FAT Tuesday

I'm pretty sure a woman invented FAT Tuesday. And that is what I've done today: gotten fatter on this Tuesday. In preparation for the annual Dr. Pepper give up also know as Lent, I have been consuming mass quantities of the nectar of the gods. Nothing unusual about this behavior. But, two ladies I work with brought cake today; one of them brought a coconut cake and the other brought a king cake with cream cheese. And now I am miserable. And we have our 1st softball game tonight. And I skipped yoga.

Who's that fatty in left I see? It's me! It's me!

Hostesses with the Mostest

After a long drought, we finally had a girl's weekend in Jackson. And how better to kick off such a weekend than with a celebration for National Margarita Day! Those hilarious ladies met us at the door wearing the Rock Band guitars, headsets, arm bands, and standing in front of decorations. Upon entering we were met with even more decorations and hor d'oeuvres. It was so awesome. I can't believe I left my camera at home and was unable to capture the festiveness. Dang it.

There was one unexpected side effect of our time together, though. I realized in high definition certainty that I am...the CHEAP FRIEND. Not the fiscally responsible friend or even the tight friend, I am the CHEAP FRIEND. Not only am I the Chandler Bing of the group, but I'm the CHEAP FRIEND. Sigh.

A 2nd Helping of Weighty Thoughts

Last night I embarked on what was suppose to be a fun activity: digging through all Elliott's pictures in order to find 8 closeups that showed a range of emotions. I am going to scan them, make them sepiatone, and put them in 2 frames in my living room...that are already hanging on the wall picture-less. As I was ooh'ing and ahh'ing my way down memory lane, a terrible side effect emerged. I had to essentially watch myself gain weight over the last 8.5 years of marriage. Fun times. And yesterday was a baaaaaaaaad eating day. The kind of day where I try to see just how much sugar and sodium and other things I can consume. And yet...I still weighed the exact same thing this morning. You know, that exact same amount I've weighed for the past few weeks even though today is the 4 week mark of when I finally joined the Sanderson Center (cue choir of angels). You should see all the damn stickers on my calendar. But no, no weight loss. I mean, what am I doing this for? My health? Tee hee.

Kung Fu Folder

As you probably know, Elliott likes TV waaaaay too much. It's quite worrisome. I'm on Mission 1000 to get him to stop watching so much. I have moved his "activity basket" into the breakfast room and have asked Doug to try and coerce him into coloring, etc. when they get home in the afternoons and while Doug is cooking. I figure that would kill two birds at one time: less TV and more quality time with Daddy. But who am I kidding? He's been coloring all day; I wouldn't want to color when I got home. I would want to do what he wants to do: sit down and watch TV!

Well, last night I decided my laziness was too much and that the laundry -- dirty AND clean -- needed to be conquered. So I talked Elliott into coming in my room with me while I folded. And he, post shower and in his Kung Fu Panda pajamas, was most interested in helping. He got up on the bed, stood up (apparently when you are only 3 feet tall that is the optimal position for folding), and helped me fold clothes for close to an hour. It was so freaking cute. Almost too cute to write in this blog ;)

Hate Mail

Dear Barbie,

I curse the stigma you have left on this world. Your perfect yet impossible body standards have left me scarred with the rejection of continually missing the mark. The fact that my feet are not permanently on toe to accommodate heels, that my waist is not 2" and my bust 32", that my hair is not blonde, I curse it all. You sit there in your Dream House, looking down upon me with your smug plastic face only to then drive away in your pink Corvette convertible, laughing maniacally. Later, you and Ken will be in your hot tub, he with his flesh-colored undies, pretending to sip your champagne and reveling in your superiority. I envy the fact that your man has plastic hair, thus you will never know the pain of having to deal with his bad haircut choices. You led me astray when you paraded around as Business Woman Barbie. Ha! I was not cut out for the corporate world and you knew that! But I will take my revenge in these facts:

• Skipper will forever be a teenager. Have fun with all that drama for infinity!
  
  
• The twins, they are never growing out of those diapers. The amount of poop in your life is 1,000,000-fold what mine has been.
  
  
• I once married you off to a Russian. Those scars are permanent.
  

I'm thinking I'm going to need a sleeping pill prescription ASAP.

I Wanna Be, I Wanna Be Like Jane...Fonda, That Is

So I began a new exercise campaign on Thursday, Jan. 22. I say this like it's a date worth remembering down through history. I hope it will be. It will be known as The Day Emily Decided To Get Off Her Fat Ass And Do Something About It Day, sponsored by Elizabeth. So spinning and yoga and softball have been attempted during this 3.5 week period. So far, no weight loss. Cue really bitchy look. Though I haven't been measuring, I cannot see with the naked eye any loss of inches. Cue continued bitchy look. But I have many motivational mentors urging me on. Oh, and really cute glittery smiley face stickers noting my progress on my work calendar...kudos to Sara for that idea.

So we're at spinning today -- during lunch no less -- and I realized that I have taken the 3 standard spinning hand positions and modified them into Emily's spinning hand positions:

• Hand Position 1.5: Who needs good posture? Lean over and gasp for air.
  
  
• Hand Position 2.5: Splay fingers out in an effort to distribute weight into every possible body part other than legs while standing.
  
  
• Hand Position 2.75: While in hand position 2.5, continue to grasp handles like your life depends on it in an attempt to not sit your fat ass back down and look like a loser.
  
  
• Hand Position 3.5: Take hands to center so that not only are elbows resting but you can shift a huge amount of weight while in squat position.
  
  
• Hand Position 4: Take both middle fingers, raise them high into the air, and flip off devil instructor. I haven't yet tried this one, but I feel it's coming soon.

Oh, and due to the lunchtime spinning, I am no longer a Sanderson Center shower virgin. I have begun a really long list of needed items in order to come back to work not gross. But don't feel bad for me, fellow readers. There was a scrumptious Lean Pocket and sugar free pudding awaiting me when I returned. With water. Cry for me.

VDay Daycare Party

Man, Erica is right. He does have rhythm!

Valentine Assembly Line

Last night we sat down for the second year to work on Valentines. Last year I made the mistake of waiting until the day before to buy them, and there were very few choices. This year E and his daddy went early in order to get some good ones. E selected Cars valentines that came with pencils. I was delighted b/c you get to give the kids something without it being CANDY! They get enough candy at each party to give a small horse a sugar high. But I digress.

So last night we had quite the assembly line going, which went like this:

• I would ask E, "Which card would you like to give (INSERT CHILD'S NAME HERE)?"
• After he chose, I would write on the card, saying everything out loud so he would know what I was writing.
• I would pass the card to him and he would add his special message via crayons.
• He would pass to Doug each time saying, "Heeeere you go!"
• Doug would insert the pencil and place the card into the bag.

It was the cutest operation. Though it only took 10 minutes, it was one of those priceless times together. And he was so proud of them he had to carry them in himself this morning. And he didn't want to leave them in his cubbie; he wanted to take them to breakfast. I finally convinced him to leave them on the table in the classroom when he saw other ones already there.

As I was leaving, the blankety-blank balloons had begun arriving. I abhor the idea of sending balloons to daycare. But that is a story for another day.

Potty Preaching

Ok, so we are celebrating the immense progress E has made potty training. He is only wearing a pullup at bedtime and often waking up dry. He tells us when he has to go and the only time he is giving us any trouble about it is when he wants to wear a specific pair of underwear that is dirty ;) (usually Optimus Prime).

So for all those who have the daunting task of potty training before them, here is some unsolicited advice: WAIT UNTIL THE CHILD IS READY. That research about readiness is not bullshit. It is good stuff. Once ready, it pretty much just snaps into place. Stop worrying that your child is the last in his class --yep, he was. Respect the teachers, but do not let them push if you do not think your child is ready. When all of you think he is ready, then be exceptionally thankful if you get good teachers like E's who were very vigilant with him. They made a huge contribution to this process.

For those of you who were kind enough to pray for potty, could you just as kindly shift those prayers to our bedtime issues? The toddller bed is less than desirable to the little man.

Love is...

...prying a tootsie roll out of E's teeth with my finger because he asked nicely.

...a husband who cooks supper and does the dishes.

...playing best out of 3 in Paper/Rock/Scissors to see who has to change the litterbox, and then after declaring victory being told he already did it.

...sitting three deep on the couch, watching the same cartoons over and over again.

One Is Not the Loneliest Number!

I stumbled upon a hilarious t-shirt today from Cafe Press that I'm pondering ordering for E: http://t-shirts.cafepress.com/item/only-child-toddler-tee/25835883

I know you all know this because you know me (darn, when will this blog reached the level of extreme popularity that I desire so that perfect strangers are reading it? but I digress): I come from a large family. I am the middle child (I KNOW, I KNOW, explains a lot) of two brothers. My dad is the 2nd of 4. His dad was the baby of 8. My mom is the 4th of 8. Her dad is the oldest of 10. Her mom is the oldest of 5. Get it? Big family. Exceptions: My paternal grandmother was an only child; Doug is an only child. And one of my bestest friends is an only child (and her husband). And that has always seemed the most foreign concept to me, no offense to them (and I don't think they'd take offense seeing as how they were very quick to give their son a sibling). In fact, I have spent some mental energy wondering about people's motives for only having one child. Trust me when I say that for someone with 27 first cousins, this is a peculiar phenomenon.

UNTIL NOW. There are days when I think how foreign it would be (not to mention exhausting) to add another person to our family. But I'm sure in the end the thought of him growing up without a sibling will change my mind. That or God will have to strong arm me into a decision.

Bedtime Has Become a Three Ring Circus

In the first ring: The Tiny Terror Manipulator, who once asleep dreams and talks and kicks

In the second ring: The Most Annoying Cough-er in the World

In the third ring: An Obese Eight-Year-Old Cat, who thinks my foot space is her designated area

And me? I am the tight-rope walker, walking a thin line of sanity. I might beat them all with my balance pole.