| Toni 的个人资料FIGHTING INSANITY照片日志列表 |  工具  帮助 |
|
10月28日 Thinking about...To those who love me, here is your update:
I have successfully done nothing the last several days.
I've ignored the fact that we are in desperate need of food--I refuse to go to the grocery store. I just hate it.
I went to Cheyenne's school to help decorate for a party, but ended up just kind of standing around looking pretty.
I have attempted to clean my house many times, but the dogs make it so it's like it never happened.
I'm actually on a new diet and exercise program--it's called "Thinking About Getting Back in Shape and Eating Right." Step #1: Try canned tuna--see if you can handle eating it everyday. I felt like I was popping open a can of cat food. Enter Tabasco sauce.
It's cold, and windy. I hate cold and windy.
We have company. The company is nice. I'm down with company. It gives me someone to talk to when it's cold and windy.
Cheyenne has succumbed to wearing a turtleneck under her slutty costume. Her friends do not approve; I wonder what they're going trick-or-treating as.
Mia will not set foot in a Halloween store, or in a Halloween section of any other store. It's too scary. I hunted down Cheyenne's old, and very cute, bumblebee costume from way back when, dragged it out of the attic, showed it to the kid...I really don't think she's going trick-or-treating as anything but her damn self. She hates Halloween.
We planted a garden--finally. There are now flowers, pretty ones, in front of our house. Go us.
Thanks to all the new and unusual people that have commented on my little blog. You make me smile...sometimes laugh hysterically.
We're headed off to some wildlife preserve down in Lawton, Oklahoma, to do some hiking and see some buffalo. It should be fun. I love you all and hope you have an excellent weekend. 10月23日 Conversating with a 10-year-old Just when you think you know somebody...
When you think you have this motherhood thing licked.
My kid rained on my parenting parade this weekend...my friggin' kid.
I love her. I really do. But are we really at "that" age where mother and daughter seem to be from different planets instead of being of the same body?
So. I'm talking casually to Cheyenne about...I can't remember what, when she throws this question at me: "Is God a human?"
Before I can say anything, she answers herself. "Well, probably not. Jesus was a human once, but now he's not. WE are humans...but God...he's kind of like a big fairy, isn't he?"
Apparently she had this all figured out before I could think of an answer to her first question. It's my fault, really. I know we would all do well to make it to church on Sundays...but that's an entirely different blog entry in itself.
Later that very day, we were sitting around watching "Dumbo" together with Mia. Towards the beginning, workers were busy putting up the circus tent. There wasn't a white man in sight. Cheyenne made this observation and again started with the questions.
"How come all the circus workers are black? Are they slaves?"
"No, honey, they weren't slaves, but..."
"Oh. Yeah. The elephants must've been more comfortable with them since they looked like they were from Africa."
"No, Cheyenne, no. That's not exactly it." Where are you getting this stuff, kid?
Halfway through the movie, Dumbo and his mouse get schnockered on spiked water. They wind up in a tall tree, and can't remember anything that happened.
"How come they don't remember that Dumbo flew, Mom?" Cheyennne asked.
"Well, they were drinking alcohol, and alcohol sometimes makes you forget things you did. Also, you might do things you wouldn't normally do if you hadn't been drinking alcohol. And normally, Dumbo wouldn't have even thought of flying."
"Oooohhh. So getting drunk was a very good thing for Dumbo," said Cheyenne, again coming to her own conclusion before I could get started on my lecture.
Crap! Not the desired effect I was hoping to achieve by that question/answer session. I'm at a loss for words. Now I have to add "Dumbo" to my list of questionable children's movies.
Sunday, at "The Halloween Express":
"How about this costume, Mom?"
I looked. I shouldn't have. The picture on the package featured a 10 year old as "Dorothy-Gale-gone-slut". Who actually buys this stuff for their kids? Moreover, who decides to sell it and market it towards the 8-12 age group?
I suppose Cheyenne was just trying to soften me up for her next pick, which was considerably less promiscuous, but still had a touch of trashy, and I'm not exactly sure what the hell it's supposed to be--a punky/ghoulish/cheerleader outfit?
"That's fine, Cheyenne, but you'll have to wear a turtleneck under it."
"Oh, that's okay, Mom. I don't mind being cold." And she gleefully skipped off to the counter with the sexy-ish costume.
"No, Cheyenne. Actually I meant you'd have to wear the turtle neck because you don't need to be showing off our belly button or half your chest. And you'll probably have to wear tights, too. But that is because of the cold weather." I said as I paid for the costume.
Cheyenne's eyes narrowed and her smile turned into a snarl.
"Mooom. Give me a break. This costume is not that bad. I mean, the Wizard of Oz costume was really bad. But I didn't get that one because I thought this one really looked okay."
"So, why did you show me the Dorothy costume in the first place? And it doesn't matter; either way, my daughter is not walking out into the town looking like jailbait. You're wearing the turtleneck and that's that."
"Then I'm not wearing the costume at all."
"Yes you are. I just paid for it and I can't return it. You're wearing it."
"Humpff." Cheyenne pouted for a few minutes as we walked out of the store.
"Mom?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
"What does 'jailbait' mean?"
I am truly not ready for her to get any older than she is already.
10月19日 As Per Your Request...You know who you are.May 23
VANITYI realize that people do care about weight loss/ being in shape/ healthy eating habits. So do I--I'm not bashing that. I also realize that it's just not that easy for some. I'm just commenting on how it seems so many people are going crazy with the dieting and exercise to achieve that "celebrity" level of physical perfection...it's all they think about, and when it doesn't happen for them, they feel ugly and awkward and inadequate...I'm guilty of it, too, though, but this is just me ranting and raving. Gotta do it every once in a while. ~Toni
Looking back, maybe I could've prevented it.
This whole thing.
This rant. It was probably my own fault.
Maybe my shoes were too hot pink.
Maybe if my hair wasn't so greasy, it wouldn't have shined so in the sunlight.
Maybe I caught his eye with my "I'm a hot and sweaty mamma-jamma pushing a stroller uphill in 90 degree weather--don't talk to me" attitude. Whatever possessed that nasty construction worker to yell out to me--rather enthusiastically I might add--this afternoon on my walk with Mia, I will never really know.
Normally, I'm too busy huffing and puffing and wishing I were home eating chocolate instead of participating in this form of self-torture known as exercise, but today, the utter uniqueness of this comment caught me off guard:
"I bet you could hold me upside-down if you wanted to!"
I'm still a little baffled--what the hell did that mean?
I couldn't help but laugh. What creativity!
In all actuallity, I should be upset. I am not the type of girl to get blatantly hit on, especially when I'm looking less than my best. And I'm what you would call a little short for my weight. So I'm quite sure this guy was messing with me. Unless he had really poor eyesight--in which case maybe he should hold off on buying his precious Skoal for a while and save up for a pair of glasses. Then he wouldn't have mistaken the layer of back-fat I got goin' on for rippling muscles...
I could've settled for "Hey, nice legs!" or even the generic, all-purpose whistle. Or anything less confusing than that upside-down line.
All of this went down about 10 minutes into my hour-long walk, so unfortunately, I had plenty of pondering time left before I made it back to the house. Rather than get myself worked up over the Joe-Dirt-On-Steriods (and when I say "on steriods", I mean only the mullet was longer and the teeth were fewer), I became enraged about the diet fads and workout crazes of today.
I get so tired, and literally so sick, of the words "trans" and "anti-oxidants" and "organic" and, my personal unfavorite, "bad carbs vs. good carbs". I want to be as healthy as the next person, but not to the point of where I can't enjoy a good peanut-butter and sprinkles sandwich every now and then. The way I see it, I should be able to exercise regularly and eat what I want to eat, within reason, of course, and my body will be what it is meant to be.
If I have a little underarm jiggle, well, then I have a little underarm jiggle. If my bootie doesn't fit into a size 5, I'm not going to cry. It's not like I'm a freak because I'm not a Jessica Simpson clone, and I'm not going to work like a madman to get there. I don't want to be one of those people that knows the scientific name of every muscle of the body and won't rest until each one is fully developed and perfected. I've never met a spendidly happy dieting/workout monster.
I'm not encouraging anyone to chow down on a bag of Double-stuffed Oreos every night for 3 weeks. I'm just saying that it's probably okay to have a little pasta, or eat a little yogurt--it's not going to kill you. Like my friend INKA said, "I'm so over trying to be a toothpick." Yeah, me too.
I'd love to see magazine headlines with words like "Kind" or "Thoughtful" more often, rather than "Gorgeous" and "Sexy". What are my girls going to get from that?
Must. Remember. Inner beauty.
Alright. I'm done.
This message was brought to you by the brick-laying, off-the-charts-Redneck working in my neighborhood today. Thank you, thank you.
And yes, I most likely could hold you upside-down if I wanted to. Sleepy, Worn-out Ramblings Captain's Log: Thursday, October 19th. I've allowed Cheyenne to have 2 friends spend the night. Caleb is out of town. I'm tired. I have a houseful of dogs and children, and I just now realized that I, Toni, am in charge. I am ultimately responsible for everything, and this...is...scary.
This morning I've pretty much allowed Mia to hang with the big girls--they're all having a freakin' blast with wooden blocks out in the living room.
Is it wrong to want to adopt Cheyenne's friends? Everyone is getting along so perfectly. All I had to do was cook pancakes.
It's cold. Too cold. For Pete's sake, it's only October. I'm not ready for this kind of weather. In Florida, I'd still be wearing shorts--at least on and off for the next 2 months. Here, the start of a very dreary season has just begun. I'm not a winter person. One or two weeks of chilliness, just long enough to enjoy a fire and a cup of hot chocolate, and I'm over it.
My husband called a few days ago and sweetly informed me that we will be having his boss over for dinner this coming Tuesday. I suppose he wants me to cook something interesting. I hope he doesn't think I'm going to clean. Why bother? The dog smell never goes away. At least it's not like this time last year, when we were potty-training 2 puppies and the entire place smelled like puppy pee, poop and puke. Oh, no, wait. IT STILL SMELLS LIKE THAT.
And so there it is. Your update. Hey, Jenny and James--how 'bout that? An update. It's what you do for family and friends who have been thinking about you and all the fabulous things you've been doing...all the delicious food you've been eating.
 Ohp! 11:00 a.m.--time to play some Twister. Have a great day everybody! 10月17日 Dating Ah, yes. Dating. Me.
Finding someone to date, this day and age, after being out of practice for so long...getting back into the swing of things--is not easy.
Getting ready--do I look alright? What should I wear? Should I come off as the sporty-soccer-mom, or as the trendy shopaholic? Where do I go to meet decent people? The mall? The park? The grocery store?
And my make-up--how much mascara is too much? Lipstick--do I even wear it? Should I keep my hair up? Or straighten it and leave it down?
I'm always on the look-out for a prospective female friend--I pass someone with a screaming toddler in the frozen food section and I think, "Could she be the one? The one I've been hoping for?"
And then I quickly decide that, no--she looked a little too frazzled, a little too snooty, or maybe even a little too...trailer-trashy to be my stay-at-home-with-a-2-year-old-playdate-mommy-friend.
I've been burned before, which is why I think I'm having such a hard time with this. It was a little over a year ago. Her name was Liz. We met in a Target parking lot. She had shoulder length brownish-blondish hair, was about my same height and stature, and we were wearing practically identical outfits, and she had a screaming baby in her buggy--just like me. She made the first move.
"I'm sorry. I know this is weird--Do you work? Can I give you my phone number? I'm so desperate for friends..." she said. I liked the way her voice sounded. I liked the way her baby looked--somewhat clean and just the right age for Mia.
We walked to our little red cars, which coincidentally were parked side by side, and exchanged numbers. She called the next day and invited me to her neighborhood playground.
The play-date went wonderfully. We had so much in common! The kids got along so well. I left the playground on cloud nine, thinking that I had finally found a friend that I could share my every boring mommy moment with. But when I called her the next week, she didn't answer her phone. No problem. I left a message--just a short one, nothing too stalkery.
A week went by. I called again, just to make sure she had gotten the first message. She picked up!
And then totally gave me the brush off.
Fine. I can take a hint...sort of. I called about 2 weeks later. Same story, different day. Women are so complicated.
So I've had my share of play-dating heart breaks--and I've only had one, but I consider that to be my share. I can't handle getting dumped again.
Apparently, there are things I still need to learn as far as dating goes. For instance, there are these things called "mommy calling cards"--they include your name, number and e-mail, and you give them out to possible mommy friends. It's like you're trying to find a job or something.
I'm not quite ready to join one of those groups--especially those held at a church...I'm leery of that. I don't want to be sucked in to some religion just to make friends with a bunch of hackling old crows. Wow. That came out rather harsh. Perhaps it's my attitude that drives them away...
On second thought, maybe I'd better order my calling cards ASAP. 10月14日 Creating Monsters It started out innocently enough.
But what began as a mommy-daughter fun sleepover quickly turned into a dangerous game of I-will-never-ever-sleep-in-my-own-bed-ever...for Mia.
Just one night--one night--while Caleb was out of town.
"Wanna sleep in Mommy's cozy bed with me?" (I was scared and for some reason thought a toddler would provide some sort of protection.) And I must admit, it's so wonderful to wake up to a pair of sleepy brown eyes and teeny-tiny soft hands patting your face and a sweet little voice saying "Chocolate milk?"
Getting Mia to fall asleep back in her own bed after that fateful night proved to be difficult. Even she did conk out (after reading for an hour and then pretending to fall asleep myself), she was always up and at 'em 2 hours later, 3 if I was lucky...crying and begging me to bring her to my bed.
So I caved. I did. At 1:00 a.m. I don't have much will power or patience when it comes to screaming 2-year-olds.
After about a week or two of this madness, Mia decided to stop playing games. "Why waste time?" she thought. "Who are we kidding? I know I'm going to be in Mom's bed in less than 1.4 hours, let's just skip this Mia's room crap and head straight for the big enchilada."
And so, a vicious cycle began. When I go to bed, Mia goes to bed. While I sleep on a foot of mattress, Mia rolls around in the middle 3 feet. She uses my most comfortable pillow, and if I'm really lucky, she uses me.
To get even with me for this, Caleb decided to put Darcy in the bed--just once, at our feet, because she was cold, or lonely, or depressed I DON'T KNOW. So now have a big honkin' cuddly dog sleeping with us as well--and not at the foot of the bed. She somehow manages to get right up under Caleb's legs, and then work her way up until her head is on the pillow. Sometimes she just spreads out and takes up almost the entire bottom half of the bed, so that our knees are pulled up to our chests and we're laying diagonally, and uncomfortably, IN OUR OWN BED.
How did this happen? How did this situation escalate so quickly? Is there anyway to undo this? Am I doomed to 3 more years of sleeping miserably on the edge of the mattress with a single square inch of pillow? Will my bed forever smell like dog hair? Isn't my husband bothered by snuggling all night long with an animal that hasn't been bathed in over a month?
Well, I've grossed myself out. Think I'll go take a nap on the couch now. 10月12日 Wedding Semi-Recap We are back in freezing Oklahoma, after spending a week in sunny Pensacola. What a trip! I'm amazed at how much we were able to cram in, in addition to the wedding festivities. We're just that talented, I guess.
For those of you wondering, Mia did indeed walk down the aisle. I think she got just about to the end before she realized what she was doing and ran straight to Caleb, but hey. You take what you can get, and I thought she did pretty darn good.
Cheyenne looked like a mini-supermodel. I cried while she got her hair and make-up done.
Actually, I cried all the live long day. I teared up in the beauty parlor, I sniffled in the dressing room, I openly wept in the church, cried heavily at the reception, and straight up bawled back at home at midnight. Holy crap. I don't know what came over me, why I was so flippin' emotional, Geez Louise. I took a peek at the wedding pictures online, and my face was all contorted and red in just about every one of them.
I think it is just wonderful that Jenny has found someone that makes her so happy. Jenny, my little sister, the one I used to fight with, the one that gave me permanent scars all over my arms with her cat claws...Jenny, the one that always looked out for me, whether or not she could do anything to help me...she cheered me up when I needed it but least expected it. She's everything you could want or need in a sister, and I know she'll be that much more as a wife. James, you chose wisely. I'm so glad you two found each other. 10月6日 Update--not for the kiddies.My mom. Is. Awesome. Awesome.
I'm down in Florida, have been since 1:30 a.m. Tuesday morning, and we had the notorious bachelorette party last night--complete with a tricked out limo for 14 lovely ladies, drinks out the yin-yang, and hats. Crazy hats. It was our theme.
I will most certainly be posting pictures of this party, mainly because I got to see my button-the-top-button-goody-too-shoes sister get wild, but even better, MY MOM BOOTY DANCED. At Phinneas Phoggs, in Seville Quarter, to a little ditty that went something like, "Shake that ass, bitch, and let me see whatcha got." And then the whole club pretty much broke out in a chorus of "Go white girl! Go white girl!" As she and my little sister dropped it like it was hot on the dance floor. Fabulous.
She cannot walk today.
No, really. She's limping and not loving life.
My other little sister, the one getting married, had a good time. I didn't think she had it in her to do all the stuff on her bad girl list, but she completed every last task. I'll give a sample of said list. If you know Jenny, this will be extra hilarious.
And she did them all. With gusto. We had such a marvelous time. Can't wait for these pictures to come back. The rest of the trip is going well--very busy, but well. I've gotten to spend at least a few minutes with my friends and Caleb's side of the family. His dad is being our saviour by dog-watching and lending us his house and car. My mom is officially unhinged, my dad is calm as can be, much like the bride and groom. Things should really get interesting today--the rehearsal dinner, the rest of the family coming in town... Oh. You guys all have a great weekend. |
|
|
