Breaking up is hard to do

Dear Blogger,

I'm breaking up with you. We had a good run, you and me. You have been a good first blog, but I've grown, I've changed, I want more. It's not you, Blogger, it's me. I've met another service. One that is better looking and easier to use. Also, and I'm sorry to mention this publicly, but this new blog service is always up when I want it. There is nothing more frustrating than to be ready to blog and you're not "available". I will remember the good times we had Blogger, but I have moved on.

Love always,
Jamie

Five nicknames I have for Alex (and why)

1) Butters - it started out with me calling him Peanut, then Peanut Butter, then Butter Ball and Buttery Bear and now... Butters

2) Ally - or Ally Bear, Ally Butt or Ally B'Gally

3) Sugar Pie - or Sugar Lips or Sugar Pot

4) Monkey - the kid is a monkey. He loves to swing around by his arms or hang upside down, he can use his feet just as well as his hands. I also call him "Monkey Butt" when he has diaper rash.

5) The Boy - because, well, he's a boy.

The things I do because I love him

I’m still trying to redeem myself with John after having been so bitchy. John, being the sweetest husband alive, has already forgotten that I was bitchy and hasn’t asked even once for me to make it up to him. But my conscience keeps telling me that I was mean, so I have to be extra-special nice to him.

Yesterday I think I may have redeemed myself for any wrongdoings I’ve ever done in my life. I participated in an activity that I feel is wrong on so many levels. I put aside my squeamishness and did something with John that he’d always fantasized about. I still feel a little dirty.

I watched Deal or No Deal.

The Season Finale.

With…

Wait for it…

Special guest Celine Dion.

Oh, the humanity!!

I don’t think I can adequately express my hatred toward the game show Deal or No Deal. I hate it. Oh, I hate it bad. It makes me feel all angry and prickly inside. I end up yelling obscenities at the TV the entire time.

When a contestant is hemming and hawing about how tough it is, and they don’t know what case to pick, “maybe 17, or 3, oh, what to do, what to do!” I scream:
“JUST PICK A DAMN CASE, IT’S RANDOM! PICK A CASE, IT DOESN’T MATTER!”

When Howie Mandel is about to have the busty blonde open up the case after all the buildup of what case to pick and he says “Ok Candy, open the case…when we come back!” and points at the camera, I scream:
“HOWIE, YOU BASTARD, YOU RAT BASTARD!”

When the banker calls Howie, and he actually acts like he’s having a conversation about an offer, I scream:
“HE’S JUST TELLING HOWIE HOW GOOD HIS MOTHER WAS IN BED LAST NIGHT”

But last night I wanted to make my husband happy. Last night I offered to watch Deal or No Deal with him with minimal screaming, fully knowing that it was the season finale and Howie-no-hair-but-the-fluff-under-his-bottom-lip Mandel would stretch it as far as it could go and try to create some sort of suspense each time the show would break for Viagra ads. I knew they’d pick a contestant that would be annoyingly perky and indecisive about her case picking. What I did not know was that they’d pick Casey the perky school counselor who’d given the entire studio pink “Team Casey” towels to hold up. What I didn't know was that Casey's husband was so excited about his wife being on this stupid game show that he was in constant convulsions and all he could say was "I love you Casey" while looking like he was about to pee his pants. What I didn’t know was that they’d pick Casey, who despite her cute shoes, is a huge Celine Dion fan. I didn’t know that Howie would, on at least 3 occasions, ask Casey to serenade the banker with crappy Celine Dion songs a cappella. I did not know that they’d actually have Celine Dion participate in the show via satellite from her Las Vegas show.

By the end of the show I was exhausted from holding in all the snarky comments I could have been screaming at the TV. But it was worth it, John was happy, smiling and satisfied and really looked like he could use a cigarette. Sometimes, you just gotta take one for the team.

Project Hot Mom – Week 3

So, the exercising thing is going quite well. The first week I went to Curves four times, last week I went three times and I fully intend to go four times this week. I’ve already gone twice already. I’m also still taking Alex on walks at least 3 times a week. Unfortunately, I’ve had cut out my afternoon walks at work because it’s just too hot, and I come back into the building drenched in sweat like I’ve been out pig wrestling or something.

Going to Curves is pretty much as cheesy as you’d think it would be. Chubby middle aged women with no rhythm in their matching velour sweatsuits pumping their arms as they march in place “feeling the burn”. Sometimes they’ll do special little moves, like a step kick while waving their arms around crazily. Some will do the twist. If you’re really lucky, someone will use the hula hoop in the center of the circuit. That’s always fun to watch. Admittedly, I hated it the first week. The workout is a good one, and more often than not I wake up the next day with sore muscles. But I couldn’t seem to shake the “I don’t belong here” feeling. The next week was better, I even started to see some people my age. This week I’m actually enjoying it, and I caught myself doing little dance moves on the “running in place” pad.

I haven’t been doing so well on the food front however. Yesterday was the first day I was actually successful in eating only “allowed” foods. Of course I tried to cheat. I tried to sneak a bag of peanut M&M’s into our cart at Costco, but John found it and made me take it back to the candy aisle. On my way to return the offending bag, I passed a table piled high with chocolate doughnuts. I almost cried.

I’ve weighed myself both at home and at Curves this week, but I’m not sure of my progress. My home scale says I’ve lost 6 pounds, the Curves scale says I’ve gained 1 pound. I’m inclined to believe the Curves scale because I expected to gain a little after starting a resistance training program because of the whole “muscle weighs more than fat” rule.

666

All you hexakosioihexehontahexaphobics had better take a sick day today.

Debitchification

I am so looking forward to Saturday. I've been a stress ball lately. Work stress, Mommy stress, Wife stress... For the last few weeks or so I've felt like I've been slowly crushed by 1000 pounds of responsibility and obligation and haven't enjoyed much of anything about my life. Which really sucks because I've got a pretty awesome life with lots to enjoy.

This week my stress has come to a head and I've reacted to it by becoming incredibly bitchy. Especailly to John, who remains the epitome of a loving and caring husband, even as I bitch at him. Last night I bitched at him about the state of our storage room (overflowing with crap) and this morning I bitched at him for not offering to pick the baby up from my mom's so that we can make it to the baseball game on time tonight. I'm not mad at John. Not at all. It's just that he's the only person who I can safely bitch at. So, the poor guy takes the brunt of my stress-bitching, and bless his heart, never bitches back.

But, I've got a plan. I'm going to spend Saturday afternoon debitching at a day spa. I've made a deposit on a 3 1/2 hour debitchification package that is guaranteed to debitchify my body and mind. I shall emerge from this debitch process a new woman, completely unbitched and happy.

At 11:00 I will begin the process with a 50 minute Swedebitch Massage. This traditional massage is perfect for relieving tension, calming the mind, soothing aching muscles, and improving flexibility while creating a profound sense of relaxation.

At 12:00 I will enjoy a 90 minute Spa Pedicure. This refreshing pedicure includes a tea tree debitch soak, callus bitch smoothing, nail shaping, exbitchiating sugar scrub, and heated foot mask. The treatment is followed with a soothing foot massage, skin softening paraffin dip, and polish.

And finally at 1:30 I will be treated to a relaxing, stress-relieving scalp massage with essential oils, stylists will create a look designed to fit my face shape, maintenance needs and new un-bitchy personality.

Five useful things John brought with him when we moved in together

1) A bath mat
2) A clothes hamper
3) A dry erase board
4) One frying pan
5) Several boxes of Listerine

Batter Up!

John came into the bedroom last night carrying a bunch of rubber squares he bought as part of a little kid's baseball set.

"You see, here's First Base, Second Base, Third Base and Home Plate. So, you can tell me what you're feeling like doing just by putting one of these on the bed at night"

After some clarification on what each base represented, I only knew what first base and home run were, John went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and I was left with the little stack of rubber squares in the bedroom. I decided on second base and I left it on his pillow. As I was waiting for him to come to bed, I thought how this kind of takes the spontaneity out of fooling around. Part of the fun is not knowing where it's going to go, but wouldn't you know it, he ended up stealing third anyway.

Wild Animal

Five things I hated in junior high school

1) Having absolutely no idea how to play basketball in gym class
2) Playing clarinet (badly) in the school band
3) Assemblies featuring Christian rock bands
4) The fact that G.G. STILL didn't like me even though I'd had a crush on him since the 2nd grade
5) The 45 minutes it took me each morning to rat and hairspray my bangs so they stood straight up like a curly wall of hair on the front of my head.