Monday, August 28, 2006

Lucky Me

I'm feeling euphoric tonight. Probably it's just the endorphins from my run, but I take what I can get. Actually, before my run I was in a terrible mood. I'd just gone to the first Parent Association meeting of the year. What a fiasco. Forty-five minutes of "Wouldn't it be cool if... but I'm not volunteering to do that, maybe some of the stay-at-home moms or dads could..." Blah Blah Blah. "I'm so busy and important; you can't expect me to actually do any of the things I'd like to see done" Self-important twits. Immediately following the meeting, I drove home and went on a run. I feel Fabulous, and I'm nearly ready for bed. I think I may end up volunteering for a technology commitee and maybe help maintain or moderate a parent-teacher blog or something. I could do that, with the weird hours I keep... but helping at the more traditional bake-sale type thing, or organizing the fundraising events sounds like hell on earth for me. Funny, I love to bake... it must be the people I hate dealing with.

Well, Simba tells me it's time to go to bed. Simba is my slightly Hitler-like cat (and I stole that from here...) who allows me and Daddy Mushroom to sometimes share his bed. He is staring at me from his perch above my head on the back of the recliner I am awkwardly nesting in. He obviously can't understand why I would sit here typing when I could be stroking his soft fur, and cuddling with him in his queen size. I can't resist sharing this one last picture. He will surely be embarassed to know that he is now captured for posterity actually cuddling with one of the dogs. That's what he gets for taking possession of the bed...

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Yes, Eleven Miles is a Long Way

I made it though. I felt great until starting into the eighth mile. Mile eight was still okay, mile nine was not bad, mile ten was tough... finishing was rough. Mostly it was the heat that was getting to me at the end. We started at a little after 6 am, and finished at about 9. Two hours and thirty-five, forty minutes. I forgot my watch, so I'm not exactly sure. I think we did about eleven minute miles to start and slowed gradually to 12 or 13 minutes (which, for the uninitiated is really slow, pretty much a fast walking pace). But the point was just to finish the distance, not to set any records. I have the feeling I'm going to be pretty sore the rest of today and most of tommorrow. Next week; 12 miles!

Thursday, August 24, 2006

St. Jude Marathon Update

On a different subject, I'm up for a challenge this weekend. I'm supposed to do 11 miles with my running group (the Memphis Running Beans... cute name huh?) I've never done a distance like that. I've been barely working out... three miles here and there. Yesterday I did five. I feel good, but... This is what I get for setting a lifetime goal of running a marathon. Anyway, please check out my fundraising page because the marathon I'm going to run in benefits St. Jude, and all the money I collect goes straight to them and the very worthy cause of saving children's lives. Did you know that no child is turned away because of financial reasons? They take rich, poor, uninsured, whatever. So every dollar I raise goes to helping some child get treatment that his/her parents can't afford.

HA!

My apologies to the men reading my blog... but honestly, it's about time men start feeling some of the 'perfect body' pressure. Daddy mushroom and I were watching this reality crap show the other day about some pro-football teams' cheerleader selection. Neither of us could believe the standard for 'too fat'... one woman was told that she'd have to loose five to ten pounds (and several inches from her waist) in a week. Not only was she totally good looking, and probably already normal to underweight, but how disgustingly irresponsible of the women in charge to tell a girl to lose that much weight that fast. It makes me glad I have boys, not girls. No matter what this article says, I just can't believe that the pressure men feel to look good will equal the pressure on women in my lifetime.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Usually I wouldn't cry and carry on about such little thing, but the thought has been much on my mind lately. Why can't people just respect one another? Seriously, why do people have such a hard time realizing that the person that takes our money at the grocery is a real, thinking, feeling human being? I work a meaningless, mind-numbing retail job. Maybe 1 in 10 actually look me in the eye, even fewer look at me as though I might actually have a brain cell or two. (I'm thinking of starting a count... The empirical scientist in me is crying out) Daddy Mushroom said to me today, "You know, the hardest part of any job is trying to explain it to outsiders." This is exactly what set me off today. A regular customer asked me (rhetorically, of course - he didn't really want to know the answer) why we didn't have another register open, because he had to wait (all of an extra thirty seconds) to pay. He was very confrontational, very rude, and it hurt my feelings because this is someone I've talked to, chatted with, and always given the best service possible. My first thought was, well now let's see what kind of service I give him next time. Then I realized that then I would be giving in to the meanies, and treating him with the same disrespect that he showed me. So, now matter how temporarily good it might make me feel, I will not be making any snide remarks, frowning, or glaring. I'll make excuses for him... He was just having a bad day. I'm just sad he decided he'd take it out on me. And that is where my point comes in. Some people are so arrogant as to think that they must know the best way to do anything, even if they have no experience with the subject at hand. And why is that? It's all a basic lack of respect. An "I'm smarter than you are" attitude. So just because I work a register, I'm too dumb to know how to do anything else, and too incompetent to know my own job well enough to do it right. If I've learned nothing else from five years behind a counter, I've learned not to judge, not to assume, and always to tip well. So, here's my picture... my boys trying on someone else's shoes, to remind me to always try to do the same.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

I'm In!

Three cheers for me! I've been accepted into the accelerated nursing program at God's Own Personal University... hereinafter GOPU. I'm so excited/relieved/tense. It'll be one heck of a busy year starting in January. This will mean living solely off DM's income while I get educated (again). My heart is pounding in my throat, wondering how much further into debt we are going to get before I'm done. We're already pretty far down the slippery slope. But in 18 months, diploma in hand I'll be infinitely more employable, and I'll be making 2 gazillion times more money than I do now (yes, that's an exact calculation). Shovel in hand, I will bury this debt-hole we've sunk into... debt consolidation be-damned, I'm going to pay it all off on my own! So much for my claim of being ambitionless. Now to find the money to pay the deposits...

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Some Pictures, Some Thoughts


Pictures of Madi


Mom and baby are doing just fine. I've been bragging all day about what a beautiful baby niece I have. Don't you love the four generations picture?

My own little angel is crying, I must go help get him to bed.

Monday, August 14, 2006

She's Here!

Welcome to the world Madi! My niece was born today. Nineteen inches, 6 pounds 3 ounces. For those with no source of reference, that's pretty teeny tiny. I must say she is the fourth cutest baby, and the sweetest looking little baby girl I ever saw. I only got to see her a short time tonight. I had to come back to put my own baby mushrooms to bed. My sister said she thought she was going to die, but she managed to get through it. She got an epidural, and strangely enough it made her itchy, so they had to give her Benedryl. Beside the fact that she hadn't slept for thirty six hours or more, the drugs were making her even loopier. Poor kid also hadn't eaten in twenty four hours either. All I can say is that it's an amazingly good piece of engineering that the same hormones that induce labor inhibit memory, or no woman would do this to herself more than once. Even more clever is that the gush of hormones that come with breastfeeding and other baby-bonding make such a nice high, that you actually find yourself wanting to do it again. Nature knows what she's doing.

Pictures to follow.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Confessions, Obsessions, and the Like

I may never grow up.

I am so jealous of my sister. Yes, she's a high school dropout. Yes, she's barely twenty and already fulfilling the 'barefoot and pregnant' part of southern living. But she does it all with grace and beauty and lightness of heart. She is sweetness and light itself. She thinks charitably, speaks kindly, acts respectfully. This and she's beautiful, and weighs less than me despite being 9 months pregnant and six inches taller than me. Any questions?

Going against what I've said in previous posts, I do (almost constantly) think about having that fourth baby. Not to have that much anticipated girl baby, just because I love having babies. The fabled 'they' always say, stick to what your good at. Well, I'm good at babies, good at children. I've never had much ambition for career/business success. All I ever hoped for was a job that I could stand that would make enough money to support myself and my various obsessions. I love unequivically being a mother. The best present I've ever received (to date) is the mother's day card this year from my four-year-old. He signed it himself! It is my most precious artifact, my first sample of his handwriting. Nothing fulfills me like my family life. To misquote 'Jerry Maguire', "They complete me".

Despite what I've just written, I do not find my children endlessly, eternally diverting. In fact, I tend to ignore all but the biggest catastrophes. I play with them until I'm disinterested, or I remember something else I'm supposed to be doing. I prefer to let the older boys play their own games and work out their own problems. The baby I hand off at every available opportunity. I love breastfeeding, I love cuddling and napping with them. But about fifteen minutes of "Thomas the Train" or five minutes of dangling one of those Lamaze baby toys, and I'm about played out.

I am absolutely incapable of lying when it matters. Oh, I can fib about things that don't matter, to people I don't know. But don't ask me to dissemble to someone I know. Especially not if it's important. I know this sounds like a good thing. But think about it for a moment; there are many occassions for which a little white lying is preferable to brutal truth telling. Ugly craft hand-made for me? Disgusting split-pea soup cooked with love? Even when I try to lie, the truth is written on my face. According to my closest family members and friends, I have one of the most readable faces ever seen. If I don't like something, I can't hide it. If I don't believe you, don't like you, get bored... well, you'll know it.

I am lazy. There are few things I like as well as sitting, or laying down with either my laptop or a good book. Yes, I'm training for a marathon, and I love soccer... but give me a few spare minutes and you'll find me curled up in a cushy chair, doing nothing. I hate the process of keeping my house clean and tidy, though I love having a neat and tidy house. However...

I am a spendthrift. I cannot stomach the idea of spending money on something my husband or I can do ourselves. Hire a maid? Are you kidding? (Which reminds me, I am obsessed with DIY shows). Buying things at full price makes me intensely nervous. That being said...

I'm a sucker for clearance racks and special sales.

I'm obsessed with avocado, spinach, and garlic salt. There is never enough garlic salt.

I hate to get boring. That's enough for one post.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Life's a Beach

Well, the vacation's over, and it's back to the real world, so to speak. We had a really wonderful, family bonding experience. Every day was about 95% good behavior from the kids. I was pleasantly suprised. I got the benefits of gossip from the high school reunion without actually having to go. We visited family on our way from one place to another. We spent 3 days on the beach with no major sunburns. The whole vacation was a rousing success. The DM and I discussed making camping trips be a yearly event, and dreamed of someday RV'ing around the country. We experienced major attacks of "the grass is greener" all week, as I touched on in my last post. We saw some beautiful houses on lakefront property. The lake is so big, looking out on it is the same effect as looking at the ocean. We drooled. We dreamed. I was meant to be a beach girl. But speaking practically I've never wanted to live near the ocean, California has the earthquake issue, the Gulf and Southern East Coasts have hurricanes, and further north is too cold. (As an aside I do currently live on the New Madrid fault, which I hope to rectify before the big one) So we dreamed. How can you say no to the view, the water gently lapping against the shore, the gentle breezes, even the spectacular thunderstorms? Then we came home, and my pragmatic mother told me all about houses falling into the lake due to erosion, and the lack of good jobs in little tourist towns, and reminded me how very very cold it gets in the winter. She's always waking me from my best daydreams. I suppose everyone needs someone like that... Someone to keep you solidly grounded in reality.I need all the help I can get. Flights of fancy are my specialty.
On our last night in the tent, one of those spectacular thunderstorms blew in from over the lake. It was amazing. I was sure I was going to die. I love thunderstorms from the relative safety of my house. Listening to the thunder, and feeling it shake the ground while in a tent is a completely different matter. Lightning was striking all around us. The boys slept through it like it was nothing. Only mama mushroom laid awake, counting seconds between flashes and thunder, and trying to remember that the likelihood of getting hit by lightning is very low. It took a concentrated effort not to run for the truck. It helps to have someone (or in this case some three) to be brave for. That, and I knew that daddy mushroom would just laugh at me. Fear of looking foolish wins out over mortal peril.
I have some scrapbooks to compile, and if I had anything important to say, I've forgotten what it might have been. So long, good night, enjoy the pictures, and thanks for all the fish.