Dear: Chicken Of The Sea

I am currently tossing back a few Tums in order to ease the stomach ache that I know was caused by you.  I bought a can of you this evening with the hopes of making a delicious sandwich for dinner.  I even splurged and purchased the "All White Chunk Albacore in Water".  What happened to you and your quality?  I opened a can of your finest and went to drain the liquid out and the top of the can completely caved in causing the tuna-mush to ooze out the sides.  It was virtually impossible to "drain" anything out of the can.  I could go on forever about my disappointment, but describing it now is just making the stomach ache that much worse.  Needless to say, only a third of the sandwich was consumed and the rest was quickly rushed to the trash can outside.  I intend to take the second can I purchased and just throw it away. Leaving it for even a cat to eat would be cruel.

Nerd

I read a lot of books.  Sometimes I have read an entire series more than once (and in some cases, more than twice).  It started with my parents making me read Harry Potter instead of the 4 self-help books I had on my nightstand.  Best therapy I've ever had was in that entire series, followed by the Twilight series, the House of Night series, and now starting the Feather series.  I'm completely into anything that seems opposite from reality.  If my reality is one that is painful, stressful, boring, or even great, I love to read these books.  My life consists of many stress factors.  The books I read keep my imagination going, which I feel keeps me young.  (Don't argue this with me...it has to be why I'm so immature sometimes).  They also clear my mind of the daily regiment of pretty much every little thing that I might be responsible for.  Who can't love that?

So, with all of my reading I've done, I've also done a lot of writing.  Clearly.  Ultimately, I hope to write a novel of my own to include my own silly imagination and help others fall asleep with fun things on their minds at night.  To start, I'm looking at having this fun little hobby published.  I actually contacted a publishing company.  Geez, if anything, I could have a bunch printed off that would be for just family and friends.  Or, I can think bigger (which I always do) and think it can go beyond my loved ones.  My brother is published in the science fields for some of the research he did at the Fred Hutchison Cancer Research Center.  I'd like to be published, too, but without having to poke sharp objects at cute little pets.
Well, that's something I'm working on.

On another nerdy note, Farrah and I watch the Harry Potter movies... every... day.  She is a huge fan.  As am I.  It, at least, has to be playing in the background. She wants it to be playing in my car, on our main TV when we get home, and now while Mike is out of town, upstairs in my room EVERY NIGHT.  I don't mind too much because I love the movies, but it is getting to the point where she and I can both recite the lines.  Now, that's silly.  So, as I type this I'm watching the first Harry Potter with Farrah and when it's time for us to go to bed, we'll watch #2, #3, #4, and #5.  That's what we do.  Also, New Moon is coming out next week on DVD and I can hardly stand it!!!

Nerd.

That's Our Little Girl

Farrah has a little talent that she has had from the moment she arrived in our arms.  She belches like a man. Not just any man, but a Schmidt, Coors, or Miller man.  She doesn't burp.  No.  She doesn't pause, excuse herself, put her fist up to her mouth to block the air from escaping and blowing into your face, or keep her mouth closed so her cheeks fill up with her burp.  Uh uh.  She will be talking to us and in mid-sentence, a bellowing explosion passes her lips while telling us a story, and she simply continues and acts like nothing happened.  But it did, Farrah.  It did just happen.  I hope she doesn't think she can get away with that when she's in high school!  If she doesn't get a handle on her "gasses", life is gonna get a little awkward.  This is what could potentially be my daughter's future:

"So, tomorrow I have a geometry test that I BWWWWRRRRAAAAPPPPP haven't even studied for. 
I'm going to have to crunch if I want to pass it."

I'm not exaggerating.  She doesn't even laugh afterwards.  Usually, if something like that happens to someone, they're completely thrown off guard and dramatically apologize for being so "rude".  Luckily, I grew up around boys and my husband is still a boy, so I find this funny.  So, she doesn't laugh until she hears me laugh.  She doesn't realize how funny it is!  It's funny, because it's weird.  Who does that?  Who doesn't see that coming?  Or at least feel it coming?

Farrah, sweetheart, at least pretend to have some sort of shock on your face when this happens to you.  It's not a normal thing that people can just ignore.  Especially, your burps.  They are LOUD and LONG.  Impressive...yes.  Normal...not so much.

You're excused.

Geez-Lou-Eez

I cannot stand bad parenting.  There is no excuse for it.  I'm not saying I'm perfect at it, because I know that I'm not.  I am saying that, at times, I'm better than some.  Tonight was a great example of somebody's shitty parenting skills.  We have a new member at the gym who joined today with her 3 children, all daycare aged.  She had a baby boy (about 9 months old), a little girl (about 2 years), and an older son (age 5).  Here's where our story begins...

Shelbee was working in the Kid's Club tonight and asked me at what point she should get a parent when a child has been acting out the entire time, since dropped off.  Mind you, these children had been in the Kid's Club a whole 5 minutes when I was asked this question.  From the time they were dropped off, the 5 year old was tearing the place apart.  He was even doing it while the mother was there, signing her kids in.  He had already spent 90% of the time there in time-out.  When he was finally "released", he immediately went on a rampage while I was in the room.  He took toys from other kids, he threw things, he messed up other kids' drawings, and he wouldn't mind.  So, basically, he was awful.  (Keep in mind, I'm considered the Daycare Nazi.  I don't take shit from any kids.  They will respect my gym and my stuff or else!)

Then there's his baby brother.  I had noticed a car seat that looked like there was a bunch of "stuff" spilled on the straps and in the seat.  I looked at the baby and he had yellow crap all down the front of his clothes.  Shelbee had pointed out that he looked like that from the time he came in and she wasn't sure what was all over him.  Next thing we knew, we turned around and the yellow stuff on his shirt was now on the floor.  Gross.  I didn't know what we were dealing with; spit up, or puke.  While we gathered kids away from the little mess, we were planning on going to get the mother just to be on the safe side and so she could deal with her oldest.  (The middle child remained invisible the whole time - no drama there).  Suddenly, another pile of "stuff" that we deduced to being barf.  Nice.

So, Shelbee got the mom who slowly and casually came back to the Kid's Club.  We explained that we weren't sure what was wrong with her baby and she just slowly walked up to the baby and said, "Hmm, what's wrong?"  No biggie, but I started to think about all the CLEAR signs that were there BEFORE she brought her baby in...HE'S SICK, DUMMY!!!  While she strapped her baby into the barf coated car seat, I was dealing with her bratty son.  He was getting into the separated baby area and I told him to get out.  He was grabbing chalk and I had to follow him and take it from him to remind him that he lost his chalk privileges due to being disrespectful to the other kid's and their artwork.  He was pushing and shoving a little girl and I had to quickly run up to him and tell him hands off!  He then spilled another kid's goldfish on the floor and that's when I was done, because the whole time she just stood there doing nothing at all.  NOTHING!  So, I told him to get over by his mother and stay there and was not to leave her side.  He said no and started running around the room.  Finally, I walked up to her and said, "You need to do something about your kid!"

I was not even nice about it at all.  In fact, I shocked myself with how curt I was with her, because that just isn't my style.  But you want to know what shocked me even more?  She casually told her son, "Okay buddy, it's time to go. Get your shoes on."  He started throwing a fit and she had to wrestle with him.  At that point, I had to walk out.  I couldn't stand it for several reasons.
A.  Her son obviously receives no punishment...ever.
B.  He has no concept of authority or discipline.
C.  This mother brought her sick kid to a DAYCARE so she could selfishly get a workout in, no matter how sick her child was or if he was contagious to the other children (including my own).
D.  Her reaction to me disciplining her son and telling her to do something about it, was not what I would expect a parent to do.

If someone was disciplining Farrah and I was there, I would let them finish the punishment and I would take over from there.  Not rescuing her, but following through to correct her bad behavior.  If someone told me to do something about my kid's shitty behavior, I'd probably actually REACT.  First, it would never get to that point with Farrah because I have no problem dragging her into the bathroom and giving her a spanking or a firm scolding.  But if someone said that to me, I would be up in their face telling them "how it is".  I would react that way, because I KNOW I try very hard to make sure I'm not raising an asshole.  That is my sole mission in life:  Don't raise an asshole

That being said, she must have known I was right.  She needed to do something about her effing kid!  The neglect with those kids made me crazy mad, and mad enough to tell a complete stranger (in not so many words) they're doing a poor job.  While the 5 year old was making me crazy, it wasn't him so much as it was the idea that this woman brought a clearly sick, 9 month old baby into the gym around other children instead of keeping him home and "mothering" him.  This woman has a son who is old enough to know better and to have manners and show people respect, but he's never been shown how.  It was so sad and awful.

If you're overwhelmed because you have 3 kids and don't exactly know what you're doing, for God's sake, ask for some help!  Don't contribute to the millions of other parents who decided to give birth to a "friend" and let them walk all over you and every person they come in contact with.  You need to rock the boat that is so uncomfortable to rock.  That's the hardest part of being a parent.  Parenting.  But TRY, dammit!!!  It doesn't take a "village", moms and dads, it takes YOU.

Rescue 911

Tonight was a fascinating night.  After a delightful dinner, Mike thought it would be good to play with Farrah for a little bit before he had to return to work in his office.  It was a hilarious hide-and-seek adventure for the two of them and I was the spectator.  Mike always has special places to hide so that children NEVER find him.  If it were a sport allowed in the summer Olympics, he would be a Gold Medal contender.  He has managed to hide so well, that even I couldn't find him!

So, tonight, Farrah got to experience the professional hide-and-seeker at his absolute best!  I had Farrah wait in the bathroom while Mike hid.  When he was all settled in, she was on the move.  She looked and looked and Mike would yell, "FARRAH!!!" real loud and scare the crap out of her, making her scream at the top of her lungs, which of course, made me laugh my ass off.  This went on for a good 5 minutes (which is about an hour in toddler years) so Mike decided to come out.  But he didn't.

The hiding place in which Mike chose, has been his staple hiding spot since we bought the house 8 years ago.  It has never failed.  I've hidden in there once, and vowed never to do it again.  Mike's best hiding spot is our kitchen pantry.  It's about the size of a coat closet, but has shelves upon shelves of food, various grocery bags, and a big box of Farrah's play dough.  It's such a tight squeeze in there, I have seen the door bend from him breathing.  His body is always pushed right up against the racks and the door.

This is where the excitement came in.  The door didn't open.  Wouldn't open.  Couldn't open.  I thought for sure he was screwing around to make me panic, but no.  I kept thinking he was just being stupid and twisting the knob the same time as me so the door couldn't unlatch.  No.  The mother effin' door knob was broken.  BROKEN!!!  I have horrible claustrophobia, so I felt like I was going to have a panic attack for the both of us.  I watched as Mike pushed the door while bracing his body against the racks making room for some air.  I thought for sure, one more push and the door would've broken right off.

I asked if I could bust off the hinges and he told me to try and do it.  I ran to the garage and grabbed a hammer and a screw driver and ran back in.  The whole time this is going on, Farrah thought the game was continuing.  So she kept playing while I started banging away at the hinges.  Got the top one off, the middle one off, and then was stuck with the bottom one.  It took another 5+ minutes of banging the shit out of that hinge without breaking my thumb when it finally released.  We pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled.  I got up on a chair to see if there was something I could do with the top of the door.  When I was there, the door popped off and I grabbed it.  There, in the awful and muggy pantry squeezed in with the Raisin Bran and the Cheezits, was my dear husband looking at me with "are you effin' kidding me?" eyes.  We were both out of breath, him more than me.  The pantry was a mess, the door was a mess, the floor was a mess with greasy tools, and we thought, "what are the odds of this happening?"

The whole time this was going on, I asked a few times if he needed me to call 911.  I couldn't even imagine... only, I could.  Most of the people from the fire department are members at our gyms.  How embarrassing that would've been to have people that work out in our gym come to the rescue of my husband that was locked up in our kitchen pantry from an innocent game of hide-and-go-seek.  That game may be banned from our house now.  We had no idea how dangerous counting to 10 could be!

In General...

...people are funny.  I have been hooked, lately, on 5 websites that I like to check almost nightly.  They put a smile on my face and I often LOL (that's "laugh out loud", mom, since I know you're reading this).  They are all sites of people making fun of each other or themselves.  I love it!  Things are so serious in the world right now, let alone what we all deal with on a personal level at home or at work.  It's nice to see that people, in general, have a good sense of humor.  Here are the sites that I heart so much:

www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com

This one is rad, simply because they are photos of real people in real photos looking really awful.  We've all been there and had that family photo taken that you cringe when you walk by it, but our parents thought it would be a nice idea to go to "Penny's" and wear the same shirts and get our hair all done.  I will be contacting my parents to get copies of some of the professional portraits we had done to post on this site.  I could be FAMOUS with how amazingly awful some of the pictures are. Yeah, remember Glamour Shots? I did it, I wore the borrowed leather jacket, I held the collar up, I had big poofy hair, and yes, I looked like I was forty even though I was only 15.  Don't worry, I WILL be posting a picture of this soon.  In the meantime, here is a picture of someone else's family to give you an idea of how wonderful the website is.

Seriously, read his shirt.  She thinks his cocaine shirt is Hil-lar-i-ous.  What the what?!!!  

But who wouldn't choose that shirt to wear in a family photo?

Next site:

www.lamebook.com

These are little slices of heaven taken from the popular Facebook pages of complete strangers.  Why is it so funny?  Usually the irony in everything.  People are funny because they are dumb.  But the humor is usually coming from the friends of someone who has posted something ridiculous and everyone pokes fun.  It's very hard to explain if you are unfamiliar with how Facebook works, but I'll just say, my favorite parts are the ones where someone posts something profound, inspiring, or simply uplifting, then one of their jack ass friends points out their shitty grammar or spelling difficulties, completely taking away from what the "poster" was trying to convey to the masses.  Love that.

www.thisisphotobomb.com

Simple and to the point.  People ruin other people's photos by somehow sneaking in to the, otherwise, normal picture being taken.  Nuff said.

www.lovelylisting.com

This site isn't the best of the best, but it is a good one to go to.  They are actual real estate listings that people have felt the photos taken of these people's homes have been deemed "awesome" to be on this site.  And by "awesome" I mean AWESOME.  When visiting this site, you have to read the captions and comments.  But here are a few pictures from the site to give you an idea of the type of listings real estate agents are taking on and trying to sell the shit out of!

This one was titled "Haunted Barbie Mansion"

"Crime Scene House"

"Shag Bed"

And finally, I saved the best for last.  Thank you, Mike, for sharing this, as well as most of the above sites with me.  They make me laugh.  Hard.  

www.failblog.org

This is a site you have to go to, to fully experience its hilarity.  It's full of awesome.  In the meantime, I have attached a link to a clip that is WONDERFUL.  Be sure to look for the word "FAIL" on the pictures on the site and why that photo "failed".  Always funny.

http://failblog.org/2010/01/22/interruption-win/

Taco

We had dinner from Taco Time.  That's not the story, though.  The story is what I ordered and how I went about ordering it.

First, I ordered Mike's dinner.  Then I ordered mine:

"I'd like a Fish Taco."

"Okay, a Fish Taco."

"Yeah, but I want it with lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese."

"Okay, so a Fish Taco with lettuce and tomatoes."

"Did you hear that I wanted my Fish Taco with cheese?"

This is where I started to laugh.  I know the girl taking my order left out the part with "cheese" on purpose just to hear me say "Fish Taco with Cheese".  For God's sake, why wouldn't she???  I would totally have made the person repeat such a nasty thing.

Sounds to me like Taco Time isn't necessarily always "Good, Good, Fresh, Fresh."

I forgot to mention that I also ordered Sour Cream with it.  Does dinner get much dirtier than that?


P.S.  Totally unrelated side note.  Today, after dropping Farrah off at Jen's I was driving to work and noticed a GIANT bald eagle flying above my car with something fairly large (larger than a mouse and not quite a dog) in its claws.  It was kicking and fighting to free itself and clearly was unable.  Don't know if it was a cat or a rabbit (pretty sure it was a rabbit, though), but it was fascinating.  Then another bald eagle followed that one.  While it was sad for the creature on its way to meet its most definite death, I was in awe with nature.  I was raised to always pause in the presence of hawks, but mostly bald eagles.  There times my parents would pull over on the side of the road so that all of us kids in the car could see and appreciate the beauty of the big birds.  I loved that part of my childhood.  Back then, the bald eagle was an endangered species.  Now, they're protected and we're starting to see more and more.  I loved that moment today.


Not as much as the Fish Taco with cheese and sour cream.

Suity

Mike is getting ready to head out tomorrow morning for Vegas.  He's going there on business at the CES convention.  This is one of those trips where he knows he'll be meeting with "VIPs" and therefore, needs to be prepared.  So, this week we went and got him 2 new suits, new dress shoes, socks, and several dress shirts.  If you know my husband, then you know this is not something you would ever find in our closet.  When I met Mike, it was white t-shirts, blue jeans, and a baseball cap.  That was when his profession was strictly decks.  Then, his passion moved on to the gyms and the gym business and the fashion was sweatpants and colored t-shirts.  Now, with what he is working on, he needs to put his best foot forward and it must be wearing fancy shoes.  Mike had his suits taylored.  It was very necessary.  His pants were HUGE when he tried them on.  They had to be, in order to accommodate his massive legs (they're very muscly).  They had to practically rebuild the pants for him.  His jacket also had to have some work done on it.  He has a large back and broad shoulders.  Well, they finished the job quickly for Mike so he would have it in time for this convention.  And... he modeled the black suit with the black shirt and the black shoes.

Mmmmmm....
Yummy.

Just had to share the sexiness, which is my husband.  Smokin' hot.

Shit!  He's going there without me!!!

Well, I'm already excited for him to come back, wear his suit, and take me out to a dinner where I can match him in a nice dress.  Hint hint, Mr. Moody.

Am I Actually Watching This???

There's a show (that just happened to be on) that I'm watching and will be turning off shortly.  It's called, "Conveyor Belt of Love".  The coincidence is Farrah and I went to the Sushi Belt tonight for dinner!  However, this show is not that cool.  No.  Instead of delicious sushi treats, it's MEN on a conveyor belt.  They slowly wrap around the 5 women while they explain a lil' about themselves and why the women should hold up a sign that says, "interested".  Sometimes, they say, "Not Interested."  Mostly, it's "Not Interested".  This show makes me soooooo uncomfortable.  The dudes are dancing, singing, holding dogs as props, doing magic tricks, and simply acting like psychos.  Some of the guys are cute, but I'm pretty sure they're not interested in the girls, but instead, interested in the other guys.  I think it's funny when the girls pick the guys that clearly don't want to be with the girls.  So, I'm now going to turn it off so I can relax rather than feeling incredibly awkward for both the women and the men on the show.
Maybe this show should have a guy holding sushi!  That would be a great show.

There Goes Our Sex Life

Farrah's bed has not yet arrived, but it is on its way.  However, we do have her mattress.  So, we decided to give her a taste of what it will be like to be in a big girl bed, beginning Christmas Eve.  It was very successful.  That's because she didn't know what it meant, yet, to have the freedom of not being caged up in a crib.  But, she knows now.

"Mommy, I need to go potty."
"Mommy, I need to blow my nose."
"Hi Mommy."
"Hi Daddy. Mommy is Daddy sleeping?"
"I want to watch another movie."
"I need a hug and a kiss."
"It's over! The movie is over. Mom, it's over."

She has now discovered free will.  She just walks right on in our room and lets us know what's up, what she needs, what she feels she needs to tell us, whatever comes to mind.  She doesn't even have the courtesy to knock!  Rude.  I clearly need to teach my daughter some new manners.  One thing she hasn't quite picked up on yet, is when she is upstairs napping and we are downstairs watching TV or something, that she can actually walk down the stairs.  She just shouts from the top of the stairs at us, asking if she can be awake now.  "No."

Well, here we are at a new phase of our little girl's life.  I hate the idea of clicking the lock over on our bedroom door, but it might be necessary until she learns to knock.  I don't want her to have to tell a horror story to her friends as she grows up about when she walked in on her Mom and Dad one fateful night.  No thanks.

On another note, Christmas was wonderful.  She received a Dollhouse from Santa Claus along with dolls (from Great Grandma), chapstick, nail polish, candy canes, a little hockey set from Auntie Bre and Uncle Steve, Mr. Potato Head from Grandma Jan and Boppy Bobby, Cinderella Dress from Uncle Jeff, and so many more gifts to mention.  She had painted a ceramic cereal bowl for her Daddy with her hand prints on it, a tea cup/kettle set for Grandma Jan, a Beer Stein for Boppy Bobby, and something for Grandma Rita and Poppy Dan but I can't mention it because they haven't received it yet.  So, shhhhh.  Mike and I gave each other lovely gifts (digital photo frame and pearl ring for me - 928 photo, Bose Stereo, and custom money clips for Mike).  I received a Snuggie from Alex and Mike received the awesome new iMouse from Alex.  Very thoughtful.  Jeff and Steve were quite clever with their gifts for us.  Very fun and creative.  It was my first time making Christmas Dinner in my entire life:  Turkey, green bean casserole, candied yams, stuffing, rolls, and game sauce.  Too much for one person to do.  Now I understand the chaos of having so many of us in the kitchen during Thanksgiving and Xmas.  Hard work.  I attempted gravy and failed miserably.  Sorry.  Anyhoo, there's the most recent update.

Merry Christmas 2009...it was great!

Small Town, Watch OUT!!!

Today, was a prime example as to why you shouldn't be a douche bag out on the road; particularly if you are 1/2 a mile from my gym.  It started with me getting off the freeway and trying to merge over to the left, but everyone in the left was trying to get over to the right.  Well, the butthole behind me was trying to do the same, apparently.  However, he was unable to see that the reason I had come to a complete stop was because 3 cars ahead of me were also at a complete stop.  But, still, he insisted on honking and screaming at me to, "GOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" and wail around like a psycho.  Being the smart person that I am, I turned around and told him to  "eff yourself mother effer piece of shit, eff you!!!"  Didn't think it was family friendly to use the eff bomb but still keep it PG-13 with the word, "shit".  Of course, Farrah was very displeased with my poor choice of words, as was I.  But he was an ass!  So here, lies the problem.  Was he a gym member?  Does he frequent my place of business?  That could suck in so many ways.  This area is too small not to recognize one another.  Oh, and the best part is, my car is COMPLETELY decked out in Gold's Gym Marketing material.  Well, maybe he thinks I just love to work out and not that I'm there EVERY SINGLE DAY.  On the other hand, I could just as easily find him and cancel his membership or simply make a scene about his bad driving etiquette.

I'm probably the asshole in this, because he probably got some bad news earlier, and me stopping behind other stopped vehicles was more than he could stand.  So, sorry, angry douchey driver behind me today.

Fugly Sweater Day

Today, I picked out a pink sweater to wear to work.  It's a cute pink sweater with 3/4 sleeves and ribbed cotton.  Neat, huh?  If it were 1999.  It used to be flattering.  Mike even said it looked slimming on me, this morning.  Then, my day began at work.  I felt quite unattractive in it ALL DAY LONG.  That's a sign that the sweater must find its way to a clothing recycling bin.  I can't be tempted to put this thing on my body again.  It's almost as if I forget how bad it looks and can only remember how nice it looked on me in the 90s.  That image is engrained in my brain throughout my car drive to work, making me believe this was a good choice, later to discover it was not.

Take care, pink sweater.  I am breaking up with you.  You need to see other people and I need to see other sweaters.

Dear Mike

This blog is about you, Mike.  You have been slaving for days (really, for months) on the Fuzion Mobile program to get a little monster of a business off the ground and running.  We have several people who are putting a lot of time and energy into this, but you are who I see everyday, so it is you who I am writing about.
You work from home because you know how important it is to stay focused on your project.  And you really do!  The last few days, you have locked yourself in your office and virtually glued your ass to your office chair.  The only time you've moved is to just get a change of scenery by moving your computer to a different location in the house.  I am surprised your eyesight isn't completely failing from staring at a computer screen all day. You've written so much for the people to better understand what exactly Fuzion Mobile is all about, and when doing that, you've dissected all that you've written and rewritten it again!
I pointed out last night that you worked yourself to the point of blowing a massive blood vessel in your left eyeball.  That's like "Xtreme Working"!!!  You went without a shower for two days straight.  So, this morning I rubbed your furry head and kissed your prickly face with nothing but pride in my heart and sympathy for the sheer exhaustion I know you're experiencing.  Type, type, type, print, print, print, corrections, phone calls, web conferencing, deligating, and trying to sneak in a hug or two from your girls.
I've watched the sadness in your eyes because of the sacrafices you've had to make with your family.  But I know this is important and who you are doing this for.  She loves you so much, and who knew a 3 year old (tomorrow) would understand that daddy has work to do but it's all good?  She gets it!  And in the meantime she gets her wrestling matches with you and gets to jump off your back and cuddle up with you.  She LOVES that!  I love that!

And, then there's moments like tonight...
I watched you in a moment where you shined!  After the long nights, running on 6 hours of sleep (if that), and the blood, sweat, and tears; it all came together for this moment.  The constant pressure on you to get it done and the weight of the world on your shoulders if you didn't, and you still managed to be cool, calm, and collected throughout the whole thing.

I wanted to jump out of my seat and start clawing and screaming, because one of the investors was "busting your balls".  While he questioned you and your abilities I wanted to scream, "Because he is perfect for this job!!! Because he cares so much!!!  Because he wants everyone to be successful!!!  Because he doesn't want to nor intend to let anyone down!!!"  But, thank god for that little bit of Xanax I took right before the meeting.  I was a nervous shaking mess.  But I watched you do so well and so perfectly at something I know I would fall to pieces doing.  I nodded to Kelly that the man busting your balls, was going to be a part of what we're doing, because you had the right answers.  You weren't cocky about having all the answers, but understanding and caring about giving the man the answers he needed.  Kelly even whispered how "you were doing SO WELL."

I can't say enough, Mike, of how TRULY TRULY TRULY proud I am of you.  And I'm not saying it as your wife because I have to, but saying it as your friend, too, because it's true.  I got to see my husband in the role he was meant to have.  No experience running a multi-million dollar company?  You get to have it now, babe.

Here's The Bed

You wanted to see the bed...

Ta Dah!!!!

Farrah's new bed to arrive right before her third Birthday.

Hooray!!!

Another Milestone...

I know it's a little early to talk about Farrah's third birthday, but here I am writing about it a whole 8 days before the big day.  She is so excited.  I explained to her, "Sweetheart, when you start to see Xmas lights everywhere and you see Santa around, know it's almost your birthday!" "WOTTT?!!!"  She has learned how to hold up three fingers.  However, she knows better not to lie about her age.  She tells people, "I'm gonna be freeeee" (that's three in Farrah language).

So, other than the fact that my "Kitten" or "Face" or my sweet little baby girl is turning 3, she has moved on from another stage in her life.  Her present that her Mommy and Daddy got her today was her brand new "Big girl" bed.  Yes, my daughter has been in her beautiful crib these past 3 years of her life, which has turned out to be excellent for her.  Her crib is white, lacy, and round.  Very unique and very special. Her Daddy picked it out for her but also for me.  It was a surprise for me.  He let me in on the secret when he had been working on her room.  However, he gave me a sneak peak so that I wouldn't be upset with his choice.  I couldn't have been more happy.  He wanted nothing but the absolutely best of the best for his little girl, and so she got it.  Her crib held up so long and Farrah never became a "climber".  She always stayed in her bed.  She has done a little bit of damage over the years by chewing on it, kicking it, having a temper tantrum in it while jumping up and down, to the point now it wobbles with very little effort.  Sooooo, in effort to keep our child safe....a new bed it is!

I'm excited for her, but inside a little saddened.  She's growing up SO fast.  She has been going to pre-preschool with Gamma Jan and Boppy Poppy for the last couple of months.  She's drawing, doing puzzles, counting, and her vocabulary is growing more rapidly than ever expected (but I expected it).  So, being the little smarty pants that she is, she and I look online for new beds for her.  Anytime I turn on my laptop, she asks to look at beds.  She tells me the ones she likes and is sure to point out the ones that don't interest her at all, whatsoever.

She is getting a Cinderella Canopy bed.  It's simple, yet a little elegant and not too over the top.  But I loved growing up with a Canopy bed.  It didn't feel right that she should go from something so beautiful to something that wouldn't make her jaw drop.  It's a tubular steel bed formed to make wheels at each end and the top comes together so I can purchase a large piece of chauffon to hang elegantly.  Am I reinforcing the "princess" complex?  Probably, but not as much as I could in the next year or two.  THAT bed will be freaky cool.

So, she's graduated from the crib and will be into her new bed in a matter of days.  Again, this stings in my heart, but it also radiates me with pure joy and happiness that the look on her face will be that of complete amazement.  Because we paid attention and picked out the one she wanted.  I can't wait!

But...a small part of me can. : )

Happy third Birthday, Farrah Raquelle Moody

Um, I Don't Know

There are times that Mike and I don't keep an eye on every single thing she does.  However, we are good enough parents to at least take the time to shout out, "Farrah!!! What are you doing??!!"  Sometimes she responds with an accurate answer, explaining that she's watching a movie, playing with her ponies, or reading a book (yes, she reads now).  But! If she says, "Um...I don't know!" we know we are in trouble.  I've learned the hard way "I don't know" means she does know what she's doing and that it's not good whatever it is.  One time, that was her answer and I accepted it for what it was.  Just an answer.  She stopped whatever it was she was doing and came upstairs with me to get ready for bed.  Later, I went back downstairs to get something from the kitchen and discovered what her "I don't know" was.  It was her digging through a drawer and discovering a bag of spaghetti and dumping it on the floor.  Not in whole pieces, no!  She likes to make her messes just that much more fun for me to clean up.  She was sure to break the dried spaghetti into tiny little pieces.  Thanks.  Last night's "I don't know" was interesting.  She found the spoon and bowl full of water...in the bathroom.  Yes, it was the toilet brush and the toilet.  She put little pieces of toilet paper in the bowl and was busy stirring.  She took the brush out and put it back in over and over again being sure to cover the entire floor with the water.

"Um, I don't know" is never a good thing.

She knows.

She knows.

Look What I Found

So, out of curiosity, Mike and I were wondering what age you had to be to be considered a "cougar". I guessed somewhere after 40. But, since I wasn't sure, I decided to google, "what age to be a cougar" and after looking at a couple of sites, I found the attached link. 
http://www.dateacougar.com  
Ohhh emmmm geeeee (OMG). Effin' awesome stuff. The best part is the picture that accompanies the site...

Old Lady Garments

However...

I hope my body looks that great when I'm in my 50s.  But, I refuse to wear that.

Really..."What are you waiting for?"

Tough Decisions and Hard Choices

Well, it happened. The cookies, doughnuts, and late night snacking finally found a way to sneak up on me. I shouldn't have been surprised, however, had I just turned around. It was there the whole time...on my ass. I am the heaviest I've ever been since being pregnant. In fact, I have 15 more pounds to go to get to my peek pregnancy weight! Fanfuckintastic! So, I, just like everyone else, must reevaluate what food I'm putting in my mouth and force the workouts my body needs and wants. I don't feel completely great about myself. My belly sticks out like its got a baby bump, only it's Pepperidge Farm Golden Orchard Cookie Collection "bump". I also have a ba-donk-a-donk. Awesome. I also just bought some new jeans 3 weeks ago and they're tight. TIGHT!!! So, tomorrow, I'm switching my protein drink, going to my oatmeal breakfast, wonderful cottage cheese and fruit lunch, and hitting the treadmill hard. I'm so out of shape right now, it will take me a little while to get to the point where I used to be with how much I used to run on the treadmill. Maybe I'll have to take one of my Group X classes that I keep telling myself to take. In any case, I have to do something. And how convenient that a bunch of fat took it's claim on my 6 pack abs right before my favorite holiday. Thanksgiving. I will be there with everyone else, first thing in the morning, at the gym, working off as many calories I intend to take in. I know I can do this. I have to do this. My hair looks too rad right now to have it ruined with my new "curves".

Thank you, Mike

I want to submit a blog that publicly thanks my husband. Mike, I want to thank you for all that you are doing and all that you have done to make our family feel safe and secure. I particularly want to thank you for making me feel secure...in us. You have displayed such efforts to express your love for me and how much we are great together. I love that. I know you have gone out of your way to make me feel safe. I notice these things. You don't even have to point it out. I want you to know how much I appreciate it. I have strong faith in us and always have. I look forward to the future that I've always known would be. It all includes, love, joy, fun, and lots of laughter. We're already on our way...

I love you, Mike.

Farrah

Me: Farrah, I don't feel good, honey. I need you to help take care of Mommy. (sniff, cough, cough)

Farrah: No. You can take care of yourself. I don't want to.

So...this is the life in which I must prepare myself. I should expect by the age of 60, that my daughter will be putting me in an "old-people's" home although I'll be completely healthy and totally coherent. Mike will be wondering where the hell I am and my daughter will simply shrug her shoulders and roll her eyes. At least, she'll be a bit more compassionate in her older age and decide that clearly I can't take care of myself and therefore, will have the nursing staff do it for me. I will, of course, understand this decision of hers, because after all, she did tell me when she was two. I was forewarned.

On a nicer note, she does say to me all the time, "I love you soooooo much, mommy."

My next question should be, "So much that you won't have me put away?"