:/

I don't feel like coming up with a title today. I'm upset. I'm trying to lose weight. I had a couple of off days- lunch at a decidedly unhealthy establishment with a girlfriend and then a double date at a pub. As a result, I gained 2 lbs. That puts me right back at 181. It is depressing. It is frustrating. I know it's my own fault. But it also makes me want to just cut out a few meals. It's not starving myself, but it's controlling what I eat. By not eating. I had a blueberry muffin for breakfast, and I just keep thinking about how long that could last me. I don't want to have to eat lunch. I don't want to be fat. I don't want to hate mirrors. But even if I lose the weight, will that ever actually happen? I'm guessing no. If I'm overweight, I'll hate myself for being fat. If I'm slim, I'll hate what the slim me represents. There is no winning. I wish there were middle ground. But I don't know. I'm just ready for warm sunny days. They always help brighten my mood. Being down is crappy. Being down on a cloudy icky day is the pits.

Just Like Old Times

The past few days have been stressful. Jan is a slow month for the business, and that is bothersome. It is always a slow month. It probably always will be. It's not the end of the world, but still.  And little bear's reflux came back. That was terribly upsetting. You always want your children to be perfectly healthy.  And there was a huge drama in the group that I used to be a member of.. and I'm named as basically a terrible person. I don't want to go into it. It's just tiring. Well, when I deal with stress, I usually lose my appetite. Well, I've really lost it this week. Monday, I had a muffin and 2 slices of cheese pizza. I had the pizza after my blood sugar dropped. Yesterday, I had a bite or two of muffin, a bite or two of pj's lunch, and nothing till 8, when I had some homemade chicken strips. Unfortunately you can't just not eat and expect no side effects.  And of course I had issues.  Yesterday evening, around 5, my levels just crashed.  I was feeling disoriented, then as I was trying to get little bear's dinner made,  I felt very nauseous and realized I was about to pass out. :( So, I grabbed a coke, and as everything started getting really dark I opened it and took a slurp. And laid down on the floor. The cool tile floor felt nice, and my darling little one promptly climbed on top of me and snuggled. After a few sips of soda and several minutes, I was able to sit up again. Hence why I ate the chicken. Plus, they're a favorite.  Usually it's hard to even make myself eat b/c if I do, the food doesn't sit well. So far today I haven't eaten. I'm debating whether I feel like having lunch. I should try to eat something. But. But I've already started down this path. And it's so tempting to just keep it up. The first few days are always hardest, then the body learns to cope with it. I don't know. It's not healthy. But it isn't like I'm not eating anything. I had a plate of chicken strips yesterday, and the day before 2 slices of pizza. That's a normal amount of food, right? I think so. I think it's fine. I'll just wait and see if I'm really hungry or not. I'll eat something for dinner, I'm sure. Otherwise I would get in trouble with DH for not eating. Unless I really didn't feel like eating, and maybe he'll be running late so I can tell him I already ate earlier.. *sigh*  I .. i shouldn't even be in this stupid mindset. Not at all. But it's so hard to get out. It's here and it's comforting.

Life on the Soapbox

I feel soapboxy this morning.  There's a thread in a group I'm in that is beginning to irritate me. I remind myself that everyone is entitled to an opinion and that everyone has the right to disagree and ya ya ya. And it's not really the debate that irritates me. I will cut straight to the heart of the matter. I am of the firm belief that I'm rarely wrong. It seems to be an inherited trait. I also truly can not stand when people can't use reputable sources to prove their point. I feel, very strongly, that if you are going to tell me something that I'm currently doing is life threatening or unhealthy or bad, I should be able to google it (I'm a googleholic) and quickly and easily find information from *reputable* sources to back up what I've been told. And if I find I'm wrong, I'm quick to admit it. But if the best I can find are articles in natural news.com or vegetarianismisthewaytobe.com or whatever, I'm not going to go for it. I don't think that the world is conspiring against us, the regular joes and janes of the world. And perhaps it's the HFCS in my diet that makes me so complacent. But let's be honest. What does it matter? What can YOU do if there is, in fact, a huge conspiracy to hide the *truth* about the dangers of soy or the US clandestinely trying to outlaw private vegetable gardens or whatever other thing is out there? Get worked up? Cry out against the evils of government? To what end? Not saying you shouldn't fight for what you believe for, but why bother with things that may or may not be true depending on what and who you consider reputable and believable?

That's about it, I suppose.

Snowglobin' It

I feel like I should post a happier blog to end the day because today was an overall good day.  It was a very nice day. Peej was in a great mood, and it snowed big, beautiful snowflakes all day long. And even better, no accumulation. And while I admit that playing in a snowy yard has a certain appeal to my inner child, we had plenty of playing in a snowy yard last week. I've had my fill for a bit. So looking out the window to see that we've been deposited in a real world snow globe was all my little heart desired. We played and cleaned, and dh, his assistant and her two rambunctious boys came home for lunch. Grilled cheese sandwiches, quesadillas and mac and cheese were the foods offered and greedily eaten.  Then visiting, game playing in various corners of the house and just chilling out watching the snow fall until my Little Bear went down for a nap.  Our visitors went their merry way to wherever they went, and DH and I played some Fable 3 on the 360.

Ahh, how I miss our co-op gaming time.  It's rare that we can do it anymore, but so fun when we can. And it was such a perfect afternoon for the activity. Cold, snowy day outside, warm house inside. I had a cup of coffee with raspberry and milk added to warm my tummy, and my beautiful toddler and his wonderful daddy were snuggling as we played.

If this isn't 'The Life', then I surely don't know what it could possibly be.

Eternal Repercussions

Last night, we watched the second Twilight movie. I always get the titles mixed up. So, first few minutes, blah blah, birthday crap, blah blah, blood, fight, ya ya, then breakup scene, she gets lost.. Then the scene of her sitting in front of the window as the months go by. And that song that plays. I don't know the name of the song, nor do I want to know. It's an incredibly depressing song, and just hearing it takes me back. Not to some failed romance, but to a death that had enormous impact on my life.

My grandmother and I were incredibly close. I was born the day before her birthday. She took care of me from 3 months till kindergarten, and I had regular overnights with her, and went on trips with her and papa.  She taught me how to draw, and read, and how to play memory games. When I was very little, I remember getting to sleep in the bed between her and papa. Then, they moved me to a lounge chair that they set up next to the bed. She and I would stay up past my bedtime putting together puzzles, or doing crossword puzzles. They almost always ordered pizza for my regular overnights. Large thin crust hamburger pizza. I loved playing pretend games in their entryway, and it was not uncommon for guests to walk in on me mid-wardrobe change.  When I started high school, I walked the 3 blocks to her house every day after school and stayed till my mom got off work and picked me up. We never traded words in anger, although there were points over which we disagreed. Ice cream flavors, for one. She was a daquiri ice lover, I prefered chocolate chip cookie dough. All in all, our personalities were remarkably similar. 

I graduated high school and moved off to college, but still made a point to spend time with her when I was home, and often called her.  Met my now dh in college. I was anxious for him to meet her. She had disapproved of every. single. boyfriend. I'd ever had. I'd begun to think that she would always disapprove. But I was wrong. He came home with me one weekend and she liked him. They bonded over daquiri ice ice cream, and things went from there.  She approved. That sealed the deal for me, although it was 7 years before we married. Life was good.

Fast forward several years.

2005

Grandma was always very overweight. Then she caught a nasty lingering cold and lost weight as a result. She continued losing weight over the next several months. She was so happy that her appetite had gone down so much and she was losing the weight! Husband (still boyfriend at the time) and I had decided to move out of our 1 bedroom apartment, and were looking for a house to buy. We found a great starter home. Closing date was October 20, 2005. It's funny the things that stick with you. Friday the moving truck moved all our furniture to the new house. Saturday my uncle and his wife and my then best friend and her boyfriend helped move boxes from the apartment to the house. Sunday I spent the afternoon at the apartment cleaning and boxing up more things.  I load up the car after working all afternoon, and take it home.  Hubby's parents are at the house. He greets me outside. My grandmother was taken to the hospital, he said, and they're calling in family. She had apparently contracted pneumonia at some point and after who knows how long of not treating it, it turned to septicemia- the infection was in her blood. I grabbed a few needed toiletries, and rode the 2 hours to my hometown with my uncle and his wife.

Please pardon me, but things start getting sketchy from here.  I remember us visiting her in the hospital. DH (dear hubby) came down the next day and I remember all of us, my mom and step dad, my sister, DH, my mom's 4 brothers and their significant others all crowded in the semi-private room she was staying in. We joked and talked, and eventually all went back to our respective homes. Next day I was back at work. I got a call at work. The hospital had run followup tests on her, got some strange results and gave her a CAT scan and MRI or something. Her body was riddled with cancer. She wasn't going to live long. My heart fell into a black hole and was crushed. I remember crying in my boss' office. I was horrified. I was so upset. Either that night or the next, we were at home and my aunt called. Grandma had taken a turn for the worse. She was dying. They were keeping her on ventilators until we could get down there. I freaked out. I yelled at her. I screamed. I told her she was a dirty liar and asked why she would say such lies. I refused to believe her lies. The joke wasn't funny. I hung up on her. DH spoke to her first, and had started packing a bag for me. Then my stepdad called. It was no lie. She was in a coma and would die very soon. I needed to pack some things and come down. I remember losing the strength in my legs and crying in the floor of our closet. This time, he accompanied me. We followed my uncle down. It was such a dark night, and foggy to boot. We drove recklessly fast.

We get down there and the family is all there. Even one of her brothers. They were huddled in the ICU waiting area. Papa asked if we wanted to go back to see her. So mom, my sis and I did. I walked with him. The closer we got to her room, the less I wanted to see her. I'd been  in the hospital room when my paternal grandmother took her last breath. But I couldn't.. I wouldn't do this with her. I could not watch her breathe her last breath. I couldn't. I started to panic. I was being pushed to a reality I refused to accept. Papa told me I didn't have to see her if I didn't want to. But I did. So I went in with them. I held her hand, that same hand that popped my behind if I misbehaved, and loved to play with my hair.  I told her that I loved her. I imagined that she squeezed back just the tiniest bit. I left the room.  As the wee hours of the night approached, we discussed obituaries and funerals, and where to send the masses of flowers and plants that she'd gotten during her brief stay in the hospital. Some point, around 3 or 4 in the morning, dh and I went to a nearby town to rest at my dad and step mom's house.  A few hours later, we received the call.

She died.

DH drove me back to my hometown. He had to leave to go back to classes. It was nearing finals, and he couldn't afford to miss.  We were all gathering at grandma and papa's house.  I think they were looking for clothes and whatnot for her to wear. I don't know. I wandered aimlessly in the house, unaware that those steps would be the last I ever took in the house I spent so many days, so many laughs, so many special moments of my life in.  I recall crying in her bedroom. At some point, papa said he had to go to Mena, a town a couple hours away to make arrangements. They were burying her there. They had bought land there and he was working on building them a house to retire in. I rode with him. I remember a stop along the way for him to get a drink and something. We got to town. One of his sisters flew? drove? somehow got down there from Kansas. We shared a room together. She told me I stank and needed to shower. She was right. It had been several days.  I'd ceased to function long ago, and needed to be reminded to carry out even the simplest tasks.  I would talk, I would walk, and do things, but it was a husk. I had been pulled into the black hole with my heart. I didn't see anything. I heard little. My love, although he packed several pairs of underwear, had neglected to pack an entire outfit suitable for the funeral. Luckily my little sister packed extra things.

At some point someone brought a sandwich tray, and one morning.. or was it two? we all ate breakfast at this restaurant. Buffet style. On the evening of the viewing, I spent a good portion of the evening staring at myself in the mirror. I don't know why. I spent an equally healthy part looking at who sent what plants, and rubbing my beloved grandmother's hand until the makeup came off. Makeup on her hand. Makeup on my grandmother's hand because it was lifeless. It would forever more be lifeless, and would rely solely on makeup to give it a hint of the life that once coursed through it. There might have been some sort of ceremony, and I have no idea who was there. Funeral day, a local church provided a meal. I ate. DH was back. It was Saturday. I have no idea where the other days were spent.  Went to the funeral. I cried and he had to help me walk. My legs were toothpicks trying to hold up the world. I recall them wanting us to leave before they lowered her body into the grave. But we stayed and I watched from the car. It was terrifying. They were putting my grandmother INTO THE HOLE!!! PLEASE PLEASE make them STOP. But they neither heard me, nor did they stop. We drove home. The next day, Sunday, was Halloween. So many children came to trick or treat.

I.. I refused to accept her death for a long time. She wasn't dead, I would say to myself. I just haven't called her. I really ought to call her. They all gathered to go through her things. I couldnt' go, I told them, but all I wanted was the printer's tray that forever hung above where she sat. Ok, that's fine, you can have it. Finally, months and months down the road I called. It was no longer in service. My papa had permanently moved to Mena while he was building his house. Not theirs anymore. Just his. I cried. I cried daily that first year, to work, home from work. Then I started crying every other day, then every few days, then weekly, and now, six long years later, I cry about once a month or so. But every time I cry, the scab is ripped from the wound and it bleeds as heavily as the first time, and the pain is just as deep as when it first occured. Apparently, I didn't smile much for several months. I don't remember. I don't remember much of anything about that first year.

I do recall dreading our birthdays. See, being that our birthdays were back to back, we always shared a family birthday party. And this year.. We wouldn't. The previous year on our birthdays, she forgot to call me. I thouht nothing of it, and called her on her birthday. She was so upset because she missed my birthday. It's ok grandma, I remember saying. You'll remember next year. Except. There was no next. year. There was and never will be another next year.

We got married, and it was terribly bittersweet. So happy to be forever joined with my perfect mate, but forever regretful that my grandmother couldn't be there to see it. A couple years later, we had our beautiful baby boy. And oh..... oh how many times have I WISHED with all of my heart to just be able to pick up the phone and call her. I never knew that you could wish so hard that it made you ache. But you can. You can wish with every breath, every thought and every movement you make until you crack and bleed. But alas. It never comes true. I think of her.

Every.
Single.

Day.

I wish, oh how I wish, that someone else had died in her place. That this has all been an incredibly elaborate and detailed dream. That...... that I was but a little girl again sitting in her lap as we talked about everything.

sigh

We have a great dane, Yasmin. Yaz for short. I love her. She's a sweetheart. She's also no spring chicken. She will be 8 years old the end of Feb, which is pretty up there in dane years.  She loved PJ when he was tiny, liked him when he was bigger, and for the most part enjoys playing with him now that he's running around.  However, she does have issues. Namely her food bowl and her bed. We go back and forth with her being ok and not ok with these two areas. I know the problem lies in her idea that she's either higher up or at least equal to PJ in the big scheme of things. For meal times, I try to make a point to have her eat a few kibbles out of PJ's hand before she gets to eat, and then PJ and I spend at least a portion of the meal right next to her. This solves the food problem for the most part.


Bed... grr.  It's rarely an issue I have to address, b/c Peej has way better things going on than to mess with the sleeping dog. haha there's a joke in there. Anyway.... This morning I'm feeling rather shitty- periods do that to a girl- and PJ had free roam of the house- the child proofed rooms, that is.  So, he's off somewhere playing. I hear Yaz let out her mean "I'm going to eat you growl" and a few seconds later PJ cries.  I realize they're in our bedroom and likely in or near her bed.  I rush in there and she's across the room, and already hunkering down b/c she knows she's in trouble. PJ was unharmed. Hurt feelings were the only injuries sustained.  That does not reduce my irritation at the dog. I growl at her, "What is wrong with you?? Go OUT." She scutters out of the bedroom, down the hall and to the back door, with me at her heels reminding her that that was a bad dog thing to do. As she slinks out the back door, I kick her in the ass. Grr. Being hormonal is not helping.


I'm sorry, it's getting hard to focus. This will have to be a short post today.

Hello loverseat... goodbye bed.

Well, any fears of being knocked up were knocked out tonight.  Terrible horrible cramping. I hate cramping. It makes me want to just die.  Seriously. Mainly because it's not sharp. It's this dull ache that's rough around the edges. It works its way outward, starting from my lower back  and spreads like a slow burning fire to my legs, and my stomach, my arms, even my head.  I lose any appetite, and I find concentration difficult.  Sometimes, it feels like I'm radiating pain. As if somehow it is able to be felt by others if they venture too closely. Ick. Ack. Uck. 

Not where I was wanting to go with this blog.. But it's too late now. My original plan was busted by the cramps.

Hi.

Well, here goes. I've thought about starting up a blog on here a lot recently. Used to have one on myspace, but that place is just weird looking anymore.  Let's see. Guess it would be appropriate to say a little about myself.  I'm a wife to a wonderful man, even if he pisses me off sometimes, mother to what may possibly be the happiest toddler in the world, owner of a great dane and a tabby cat, daughter to 2 sets of parents, sister to a few people, etc etc. I attended college, but never graduated. Just.. well, it just wasn't my thing. My darling husband used to try to encourage me to finish, but I think (hope) he's given up pretty much. It's just soooo tedius and sooooo boring.

I'm a stay-at-home mom, and honestly it's so different than I anticipated it would be.  I have both more and less time than I thought I would. I wouldn't trade it for the world. Being able to watch him learn so much every single day is amazing.  He has taught me a lot about myself too.

I will readily admit. I have luggage, baggage, issues, whatever you want to call it.  But I"m not in the right mindset to talk about it, so I won't. Perhaps later. 

I don't have much else right now. I do, however, have a kitchen that's been neglected the past two days. errg.