat an Apology

Oh the joys of taking the cat to the vet. If you have never done so, you are indeed a fortunate person.

On this trip, it took me approximately 15 minutes to even find the cat, which has to be the all-time slowest cat-finding expedition, especially considering the size of our house. I looked in all the usual spots--or so I thought--no Chat. So I get the treat jar and shake it at random points throughout the house.

Bottom of living room stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat!?!

Top of kitchen stairs. **shake shake shake** Chat! Treat??! Even I am not convinced I'd get up from a nap for a treat at this point.

**shake shake** **rattle rattle** Chat?

I realize we made the mistake of getting the cat carrier out of storage just the night before instead of a few days in advance. We have to set the cage out days before so that the cat can start to think that maybe, just maybe, we will forget to take her to the vet.

Finally, as I watch the time ticking closer to when she's supposed to be having a thermometer shoved up her butt,* I desperately open another can of cat food even though she woke me up at 5 a.m. for her breakfast. Within seconds she appears in the doorway of the basement. Of course she was in there, it was the one room I didn't look in because I couldn't imagine any comfortable place in there she could possibly have been lounging. Whatever Cat. She tries to escape as I approach her, but even in my old age I am faster than her. I shove her butt into the cage with surprising ease, grab the baby and away we go.

**Meow meow meow meow**

Chat feels the need to express her misery.

*Meow meow*
**
*meow*

Wow, a small pause in the whining! I enjoyed those blissful 3 seconds.

Dear cat, You are just riding in the car. You're in a cage. No one is hurting you. I can assure you that this whole trip will be more uncomfortable for me than for you. Enough with the whining. Cordially, Me

Did I mention that it is raining? No? Of course it is raining and not the lovely sprinkling that feels so nice on a hot day, not the intermittent drizzle, no, it's a steady downpour.

**shakes fist** Who scheduled this appointment for today anyway? Why is everyone looking at me?

So I'm driving along listening to Chat complain about the horrors of riding in the car in a cozy little cat carrier and I start to compose a blog post (quite possibly this blog post) in my head because that's what I do. When life hands me lemons, I write a blog post about it in my head because I'm nothing if not considerate enough to share my pain with others.

Then I start to realize that the Baby is kind of quiet so, oh joy, she has probably fallen asleep and I will have to rouse my sleeping baby to carry her and my whiny cat through the rain into the vet's office. Who scheduled this appointment for nap time? Who? Me? Why? Oh yeah, because I'm STOO-PID.

But as luck would have it, D woke up just as I pulled into the parking lot and the rain let up to a slower downpour so we only got soaked enough to be mildly uncomfortable during the entire visit to the vet. I should note that the whiny cat was completely dry.

I've grown weary of explaining that my cat's name is Chat, pronounced Shaw, which means cat in French, so I just say yes when they ask if I've brought Chat-like the conversation-with me. What kind of weirdo do they think I am for naming my cat after a conversation?

*turns out they take the cat's temp with an ear thermometer now.

Once we get in the exam room, the real fun begins with the laundry list of things wrong with the cat, which, interestingly enough does NOT include the arthritis the vet last year told us that she was developing. It does, however, include impacted anal glands. Say that 5 times fast without cringing. Then the vet said "I'll evacuate those for you before you leave" and I'll admit "thank you" didn't seem quite like the most appropriate response to that statement, but there you have it.

Apparently I was wrong about this visit being harder on me this time.

On the way home with my baby in the back seat and my cat with the newly-cleared anus on the seat beside me I pondered the estimate for $700 of workups and procedures for my 13-year-old cat. Cat's don't live that much longer than 13 do they? I mean I love my cat but I don't have $700 to spend on a cat that is going to die in a year anyway. Plus we have human medical bills to pay at this point. I know, I'm a terrible pet owner, but there you have it. So I don't know what to do about the cat now.

But hey, at least the butt probe was free!

Where Did These Kids Come From Then?

People say insensitive things all the time. I'm not sure if we have just lost all decorum or if most people are idiots or what, but wow people can say some stupid, stupid things.

I remember when I was a new mom, one of my good friends (who had not yet had any children) asked me what I could possibly be doing all day. She thought that I had tons of free time and was living it up. That friend has since had one child and said that one child is all she can handle. I'm certain she thinks I am insane to have three children.

I was reading Beck's post the other day and she mentioned that a friend of hers said that having a c-section wasn't really giving birth. I commented that apparently I have never given birth then.

Then I started thinking about it and got sad, mad, whatever. It's true. I've never been through labor. Oh the nurses have told me that I was contracting but I couldn't really feel it. It just felt mildly tight in my abdomen. Not at all hurty, which I guess is a good thing.

I do have a high tolerance for pain, I think. If I wasn't being monitored, I would have said I was never contracting with any of my pregnancies. The monitors say otherwise, but whatever. I had a kidney stone last year that was pretty painful...painful enough that I allowed my husband to take me to the ER to find out what was wrong with me, but still, not that painful. I really could take more pain than that. I rated my pain at a 4 or 5 out of 10. When the stone actually came out? Wasn't more than a blip on the pain scale.

Then I broke my finger a few months back. I wasn't going to go to the doctor, but it was starting to look a little weird so I thought I'd better get it checked out. After a week of having it in a splint I had my regular physician check it. She watched my face as she moved my finger back and forth. My kids were with me. My doctor looked at my kids and said "your Mom is tough!"

So I am still disappointed that I never had the opportunity to deliver my babies naturally as I had planned with baby #1. She needed an emergent delivery and that was that. I purposely scheduled K's section for the day before my due date in hopes that I might experience more of labor before I had the section. There was no action that I could tell. With D, I was contracting as I went into the hospital (so the monitors said) but the section was performed before too much was happening.

So maybe I am less of a mom because I've only had babies via c-section. Though I've heard moms who have given birth naturally say that a kidney stone is worse. Seriously? Pshaw. Though my stone as it was traveling did hurt worse than my section incision.

And then I had a plugged milk duct that resulted in a milk blister. Now that is hurty! I really think boobie/nursing owies hurt more than anything. Especially when you have to willingly put baby to breast in order to help make you feel better even though it hurts like H-E-L-L.

Also? This pretty much tops my list of things I never thought I'd have to do...take a needle to a nipple and pop a white milk-filled blister. Motherhood is so glamorous.

Questionable Advertising

While driving to pick up Miss M at Girl Scouts the other night, an ad came on the radio that, at first, I thought was a joke. Sometimes radio stations do spoofs (don't they?) and I thought this was one.

It turns out it's just a really terrible ad campaign.

It was for Kool-Aid and the gist of the ad was that we Moms should buy Kool-Aid for our kids because it's cheaper than pop. So, is it just me or does this seem like a strange way to promote your product?

I actually don't buy pop or Kool-Aid for my kids very often. They drink water, milk and a little juice most days. They do get pop or Gatorade as treats sometimes, and Kool-Aid usually for parties or something like that if I need a lot of drinks for a bunch of kids. I only bought Kool-Aid occasionally not because it is made with a lot of sugar (which it is) but because it just didn't register on my radar very often. The sugar aspect was relatively low on the radar screen for me too, until I heard this commercial.

So they're pointing out that Kool-Aid is just as bad for you as pop I guess, right? That's what it sounded like to me. It was a comparison that I hadn't considered before.

I think this ad campaign has made me less likely to buy Kool-Aid. Way to go marketers!

Perhaps I Am Over Thinking a Tad

While I was the kids were watching Clifford the other day it occurred to me that I think about the things happening in children's shows way too much. Honestly, who watches Clifford and immediately thinks that couldn't happen-the ice cream machine would run out of mix before it got that out of hand! Don't look at me like that. You know you've seen that episode and you've thought something similar. Haven't you?