That 'four letter word'

Good evening, readers. . .

Have you looked outside your door yet?  Has 'it' started?

With the temperatures dipping dangeroulsy low tonight, it's safe to assume we Mainers are going to see some of that...you know...stuff.  I can't bring myself to say it - that bitter, cold, white, terrible four-letter-word. . .

*S-N-O-W*

There!  I said it! You happy!?!?  The censors will not be happy about this.

Knowing that the frosty temperatures linger outside my door on the regular now makes me reminisce about the very short time we spent in Florida.  It was a week of humid, hot, miserable heat.  But I didn't exactly hate it.  (I sort of...a little bit...enjoyed it).  Truth be told, I'd rather die of heat stroke over frost bite if given the choice.  And the kids have done nothing but talk about Florida since we left. 

Oh - those palm trees keep calling to me. . .
Amber, Amber, come back.  We miss you.  We can't stop thinking about you. . .
A girl can dream, can't she?

Well, I hope you are all prepared for the holiday season that is approaching.  I've been trying to scoop up some of the rare overtime hours that my job is offering so I can get my kiddos a couple of the prezzies they've really been wanting.  On top of that, we're trying to keep the oil tank sufficiently filled (damn heating bill!  I wouldn't have that if I was in FLORIDA!)  Or even Arizona. . .then it's only dry heat.  I'd take that.  I'd take that like a turkey takes stuffing on Thanksgiving.  But I digress.  Of course, moving takes money.  An ample supply of money.  Money I don't really have.  But oh!  If I had a million dollars.

If I had a million dollars. . .
. . .I'd be rich.

What? It's only been like six months! Okay...almost seven.

Happy Sunday, Readers!

Well, Halloween is behind us.  Thanks, kids for the candy jackpot! My hips will thank you more, I'm sure.  With Thanksgiving and Christmas on the horizon, it only seems fitting to jot down a list of things I am thankful for.  I will not neglect the little things either.

• I am thankful that there is more toilet paper in the house today.  It was difficult making that one dwindling roll a traveling commodity between the two bathrooms for those two days.

• I am thankful for 10 holiday seasons with the love of my life.  We have been through a lot, as most couples have, but we have endured and survived a lot that some couples don't pull out of.  He knows how to push my buttons, but he also knows how to make me laugh, and a day does not pass in this household without laughter.  That is immeasurable.

• I am thankful for the two little girls that we have been blessed with.  They are both smart as whips, blessed with boundless beauty and they both have unique senses of humor to boot.  They make every day worth waking up for.  Sure, they test patience like any child will, but at the end of the day, I wouldn't change a single thing about them.

• I am thankful for my family. My brothers, my sisters, my extended family - I love you.  My in-laws who are a constant beacon in our lives who are always there for us - I love you beyond measure.  For the sister I had growing up who I lost touch with for a while but then we came back together.  The time we spend together is priceless and precious to me.  I absolutely adore you and love you with all my heart.  (I can't wait to find out what baby #4 is!) <3

• I am thankful for my job.  Sure, it's not glamorous.  Sure, I don't make the 'big bucks'.  But there are people out there who do not have jobs who desperately need one, and I do not take the paycheck for granted.  And in all honesty, I like what I do.  I guess I can't complain too much.  Someday I will make it to where I want to go, but for now, I will take what I've got.

• I am thankful for my friends.  Every single one of you is in my life for a reason, and there are a select few who have been there for a long time.  They never left when things got difficult.  They took my side, even when I was wrong.  They are my 'sisters'.  Then there are the friends I've met along the way - college, work, etc.  I have become extremely close with some of these people and they make every day at work far more enjoyable.  I can honestly say I laugh every day at work - even on the bad days.

• I am thankful for the home that my husband and I built with our own two hands.  The same home that sometimes causes me strife and stresses me out shelters us and our family and is something we all gravitate to at the end of every day.  It's where we wake up in the mornings and fall asleep at night.  It's where we snuggle and argue and laugh.  It was built with four walls, three words, two hearts and one love.  <3

• I am thankful for Swiffer dust wipes, bleach, Tide and trashbags - you have all proven very useful this weekend.

I ask that you take a moment to think about those things that really matter to you.  Even if you don't voice them, acknowledge them in your mind.  Count your blessings!  (:

Until next time. . .

Power Struggle

It's been a while, huh?  Did ya'll think I forgot to write?   ;)

I think that I'm going to take a slightly serious turn on today's blog.  There's something I want to talk about, and I think that it's something we all deal with in one way or another.

Power.  Or powerlessness? 

I'm one of those people who (admittedly) needs to have control over things.  That's my personality.  I'm a Virgo, and damn it, we hate it when we feel like we do not have a handle on our worlds.  Lately I've been feeling powerless in a number of ways.  I'm a nurturer by nature.  When something is broken, I want to fix it.  I guess that sort of explains some of the sour relationships I've had in the past.  Before my husband, I tended to date people who were 'broken' in one way or another, and I was always trying to fix them.  Alcoholism, depression, bi-polar - you name it.  If they had it, I was going to work miracles!! (Riiiight.)  Leanred that lesson the hard way time and time again.

In my own life, as of late, I feel like I just cannot get any sort of grip on the issues I'm dealing with.  I feel like career-wise, I'm not getting anywhere I want to be.  It's not for lack of trying, or lack of experience.  Maybe the timing is off?  I feel like I don't make enough money, and I can't do anything about it.  Second job?  Sure.  But then where is the family time?  I'm in a complete and utter rut in this regard.

 I feel like a few friends who are going through some personal things, I can't console the way I want to.  I want to just pluck them out of their bad situations and make them feel better.  But I know I can't.  They have to do that for themselves.  I know I have all my own things to worry about for sure, but that doesn't make me care any less about the people I love.

I know I'm not the only person out there that feels this way.  But lately, the feeling is just overwhelming.  I feel powerless in general.  In my own life.  In the lives of others.  At my job. . .What can I do to get out of this funk? 

Suggestions welcome.  I gotta get my groove back.

That Wasn't The Deal

T.G. (tomorrow's) F.

So I think I've discovered what my husband's absolute favorite quote is:

"That Wasn't The Deal"

He seems to think this can be used for anything at anytime regardless of if a 'deal' was ever even struck.  It most often occurs when I ask him to do something around the house and he asks for a 'favor' in return.  (No need for elaboration here). My response is usually, "Just do it, fool."   This response (in his mind, anyway) triggers some sort of verbal negotiation where I somehow, unbeknownst to me, agree to whatever collateral he suggests.  Then, when I do not act upon what he assumed I agreed to during his state of disillusionment, he spits out the aforementioned phrase.

Our conversations typically go a little something like this:

Me:  "Hey honey, can you take out the trash?"
Him:  "That Wasn't The Deal"

"Can you switch over the laundry?"
Him: "That Wasn't The Deal"

"Change the catbox, please."
Him: "That Wasn't The Deal"

When we signed that marriage license, he clearly didn't read the fine print below my signature that makes all other contracts, both verbal and written that he tries to enforce upon me, null and void.  I believe this fine print is on ALL marriage licenses (under the wife's name only, of course).

So I guess the next time he asks something of me, and insists I must do it because it's my 'wifely' duty, I will simply refer to the 'fine print' on the marriage license that he signed without reading, and smile and say,

 "Sorry, babe.  That wasn't the deal."  ;)

I Hate You, 5 a.m.

Good Evening, Readers,

Since I have nothing better to do while my professor rambles on, I figured it would be a good time to write.  (No worries, I'm partially listening to him).  Something about shipping transit time, inventory, objective. . . .meh. . . .no matter.

So, I woke up this morning at 5 a.m. to spend an hour working out.  5 AM!!!  That's no small feat for me.  Usually the alarm goes off at 5:45, and I hit snooze about 17 times before I finally roll off the bed and stumble into the shower in a sleepy, incoherent fashion.  Or my husband will shut the alarm off the first time, and I forget that I was suppose to get up, and then panic sets in when I open my eyes and it's 6:15, and I need to leave at 6:30!  But I digress.  So, as I said - 5 a.m. this morning is when I got up.

I got dressed in my workout clothes and tromped downstairs to the basement.  I did NOT want to do this.  Every little part of my being just wanted to go back to bed.  I stretched and turned on the treadmill.  The sound of it starting just made me want to kick it.  I powered up my music to get myself pumped (thank you, Pandora), and onto the motorized belt I went.  I began with a brisk walk and after about 10 minutes at this pace, I began to jog.  After about 25 minutes of jogging I hopped off the treadmill.  Sweat was pouring into my eyes, but I felt pretty amazing - and energized.  I finished up upstairs with some crunches (ow, STILL, by the way several hours later).

It's amazing to me how reluctant we, as human beings, can be to take care of our bodies.  When you think about it, you only get one of these (unless, of course, your rich enough to get yours altered).  I am not one of those lucky bastards.  I use to LOVE working out.  I use to do it religiously just before I met my husband.  Everyday.  After we met, I was pregnant pretty much for 2 years straight.  We exercised together for a while in the middle again - and then stopped.  Then a year a half ago, I picked a regimen back up, but after I started my Bachelor's Degree, again, I stopped.  Why?  When did taking care of myself like I should become an on-again/off-again type of romance?  I have made a concious decision that I cannot keep doing that.  I need to take better care of myself.  It should be a habit, really.

With that being said; 5 a.m., I hate you so much, but I will see you again tomorrow.

Sweet 'N' Slow

I dislike Tuesdays.  In fact, I dislike all of the weekdays of every week.  Well, that's not entirely true.  On Monday mornings, I'm slightly excited to come back to work to escape the chaos of the homelife, but come Monday afternoon, I take that back.

Like most people, I have my irritants and annoyances.  I also have a lot of pet peeves.  For example, I strongly dislike it when a sponge is left INSIDE the sink.  It grosses me out to have to fish for that thing through piles of slimy and sticky dishes.  Also, it drives me crazy when our couch cushions wind up on the floor.  Might sound silly, but I hate having to remove a whole dog's worth of hair from a single cushion because it fell on the rug where a bunch of Candy and Tinsel's hair lies dormant.  Doesn't seem to matter how much we vaccuum.  If there's any fur left on the carpet, the cushions will find it!  Another thing that urks me is when the kids don't hang up their wet towels after their showers.  They just drop them in sopping heaps on their bedroom floor and hope that I don't notice.

Mothers always notice.

Oh, and don't get me going on cereal bags that get left open!

But my biggest pet peeve is people who are slower than death when I'm trying to get something done quickly.  Today's near-victim of my wrath?  A man at the convenience store.  All I wanted was that 16 oz. coffee to get me through the rest of the day.  He stood at the coffee counter with two coffee cups, preparing them at the speed of zero.  I counted him opening twenty sugar packets.  Twenty!!  ONE. AT. A. FRICKEN. TIME!!!  - individually pouring each little sweetner on my last nerve!!  But before he opened each packet, he made sure to carefully shake them three times.  *shake, shake, shake*, *tear*, *pour* and repeat.  The very sound of this was enough to make me lose my shit.  And it's not like he moved aside to allow me to do my thing.  Nope!  Didn't he know I was in a hurry??!!  Well, he should have.  Damn it.

Coffee in and digested.  I'm all better now.

My Stuffed Animals Told Me To

Happy Monday Readers,

That was completely sarcastic.

So yesterday went off without a hitch.  No April Fools jokes were played on me by my husband.  Guess he values his life a little more than I thought he did.  Kind of sad, really.  I anticipated something all day long.  If you men are going to talk so much game, you should sort of try to back it up.  Otherwise, it's just that; talk.  ;)

Amaya got on the subject yesterday again about boobs.  I thought we had gone over this.  While I was finishing up getting ready for the lunch we were about to attend she said, "Mom, I accidentally talked about boobs the other day at school."

I spun around, slightly annoyed, and asked, "How do you accidentally do that, Amaya?  You know you're not suppose to be talking about that stuff, especially at school.  Not a kiddie-convo topic!"

"Well," she hesitated, "It wasn't just me.  It was me and a bunch of my friends.  We were talking about our mom's boobs."

"And exactly what were you saying?"

"We were talking about how big our moms' boobs were.  I told my friends yours were BIG!" she followed this with a gesture with her hands indicating size.

"Amaya," I started, but she cut me off.

"DAD taught me that!  I heard him say that!  Maybe you should talk to him!"

UGH.

Amaya is our very vocal and very imaginitive child.  If you know her, you know exactly what I mean.  This morning, in fact, she showed her bright colors in a light that's a little bit scary to see sometimes. 

As usual, the girls have their morning routine.  They get up, they have breakfast, they get dressed, they comb their hair, they brush their teeth, and they gather their things for school. 

This morning, like many other mornings, the girls bickered while they got ready.  Linnea is super sensitive and she was reduced to tears by Amaya's tauntings. Amaya said she wished Linnea wasn't her sister. Spencer scolded Amaya but the bickering continued.  As Spencer was walking by Amaya's bedroom, she was crying.  When he asked what the problem was, she said her stuffed animals told her to call Linnea names.  She didn't want to, but they made her do it.

Hmmmmmmmm.

Normally, one might consider this type of accusation to be age-related, and we're hoping that's the case.  This isn't the first time she's stated that another voice told her to do it.  Guess we'll be watching this one closely over the next few years.

On that note, my break is over, and my coffee is telling me to drink it.

Naked Sundays

Good Morning, Readers!

There's nothing I love more than having a Sunday with absolutely NOTHING to do.  But that doesn't happen frequently in the Cooper residence.  Sundays are usually filled with last-minute errands, visits with friends and/or family, household chores / maintenance, homework and other 'busy nonsense'.  I would like to think that there will come a day in time when I don't even have to bother getting dressed at all. 

(Enter the simplistic yet absolutely fantastic idea of Naked Sundays)

Now, of course, Naked Sundays are really difficult to manage with kids around.  And even if the kids weren't home, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to make it down the hallway without getting fondled - (love you, honey) - that's a tricky task in itself being completely clothed.  And wouldn't it just be the case that someone would show up unannounced if I decided to spend the day in the buff?  Of course it would.  We could move to a nudist colony, but I reckon there are people I would NEVER want to see naked living there, so out goes that idea.

Oh Eve, why did you have to eat that apple?

Guess it's time to go get dressed.  *SIGH*

Selective Stupidity

I think that something needs to be brought to the light here.  And in advance, allow me to apologize to those who might become offended - nah, never mind.  You might not get it anyway.  You ladies know what I'm talking about.  That one question that all of us women ponder, but none of us have the answer to....in regards to men. 

Why are they so stupid? 

Now before all you men out there get your boxers in a bunch, please let me clarify.  Do I mean stupid as in lacking intelligence? No. Not entirely.  Let's call it a bit of selective stupidity, shall we?  Let me start off with just a couple of the cliche issues we see in men pretty regularly:

• When you see your woman or a woman you care about and/or love is upset, and you ask if something is wrong, and she answers with "No" or "Nothing", and you buy that, you're a fricken idiot.  However, do not, and I REPEAT, DO NOT push the issue until she is ready to talk to you about whatever it is that is upsetting her.  Yes, this is catch 22.  Just go with it.  You could be saving your own life.

• Video games.  Let's be real.  Nothing is more ridiculous than a grown-ass man sitting down and playing video games for HOURS and HOURS on end.  Your attention span is not big enough to handle household duties, kids AND video games.  And you wonder why when your woman comes home she's about to blow a gasket.  Simple solution:  Take care of your responsibilities first, THEN you can play.  And if you're responsible for children while your wife is away, do not even bother picking up that paddle.  We know that those lotion hand prints and crayon marks on the wall did not get there in the '2 seconds' you took your eyes off the kid(s).

• You might not believe this, but your appetite CAN be satisfied with a normal single-serving meal.  In order for this to happen though, you must chew your food when you eat.  Your woman does not like going broke at a drive-thru because you believe you will literally die from starvation if you don't order a number 5, a number 10, two sides and a pie.  And by the way, an entire pizza is NOT a meal for one.

That's just a few of many things I could go on about.  But now let's talk about tomorrow and how said stupidity of one man on this planet could cost him his very existence.  Tomorrow is April Fool's Day.  As previously mentioned on Facebook, my husband asked if I would be really mad if he pulled an April Fool's joke on me. He insisted that it would be a great one.

To this inquiry I responded, "If you have to ask me that, it's probably in your best interest to NOT do whatever it is you're going to do."

He sat quietly for a moment and pondered, then said, "Yeah. I'm going to do it. You already have my balls in your purse, so there isn't much more damage you can do...and it's totally going to be worth it." 

And again, as mentioned, there are a few points to note about that conversation:

A. He's a dead man.
B. It's true. His balls are in my purse...on a key chain.
C. If you're going to pull an April Fools joke one someone, you DON'T prepare them to expect something.
D. He's a dead man.

So, with that being said, honey, I would strongly suggest you re-evaluate your April Fools idea(s) because this could very well turn out to be the stupidest move of your 32.11 years.  If you want to make it to 33, reconsider your M.O.

It could be the smartest thing you've ever done.

Butterflies, Butts, and Boobs.

Hello to all my potential readers out there.  This is the first of what I am certain will be MANY blogs.  I have no shortage of material to write about considering I am married with two young daughters, and life is certainly never dull.  I am starting this at the suggestion of a very dear friend who seems to believe that my life at home is great sitcom material.  Reflecting on it, I suppose she's right.  I guess I don't pay much attention to the hilairity of some of the things that happen at home because I am so used to my surroundings.  But, here goes. 

So where is my starting point? 

Well, let's begin with a conversation my 7 year old daughter, Amaya, and I had this morning.  She is entering the age where she is extremely fascinated by the adult female body and also eager to get her own self to this stage way before she is ready.  Normal, right?  Sure.  The conversation started off with her coming up to me and leaning her head upon my chest. 

"Look how tall I am, Mom", she said as she placed her hand on top of her head and pressed her fingers against me showing me exactly how tall she was.  "I'm up to your boobs!"

"I see that," I answered, not trying to make a big deal out of her word usage, hoping she would just let it go.

"I drew boobs by accident yesterday at school," she then said.

By accident?  I waited for the explanation.

"I was drawing a butterfly and the wings looked like boobs and butts," continued Amaya as a smirk slid across her face.

She's testing me.  Don't play into it.

I decided to change the subject and began to question how she wanted to do her hair for the day as I fiddled in the bathroom drawer for a brush.

"I can't wait to get boobs, Mom!"  Amaya tugged on the front of her shirt as she said this, proudly staring in the mirror - as if to make a set magically appear.  Then she peered up at me in the reflection of the mirror and waited for me to say something.

Just let it go....Just let it go...Just let it....

I spun her around so she was facing me, and got down to her eye level and said, "Look, Amaya.  You are seven years old.  You have all the time in the world to grow up and become a woman.  You really need to concentrate on being a kid and worrying about kid things.  Boobs are not a kid's concern, okay?  Just let it go."  Amaya nodded and I stood back up and turned her around so I could proceed with doing her hair.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"When can I buy my first bra?"

FRICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!