Really Cool Scrabble Contest

Check out her blog! She's giving away a Scrabble game!

http://christiejarvis.blogspot.com/2009/02/speaking-of-spelling-scrabble-contest.html

Not Even a Freakin' Ounce!

Due to my serious disdain for flab, I recently embarked on yet another weight loss journey. I joined weightwatchers.com because everyone I know that has ever done Weight Watchers says it is fabulous. Considering the cost of food from Jenny Craig, I figured it was definitely the least costly method. Besides, I get to eat regular food -- right???

Well, after an entire week of bean sprouts and hummus, I weighed in only to find that I'd lost NOTHING!! ...NOT ONE FREAKIN' OUNCE! How is that even possible? Do I have that much fat storage that my body never noticed the reduction in calories???? Are my fat cells retarded? Hell-O? If I'm not mistaken, fewer calories and exercise are the only sure ways to lose weight without surgery. What the heck happened here? Am I some kind of freak of nature?

I always joked about it, but maybe I am one of those people that gain weight from the mere SIGHT of chocolate cake! It's quite possible that chips do go straight to my thighs. And maybe my gut gets bigger every time it grumbles from hunger. That's what I get for talking about fat chicks in college. I would sooo find it funny if it were someone else's butt!

I guess I should look on the bright side. Luckily for me, I'm pretty darn stubborn (I knew that would work in my favor one day). I am determined not to let that scale of mine win! Instead of falling off the wagon, I'm more determined than ever. This week I'm cutting out the bean sprouts and working out every day! I wonder if I could live on water for a week?

St. Valentine's Day Nightmare and Rude People

I was sooo wanting to post something upbeat and positive for Valentine's Day -- especially after my rant about irresponsible teenagers. However, I'm sorry to report that I have nothing heart-warming to post. Instead, this post is all about the horrors of my Valentine's Day.

After a long, sleepless night on Friday, I took my kids to the doctor Saturday morning and learned they had strep! Eli has strep butt and a sinus infection. Strep butt was new to me, but it's apparently not uncommon. Eli's complaints of an itchy butt were not just due to his inability to wipe properly. He was probably exposed at school or daycare, and then scratched his butt. Great... I fight with him on a daily basis about handwashing. He always forgets to do it. Too bad "I told you so" doesn't really help the situation. Luckily, Georgia just has strep throat and an ear infection. They are both on mega doses of penicillin for the next 10 days.

This brings me to rude people... On the way to the doctor, Georgia puked all over the place. I stopped carrying extra clothes for them which I now regret. I cleaned her as best I could, but I had to roll the windows down and turn the heat up for the rest of the trip. After seeing the doctor, I decided to drop off the prescriptions and get Georgia some clean clothes at Target.

When we got into Target, I noticed she looked lethargic. I thought it was just from lack of sleep so I let her lay down in the cart. Nope! She was sick, and puked all over Target. I'm standing in the middle of the toddler clothing section with a puking baby, and NO ONE offered to help! There were people walking around, shopping, and staring. Not a single person expressed concern or offered a hand or anything.

So there I am holding my puking daughter and chasing my son who apparently got a 2nd wind and was running around the store. I was so pissed, and went looking for a Target employee only to discover that there was none to be found. I finally carried Georgia to the front of the store and told a cashier about the clean up on aisle 12. Luckily, Eli followed me as I was unable to keep up with him at this point.

Thank God no one tried to snatch him. He would've probably been carried out of the store kicking and screaming while the shoppers enjoyed free samples of the latest fat-free, calorie-free ice cream. Seriously, when did people get to be uncaring?? I think I even asked for help, but got no response. I just cannot imagine seeing a poor mom with a puking child and not, at the very least, offer a tissue or a wipe! It really makes me pessimistic about the future of humanity.

The Slacker Generation and Their Overly Involved Parents

I've been feeling out of sorts lately. Let's just say that this week I'd say I've been a bitch on wheels. I don't want to be, but I'm just easily irritated. The end of the school year is getting closer, and my students are insane. Even crazier are some of the parents!

Economics is a required class. If you don't pass, you don't graduate. It's that simple. Every student who walks through my door on day one knows that. In addition, I remind them on a regular basis. So why is it that I've just had to assign 23 students to tutoring for a failing grade at the progress reports??? Seriously, do they really want to work at KFC/Taco Bell for the rest of their lives? I just don't get it.

I wish it did not affect me, but it does. It always makes me feel like a failure as a teacher when I have so many with bad grades. BUT I can't do the work for them!

A failing grade in my class does not mean that you were unable to perform a labotomy, therefore, will not be allowed to practice medicine. No! Instead it means that you were too lazy to READ the book, COPY some vocabulary words from the overhead or the textbook, and PARTICIPATE in a couple of class discussions/activities. Oh, I almost forgot WRITE a small essay or paragraph stating your position. There's no right or wrong answer; you merely B.S. your way through an issue. INSANE, right?

While that is frustrating in itself, that frustration is further compounded by the parents in charge of these kids! When trying to discuss the student's lack of participation and motivation, I get this soap opera about how the child has suffered since birth. His brother was mean to him, his first grade teacher hated him, he has ADHD, he has narcolepsy, blah, blah, blah... It makes me nuts! I want to pull a Judge Judy on them, and say, "Get your head out of your ass and wake up! Your kid has been playing you since birth, and will continue to suck you dry until he's 50 if you don't make him take responsibility for his own life!"

I have a friend in HR who was recently talking about this very phenomena. She indicated that she's actually had parents call wanting to set up meetings regarding their children's latest performance reviews...AT WORK! Are you kidding me?? Could you just imagine that meeting? Son to boss: "Huh, sir? My mom wants to know why I only got a 2% raise. Do you have time this afternoon for a conference call?"

One thing is for certain... Teaching has given me a whole new perspective on parenting. I've already forewarned my coworkers. If they ever notice me exhibiting any of the aforementioned signs of "helicopter parenting," they are to choke me down on the spot and call Judge Judy for an intervention.

The Freakin' Pressure Is On!!!

I've been experiencing severe panic attacks lately because my class reunion is coming up. Before I explain, let me say, "OMG!" I've been out of high school for nearly 25 years! I can still remember what I wore to graduation as well as what I did that night. It feels like yesterday that I was partying at the Fiesta! But I digress...

The optimist in me keeps saying, "Wow, I'm so excited! I can't wait to see everyone!" However the pessimist in me, and usually the winner of my inner conflicts, is freaking out. I don't know how I will face them all looking like I do! I look like a big blob of jiggly flesh and fat! My baby girl is three today, and I still look like I'm pregnant with her!

I know it sounds so vain and superficial. I am extremely happy and feel blessed to have my health, a great life, a great career, an awesome husband, and two amazing kids. I feel like an idiot for even being so selfish. My God... Only Demi Moore can have it ALL! But I can't help it. I'm in a rut!

What compounds my fears is how fabulous my high school friends look. I recently came in contact with many of them on Facebook. It's awesome to see them and actually hear about what's up with them. (I don't care if Al Gore invented it or not; the internet is the greatest invention of the 20th century!) But it makes me sick to see how great they look. Honestly, some of them look BETTER than they did in high school. Is everyone getting plastic surgery but me??

Any way, I'm kinda feeling like that pathetic person who acts irrationally when feeling pressure. As psychotic as it sounds, I'm actually considering the bulimia/laxative diet that worked so well in college. Isn't that insane? Instead of setting some realistic nutrition and fitness goals, I'm leaning towards the binge-and-purge approach.

Someone talk me down from the ledge, please! Damn, I need a shot of Tequila.

I've Discovered a New Phenomena

Okay, so I was a bit nostalgic yesterday. While planning Georgia's birthday party, I got to thinking about the "good old days" where birthday parties required little more than a home-made cake with no candles (for some reason, my mom never had candles) and hot dogs on the grill -- just family hanging out. A warm and fuzzy picture, right?

Well, today I noticed an even warmer and fuzzier phenomena. Something I never had, but I'm glad my children do. Something I'm sure even most of my friends never had -- an involved daddy. At my daughter's party today, there were just as many dads there playing with their children in the backyard. It was so cute watching the kids play soccer and climb on the jungle gym with their daddies. They looked like the subjects of a Norman Rockwell painting. It was great, and it made me happy for my children.

While they may miss out on the closeness of a big extended family, they will never miss out on time with their dad. Even though my birthday parties and dance recitals were full of my big extended family, my dad was often absent. I don't exactly know why; he just wasn't there. At times it was because he didn't want to spend the afternoon with "so and so." Other excuses included, "you know how your dad is" and "he has to watch the ballgame." I didn't really miss him at the time, but our relationship definitely suffered. It wasn't until my sister passed away that I was able to sit in the same room with him. I'll save the rest for therapy, but just know that I'm glad my kids will find a loving father the "norm" and not just something they experience after a tragedy.

Don't get me wrong, my husband is not Superdad. In fact, the phenomena is not my husband but the paradigm shift that's occurred with parenting in this era. Most of the kids at the party have extremely involved fathers. One little boy was with his dad only, and another was with both parents but preferred playing with his dad. The great part about it was that it was natural. They didn't play like it was the first time they'd been alone with daddy because it wasn't. When it occurred to me, I got a lump in my throat. They are so lucky!

Who Is This Person???

Do you ever look at the person you've become and wonder, "How in the world did I get here??"

I am home today because my baby girl's birthday party is tomorrow. I stayed home to get my house in order and get things "ready" for the party. This year's party has a TinkerBell theme. Now you'd think, what's the big deal? It's just a 3 year old's birthday party. Get a cake, some ice cream, a few balloons and party hats, and your set. Right??? Oh, NO!

Instead, birthday parties at my house have become full-blown celebrations that require months of planning and preparation. The invitations have to be just right. There must be enough food to feed 400 people. The "setting" has to be perfect so that my house is transformed into a magical place for fairies and pirates. Lastly, you can't forget the favors that cost nearly as much as the celebrity gift bags given to presenters at the Academy Awards ceremony.

When I was child, birthday parties were backyard barbeques with cake and ice cream. The kids ran around the yard while the parents camped out in lawn chairs with coolers full of beer. If it was really hot outside, someone might pull the slip-n-slide out. Some guests brought gifts, but quite a few brought pjs or toys still in the Wal-Mart sack. There were even the few that actually "forgot" to bring a gift altogether and would pull a $5 out of their wallets.

I have fond memories of those parties. I couldn't even name one single birthday party "theme." Nor do I remember a single birthday gift. But I do remember those parties! It wasn't about all the hoopla; it was more about family getting together. Ya see, I am from a very large extended family so I was related to most of the party guests. They were aunts, uncles, cousins, great-aunts, grandmothers, friends and neighbors (they were considered "family" back in the day), etc. -- all the people I loved and who loved me in one place for one afternoon.

So why do I do what I do for my children's parties?? I ask myself this every birthday "season." Maybe because my children don't have a large extended family? Or maybe because the family they have doesn't live close by? Could it be that I had my children so late that the aunts and uncles and friends are too old to party in the backyard? It makes me sad to realize that my kids will not really understand what it is like to come from a close-knit family.

The best friends I had growing up were my cousins. We ran in a pack and were thick as thieves. My kids see one cousin about 3-4 times a year, and never see the others. They do see their Aunt Donna weekly, and they absolutely LOVE spending time with her.

Anyway I look at it, my kids are missing out. I guess the lavish birthday parties are my attempts at "cheering" them (or me) up. They probably don't even realize that they are missing out on such wonderful relationships. But I know... I hope they will at least have fond memories of their parties and the love their mama poured into making those days perfect.