Joy Unexpected

The Finalist

Fri, 20 Nov 2009 20:27:17 -0800

One of my favorite episodes of The Office is the one where they play basketball in the warehouse. Do you know which episode I'm talking about? Yes? Okay. So, you know how Michael assumes Stanley is going to be really good? Because he's black? But then Stanley gets the ball and he totally sucks and Michael is all "are you KIDDING ME?"

Well.

Tonight E played in his very first drum competition. There were 4 different divisions. In the last division (teens) There was a girl there who looked like a rocker. Big, spiked hair, ripped jeans, concert t-shirt. One look at her and I was all "She is gonna TEAR THAT SHIT UP."

Then, she got on the drums.

I could not believe what happened.

She hit one drum at a time.

Dum. Dum. Dum.

Then again.

Dum. Dum. Dum.

Then again.

Dum. Dum. Dum.

I took out my phone and texted The Teenager who was standing right next to me. "I totally did a Michael Scott. I thought she was going to kick ass."

"So did I." he wrote back. And we both tried really hard not to laugh because, while there was nothing funny about what she was doing on the drums. (dum. dum. dum.) It was funny that we assumed she'd be all kinds of drum awesome because of how she looked.

Never judge a drummer by her hair! EVER!

Anyway.

What I REALLY wanted you to know is that my son made it to finals.

But so did the other 3 boys in his division, so that kind of sucked in that I couldn't be all "IN YOUR FACE, OTHER DRUMMERS." But, still. FINALS! We're all very excited and proud. It was his first every competition and he did awesome. (Says his Mom.)

Next weekend.

I predict he wins.

On Dealing With Little Bullies

Fri, 20 Nov 2009 07:01:28 -0800

Yesterday when I picked up my daughter from school, she was quieter than usual. I could tell something was bothering her.

"How was school?" I asked.

"I can't remember." She responded.

Not the answer I wanted to hear. In the pit of my stomach, I knew something was wrong. I didn't want to push the issue, so I thought I'd allow her to unwind from her day before I asked any more questions.

Later that afternoon, I was in my room finishing up some things for work. She started to scream at her brother and had a bit of a meltdown. I had no choice but to put her on time out for her behavior. After she had served her time (ha) I asked her to sit down next to me so we could discuss her behavior towards her brother. I couldn't help but think that her behavior was related to whatever it was that may have happened at school. Before I could get a word out of my mouth, She threw herself into my lap and started to cry.

I asked her what was wrong.

"B and I were being mean to me at school."

"What did they do?" I asked.

"They kept pushing me in the chest and making me sit in the wood chips."

I could feel the anger sweep over my entire body. I asked some more questions, she gave me more details. She said she ran away but they followed her.

"Did you tell the teacher? The proctor?"

"No. I was too embarrassed and scared." She replied.

I had to take a few deep breaths.

"Tomorrow, you need to tell the proctor and you need to tell your teacher. And if they put their hands on you again, you need to tell them TO GET THEIR HANDS OFF OF YOU."

She started to cry again.

"But I don't want to go to school tomorrow. I'm afraid they'll hurt me again, Mommy."

Heart, broken.

I've always tried to let my children figure things out first. I don't want to jump into help solve their problems, I want them to learn to handle things on their own. I want them to be able to fight their own battles, so to speak. However, there are times where I have to step in. There are situations that require for me to step in and do something. I feel like this is one of those times. I feel like this is a situation that can and most likely will escalate if I don't intervene now. Maybe it was a one time thing, but then, maybe not. Either way, I feel like I need to speak up RIGHT NOW so that things are handled right away.

Today, I will walk my daughter to class. I will tell her to go play while I talk to the proctor, keeping my eye on her all the while. I will tell the proctor what happened. Then, I will make my way to the classroom to tell the teacher what happened. Then, I was stand back and watch my daughter play from a distance to make sure no one puts their hands on her. And if they do? That's where I'm going to need the Lord God Almighty to sweep me up with his strong, loving arms and hold me back. Because, you know, RAGE.

If you've had a child who has suffered at the hand of Little Bullies, I would love to hear how you handled the situation. Any advice you have to offer would be appreciated.

Check Him Out!

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 20:39:35 -0800

My 12 year old son wrote his very first blog post today-- a review of Tony Hawk Ride. He worked hard on it and is excited for people to read and HOPEFULLY (HINT HINT!) comment.

So, if you would be so kind, hop on over to my review blog and give it a read. This Mom would be so grateful.

What 34 Pounds Gone Looks Like IN MY FACE.

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 06:45:44 -0800

I thought I'd be under 200 pounds by now. But I'm not. I'm still stuck at 203. This is PISSING ME OFF SO MUCH YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW, but I keep reminding myself that there is progress and that's what matters. (or so I tell myself so as not to cry or put a hole in the wall.)

I need to get to at least 150 before my endocrinologist will take me off of met*formin and I really need to get off of met*formin because it is RUINING MY LIFE with the "side effects" and by "side effects" I mean "unpredictable ass explosions."

I'm going to change a few things in my diet this week as well as kick things up a notch at the gym. I'm hoping this does the trick to get things moving again weight loss wise.

199, here I come. Let's hope it happens before the end of the year. Or I will cry. Or put a hole in the wall.

Bokeh Wednesday: A Real Post is Coming Soon I SWEAR, Edition

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 12:08:51 -0800

And the Rockets Red Glad...

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 15:01:55 -0800

About 2 weeks ago my daughter asked me to teach her The America Song, (aka The Star-Spangled Banner.)

When your kid wants to learn The America Song, you freaking teach them The America Song.

So, for 2 weeks straight, I have been singing it to her. Every morning. Every evening. Every car ride to school. Every car ride from school.

She finally started to get the hang out of and asked me to "please not sing it with her anymore!" because "SHE KNOWS IT NOW SO STOP SINGING IT, MOM."

And while I am very proud that my 5 year old (sort of. Almost. Kind of) knows The Star-Spangled Banner, I am maybe going to lose my mind if she doesn't stop singing it EVERY MINUTE OF THE DAY THAT SHE IS AWAKE.

She's supposed to be taking a nap right now, but guess what's she's doing?

SERIOUSLY! GUESS!

As annoying as it can be after hearing it for the 800th time in a single day, it really is the most precious thing in my life right now and I am very proud of her.

Here she is, singing it 5 minutes after she woke up this morning. Enjoy.

Bokeh Wednesday- Love edition

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 09:53:34 -0800

"I love you, mama." she said as we walked hand in hand.

"I love you too, baby girl."

"And I love daddy. And my brothers. And I love myself."

I love myself, she said.

There was no conceit behind that statement. No ego involved.

Simply her truth.

She loves others as she loves her self.

As a woman who grew up feeling shame about most every part of who I am, it was comforting to hear my daughter say those words. Those words were music to my ears, my heart, my soul.

Because it is my hope that by loving who she is, caring for herself and living to her full potential, she will always be able to fully love others in that same wonderful way.

Bokeh Wednesday- Things In My Backyard, Edition

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 11:08:59 -0800

What We Made Last Night - Oma's Snickerdoodles.

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 12:49:12 -0800

(If you want to make them yourself, you would just bake at 375 for 8-10 minutes. Easy AND delicious.)

Hair- A Love Story

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 11:46:04 -0800

I love to braid hair.

I can't tell you how many other peoples children whose hair I've braided for dance recitals or school photos.

"You need to have a girl of your own!" The moms would say.

When I thought that I was finished having children after my sons were born, I would wonder what it would be like to have a daughter, if only to braid her beautiful, long hair.

As The Rhythm Method would have it, I found myself unexpectedly pregnant 7 years after having what I deemed "My Last Child!"

A girl.

A daughter.

And as nervous as I was about mothering a daughter (due to the complicated relationship I have with my own mother) I was THRILLED that I would be able to braid hair EVERY SINGLE DAY if I wanted to.

Of COURSE, MY daughter didn't like for me to braid her hair.

"I WANT TO WEAR IT STRAIGHT DOWN!" she has said in dramatic fashion on more than one hair brushing session.

I thought about cutting her hair into a cute little bob because what's the fun of having a daughter with long hair if I can't braid it? My husband had to talk me out of chopping it all off on more than one occasion.

Eventually, she grew out of the "NO BRAIDS!" phase. Almost every morning, I put her hair into a braid of some kind. Sometimes a fancy braid. Sometimes a regular ol' french braid.

It's time consuming, for sure. Even if she wears it down, it takes what feels like FOREVER to blow dry. And every night I have to put it in a braid so it doesn't wrap around her neck or get tangled while she sleeps.

Not to mention the fights we've had over her hair. Remember The Great Bangs Drama of 2008? OH DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN, I DO.

I've thought about cutting it. She would look adorable with a bob!

But here's the thing.

I have become attached to her long hair. It's beautiful, with it's soft, shiny, golden, highlights. I love the way that it smells after I dry it in the evenings. I love running my fingers through it when she's reading her kindergarten books to me at night. I love watching her "style it" when she's playing dress up.

I know the day will come when she'll tell me she wants short hair. And I will agree and we'll cut it off. Because "It's only hair!" right? But I've come to realize why it means so much to me. That long, beautiful hair of hers reminds me every day of something that I never thought I'd have in my life.

A daughter.

Upper East Side(walk)

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 16:46:57 -0800

There is a Flickr group I belong to that I love more than any other.

It's called "Bokeh Wednesday."

Starting today, I'm going to be posting my Wednesday submissions here. Hoping that posting here will inspire me to be more creative.

If you're not a part of the group (I believe they closed it to new members) you're more than welcome to play along here and post links to your bokeh photos in the comments.

Imagine my fists pumped high in the air when you're reading this.

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 11:47:19 -0800

One of the symptoms that led me to believe I had a thyroid problem was the fact that I had no endurance during workouts.

I've never been a Super Athlete, but workouts have always been a part of my life. When I was a teenager, I would workout for hours in my bedroom (with layers of clothing to "sweat out" the fat.) When I got married, I joined a women only gym. I would work out every morning before work. I left that gym when I got pregnant with my first child, I quit that gym, but joined another gym 2 months after my son was born.

And I went every single day.

Exercise has always been a part of my life.

Sure, I went through periods where I would be "too busy" to work out, but those periods never lasted long.

After I had my daughter, I got back into the gym right away. It took me longer to lose the weight than it had in the past, but I pushed myself hard at the gym and it paid off.

But after I had reached the 70 pounds lost mark, something began to happen.

Workouts became harder. I couldn't push myself as hard. I'd get winded easily.

I started skipping days at the gym because I was physically unable to work out. "I'll take a week off." I told myself.

A week came and went. The thought of working out made me want to cry. I was exhausted, unmotivated.

I remember one time in particular. I had forced myself to get up off the couch and go to the gym. I was tired. This wasn't a normal tired. This particular tired literally made my body ache.

I made it to the gym and stepped on the treadmill. I turned the treadmill on and begin to walk.

In less than 5 minutes, I was exhausted. I had a hard time catching my breath. My muscles ached.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" I thought to myself. "Why am I being SO LAZY?"

Then, right there on the treadmill, I started to cry.

That workout was the last one I had for a long time.

Turns out, it wasn't laziness.

It was hypothyroidism. (Hashimotos.)

Anyone who's read her for a while knows that I went undiagnosed for over a year. When I was finally diagnosed and put on medication, I knew that I'd have to get back into the gym. I was naive in thinking that I'd feel back to myself after I started taking the medication.

It took months.

Getting back into the gym was one of the hardest things I've had to do. My body was so out of shape, so unhealthy. Each workout felt like TORTURE. I cried more times than I care to admit. But I kept going, believing that one day it would be better. I would tell myself that one day my knees would stop buckling while I did the elliptical. I told myself that one day I'd be able to run on the treadmill for more than 30 seconds at a time. Even when I didn't really believe it, I TOLD MYSELF it would happen. That was enough to get me through many workouts.

I started on a level 4 on the elliptical and a 3.0 on the treadmill. For free weights, I used 3 pound free weights.

Last night I ran (not walked) on the treadmill alternating between 5.1-5.5 and ran a mile (without stopping) in 11:52. Then, after I did 8 lb free weights, I did 30 minutes at a level 9 on the elliptical.

My knees didn't buckle once.

Nor did I shed a single tear.

The speed at which the weight is coming off is frustrating at the moment. Still not under 200 pounds, although, AM CLOSER. 203.5 pounds as of this morning. (OMG!) I still have such a long way to go. However today I choose to focus on the progress I've made physically.

I am stronger.

I have more endurance.

And that's pretty fucking awesome.

The One That Should Be Flagged For Excessive Use of the Word "Tagline."

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 17:24:45 -0800

"How do you come up with the taglines for your blog?" A curious reader asked.

"Mostly from comments left here." I replied.

I can't express how much I love the comments that are left here. Some of my favorite things to say in my real life have been things people have said to me here.

And as much as I hate to say it, my favorite are almost always from Random Assholes (aka: TROLLS.)

(Or, like all the cool kids on the internet say "The Haters Who Are Just Jealous.")

Don't get me wrong-- I don't dwell on the mean, nasty, negative comments. As another blogger once told me "Ignore those people. Don't feed into their negativity." (Weird. That person now has an entire site dedicated to The Hate, but, I'M NOT JUDGING.)

(I'm just jealous.)

Err, what was I saying again? Oh, yes! While I don't dwell on the negative comments, I most certainly do find humor in them. And some of them have been, as my husband's Psycho-Ex once wrote in his yearbook, "permanently inscribed on my heart and soul."

Like these:

"You deserve everything you have... AND LESS!!!!!!!!!"

"I'd slap that cookie out of your hand!!"

"There goes those damn RENTERS!"

"check your ass to see how many pounds you gain watching that Tv."

"You are all addicted to those lakers and to that Kolbe"

Those are the few that I remember and that I will occasionally use in Real Life Conversations.

I'm not saying every troll comment is "hilarious." Some have been cruel. Some have been hateful. Some have made me physically shake from anger. (Because, say what you want about me, I can take it. LEAVE MY KIDS OUT OF IT.)

But, for the most part, those types of comments are so absurd, you can't help but laugh.

Here is The One that inspired my current tagline:

Losers cry and eat/waste money on bean dip/gameshowtryouts etc. , If you love your kids so much, go do something about it. Winners do the math , suck it up and think about what matters and take care of business. If you polled the people that have replied to your post, probably 60% own thier home, they didnt do anything special (like win the lottery or win on some gameshow), they just put thier home/kids above the me, me. $8a day on starbucks/beandip is $2920 a year x (times) how ever many years you have been wasting money on rent/beandip. Not to mention that it had to cost something out of pocket to travel around to meet people from the internet, and interview Elaine from Sienfield. Egocentricity should be thy middle name , if you only got paid $10.00 an hourfor every hour you have spent BLOGGING or reading BLOGS or met other renters who BLOG, I am willing to wager you would have quite the down payment.

The fact that someone actually took the time to write that, to DO THE BEAN DIP MATH, still blows my mind. And it still makes me laugh.

Which is why it's my tagline, two years later.

I don't think that turning those type of comments into taglines equals "feeding into the negativity." I think it's "turning a negative into a positive" or "making lemonade out of blog comment lemons" if you will.

Is there a point to this post? Because "trolls give good tagline?"

Yes. There is.

I did the math.

2 years+ same tagline= time for a new one.

What "Feeling Better" Looks Like.

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 21:20:29 -0800

It's been a rough few days. The coughing. The crying. The sleepless nights.

I'm tired.

She's tired.

But it seems as though she's finally on the mend.

Oh, that precious smile. How I've missed it.

It's good to see it again.

Get Well Soon, Sweet Girl

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 13:44:56 -0800

"I'm sorry you're so sick." I say, as I hold her close to my chest.

"I'm sorry I'm sick too." She says, as she runs her little finger up and down my arm.

"I just want you to get better so I can kiss you and tickle you and play hide and seek with you again."

"You can kiss me on my head. Just not on my mouth. Because you'll get sick like me."

So, I place my lips on her head and kiss her over and over again. Her hair smells like strawberries.

She begins to cough and is unable to stop. She buries her face into my chest and she starts to cry.

"It hurts right here when I cough, Mommy." She says through the tears.

I can feel the lump forming in my throat, the tears welling in my eyes. I begin to cry with her. "I know and I wish I could make it stop hurting. I'm sorry, Chunky Head. I'm so sorry."

Last night things took a turn for the worse. A fever of 104.7, pain in her chest, her tummy, her head. It was awful to watch, knowing there was very little I could do to make it better. A trip to urgent care was made. "It's a cold." the doctor said. "Give her these medications and bring her back if she gets worse."

Out the door we went.

I did my best to help her.

Tylenol. Water. Baths. Chicken noodle soup. Foot rubs.

And while those things helped ease the pain temporarily, they couldn't relieve her entirely from her suffering.

I don't want to see her suffering anymore. I don't want to hear her weep because the coughing hurts. I don't want her to wake up in the middle of the night sobbing because "she's burning hot."

I just want to hear her laugh and sing and be bossy with her brothers again.

I just want her to be healthy and whole again.

Hopefully, she will be. And hopefully it will be very soon.