There is one secret to "self-help" that I havent read in any book, and I've read my share of books. Do you know what it is?
The biggest step toward change is implementation. None of the principles, incites, or 12-step programs are going to do a lick of good if you don't put them to practice.
I'm reading 2 incredible books right now. Gretchen Rubin's "The Happiness Project" and Joseph Murphy's "The Power of Your Subconscious Mind". Both are motivational-change your perspective-books. . This whole, adopting a new outlook in order to have a happier home/mentally healthy mind, thing has been a long time coming, and I discovered both of these little gems at the same time. I'm not going to try to summarise either because I'm only about half way through each, but I am making a conscious choice to implement the key concepts: Take a moment and pause. If I change the way I think about/approach things, I can change my life. It's going to be a challenge, but with statements like: "Never finish a negative statement; reverse it immediately, and wonders will happen in your life." (The Power of Your Subconscious Mind pp.19)
Today was my first test.
Why did I get so irked with the Cowboy? He kindly offered to call the local sheriff's department to get me some information, and when we realised he did not ask all of the necessary questions, he even called them back. Yet by the time he conveyed the information to me, I was irritated that he didn't get all of the information the first time and spiraled downward into being completely annoyed that he is home sick, when he is not too sick to be at work, and hasn't done anything but play PS3 games all day; yet when I am sick, I still have to watch Monkey (because he wont dare be late for work in order to take her to school), get laundry done, vacuum, clean the kitchen, and make dinner for everyone.
How on earth did I go from a lovely lunchtime conversation and my husband doing something kind for me, to being so completely aggravated that I don't even want to talk to him? This is exactly the kind of thinking behavior I am trying to halt. No more negative, selfish thinking. No more, poor me, where is my gold star, I want some credit- recognition- or gratitude thinking. I do all of the things I do, for myself (truly.) No one else cares if the house is a mess or if I actually stay in bed (or on the couch) when I am sick. I just can not stand to waste an entire free day, sick or not, away from the office. Idle time does not bode well for me. So it is completely unfair of me to be irritated with my "sick" husband because he is still in his pajamas at noon-thirty. There are tons of things to get done, but he is home sick. He should be doing nothing but relaxing, playing video games and eating the left over pizza. And when I get home, there should be a whole pile of used tissues on the floor, remnants of what he's consumed today strung all over the kitchen, an unmade bed, and three teenagers and a six-year-old looking at me asking "What's for dinner."
And I'm going to smile and ask; "What would you like?"
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Acceptance
Living with teenagers is an entirely different sport than hanging out with them on the weekends. They've never had a mom and are quite accustomed to "their" ways of doing things. Their way being: not doing until they've been asked 4 times and they realize you're on the verge of packing all of their belongings and moving them to the attic; passing the buck about why the garbage is overflowing, there is strawberry jelly on the counter, a 1/2 full glass of milk in the fridge while they're pouring another one; and telling you they don't know how to fold their laundry because "Grandma always just did that for us because we did it wrong." (Thanks Grandma.)
Needless to say, we're all adjusting, and I'm determined to turn this adjustment a positive thing. I don't want everyone, especially my husband, to dread coming home. I accept that I work full-time, I accept that I can't make the kids disappear when I want to, and I accept (begrudgingly at the moment) that I don't always get what I want, and that I have to make sacrifices for the sake of the "team".
Less nagging, more joking. Less yelling, more running. I mean really, does it matter if the floor is swept every day, so long as I dont walk through or set my bag in any unidentifiable stickiness again? I'll lay off about the 6 knives that were used to make 3 sandwiches in the morning, if they manage to get them into the dishwasher before I get home. Compromise is an art, apparently, so I'll become an artist.
In other words: I accept that it's time to grow up be an adult. (eek!)
I'm thinking of the lovely instead of the ugly, and I'm doing something awesome for myself. I put down my nightly "mommy juice", and I'm taking to the streets (or the forest.)
In a little over 5 weeks, I begin training for a marathon!
Why would I go and do something crazy like, sacrifice my Sunday morning sleep, for the next 6 months, to take up something like running?
Because I needed a fitness goal, and I needed something I would stick to.
Because my sister lost 25 pounds last year, in 4 months.
Because in 304(ish) days I'm getting on a plane, with 25 of my closest family members, and heading to Maui for 14 days! And, beings that Uncle Sam had alternate plans for my taxes this year, I'm not getting the enhancements I was expecting to get. So if I cant fill out the top of a "modest" bikini, I'm certainly not going to overfill the bottom of it.
Today I ran 2 miles in 24 minutes. Not bad for a beginner. My legs are a little sore, so tomorrow I rest. I'm still going to walk at lunch, because Lord knows I need a break at least once in my day, but I will go home and make dinner and watch tv with my cowboy and the heathen wonderful children, who really do make my life better than I ever thought it could be!
Needless to say, we're all adjusting, and I'm determined to turn this adjustment a positive thing. I don't want everyone, especially my husband, to dread coming home. I accept that I work full-time, I accept that I can't make the kids disappear when I want to, and I accept (begrudgingly at the moment) that I don't always get what I want, and that I have to make sacrifices for the sake of the "team".
Less nagging, more joking. Less yelling, more running. I mean really, does it matter if the floor is swept every day, so long as I dont walk through or set my bag in any unidentifiable stickiness again? I'll lay off about the 6 knives that were used to make 3 sandwiches in the morning, if they manage to get them into the dishwasher before I get home. Compromise is an art, apparently, so I'll become an artist.
In other words: I accept that it's time to grow up be an adult. (eek!)
I'm thinking of the lovely instead of the ugly, and I'm doing something awesome for myself. I put down my nightly "mommy juice", and I'm taking to the streets (or the forest.)
In a little over 5 weeks, I begin training for a marathon!
Why would I go and do something crazy like, sacrifice my Sunday morning sleep, for the next 6 months, to take up something like running?
Because I needed a fitness goal, and I needed something I would stick to.
Because my sister lost 25 pounds last year, in 4 months.
Because in 304(ish) days I'm getting on a plane, with 25 of my closest family members, and heading to Maui for 14 days! And, beings that Uncle Sam had alternate plans for my taxes this year, I'm not getting the enhancements I was expecting to get. So if I cant fill out the top of a "modest" bikini, I'm certainly not going to overfill the bottom of it.
Today I ran 2 miles in 24 minutes. Not bad for a beginner. My legs are a little sore, so tomorrow I rest. I'm still going to walk at lunch, because Lord knows I need a break at least once in my day, but I will go home and make dinner and watch tv with my cowboy and the heathen wonderful children, who really do make my life better than I ever thought it could be!
Friday, February 19, 2010
Run DONE!
Last year I was envious of my sister and her neighbor. They joined a local running club and ran four nights a week plus Saturday mornings, to train for the marathon. Every time I logged into Facebook I would see their posts: "Run Done! ..." I so wanted to be out there running, but was the queen of excuses as to why I couldn't...
I live on a highway.
I have to make dinner.
There are 30 horses to feed.
The fridge has all this beer in it and if I don't drink it - it's just going to sit there in the dark .... how tragic would that be?!
This year, I live in the country. I'm a half-mile from the road and mile in from "main road to town", there are only 3 horses to feed, the kids can start dinner, and the Cowboy will definitely drink all the beer if I decide not to partake.
Win Win Win! I get to go run and I have no excuses not to. PLUS! I live 2 miles from a lake with some pretty fantastic trails. While it's still muddy on the upper routes, I discovered a great, mostly flat, path that is .9 miles and circles the entire lake.
I'm new to this whole running thing so I'm taking it slow. I got a 5 minute warm-up of brisk walking, the ran 2 minutes / walked 1 minute, for 20 minutes, then a 10 minute cool down and some simple stretching. Stretching is definitely my favorite things about exercising. Even when I dont realise how much I'm working, feeling my muscles lengthen, and breathe when I'm done working them, is so incredibly soothing.
An unexpected perk of running after work, I was actually pleasant when I got home the second time. After my initial drop and escape - where I drop off Monkey, change into work out clothes, and bolt back out the door - I got some quiet, me time, did something healthy that made me feel good, and when I got home I actually wanted to make dinner and converse with my family instead of mixing a drink and zoning out in front of the TV hoping to catch some elusive quiet.
(I know that quiet in front of the TV sounds contradictory; but I dont actually listen to the TV. It's just on to allow my brain to shut down.)
Today, I'm heading out into the sunshine for a lunch walk, and tonight I run again! Tomorrow is my first day to rest.
~Cheers!
I live on a highway.
I have to make dinner.
There are 30 horses to feed.
The fridge has all this beer in it and if I don't drink it - it's just going to sit there in the dark .... how tragic would that be?!
This year, I live in the country. I'm a half-mile from the road and mile in from "main road to town", there are only 3 horses to feed, the kids can start dinner, and the Cowboy will definitely drink all the beer if I decide not to partake.
Win Win Win! I get to go run and I have no excuses not to. PLUS! I live 2 miles from a lake with some pretty fantastic trails. While it's still muddy on the upper routes, I discovered a great, mostly flat, path that is .9 miles and circles the entire lake.
I'm new to this whole running thing so I'm taking it slow. I got a 5 minute warm-up of brisk walking, the ran 2 minutes / walked 1 minute, for 20 minutes, then a 10 minute cool down and some simple stretching. Stretching is definitely my favorite things about exercising. Even when I dont realise how much I'm working, feeling my muscles lengthen, and breathe when I'm done working them, is so incredibly soothing.
An unexpected perk of running after work, I was actually pleasant when I got home the second time. After my initial drop and escape - where I drop off Monkey, change into work out clothes, and bolt back out the door - I got some quiet, me time, did something healthy that made me feel good, and when I got home I actually wanted to make dinner and converse with my family instead of mixing a drink and zoning out in front of the TV hoping to catch some elusive quiet.
(I know that quiet in front of the TV sounds contradictory; but I dont actually listen to the TV. It's just on to allow my brain to shut down.)
Today, I'm heading out into the sunshine for a lunch walk, and tonight I run again! Tomorrow is my first day to rest.
~Cheers!
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Locked out and Locked in
It's one of those extra special days here at the Fickle house!
I got up at 4:30 and made The Cowboy his lunch, went back to bed til around 5:15, got Monkey up, we showered, we dressed, I grabbed my purse, locked the bedroom door to keep the heathen out of my crap, and headed to the kitchen. I poured my coffee and orange juice, took my vitamins, helped Monkey brush the back of her hair, and headed toward the garage while digging in my purse for my keys...
No keys.
... (light bulb!)...
After a momentary pause I remember why I never, under any circumstances, put my keys in my pocket.
My keys are in my jacket.
And where is my jacket?
...not on the computer chair; where I usually attempt to hang it to show the heathen that we don't just leave our things carelessly around the house.
(If you're not going to put something away, at least make it look like it belongs where you leave it.)
...not tossed carelessly on the arm of the couch; where The Cowboyand I typically deposit our his hoodies, coats, hats, gloves, etc.
(I know... we're awesome role models.)
My jacket is hanging on my bedpost. Right where I left it last night after unloading the shit-ton of Christmas gifts, that I purchased yesterday, into my closet.
I am stuck at the house, all day, in my work clothes (because of course my laundry is never in the laundry room, ready to be washed), trying to entertain a Monkey who cant get to school because I cant drive because my car keys are locked in my bedroom!
I actually called my office and told them that. Seriously, if I was just trying to get out of going to work I'd have come up with a way better lame-ass excuse.
I keep going upstairs to try to get stuff out of my room or put laundry away. I even got the bright idea to wrap all the presents while everyone but Monkey is gone for the day. But the presents are locked in my room, with my keys. and the wrapping paper, tape, scissors, bows, pretty colorful super-fine-tipped Sharpies, and my wedding guest list which would be handy for sending out my Christmas cards.
I thought about working out, but I realised I'm in work clothes.
Maybe I'll bake something. Yeah! Maybe if I get all of the domestic things done, that I don't have time to do because I work all day, and if have a big dinner on the table and a smile on my face and I'm still in my "nice" work clothes instead of my green Hollister sweats or yoga pants, when The Cowboy gets home then he'll let me quit my crappy job and stay home! I can become all Martha Stuart-like and I can play with my horse while the kids are at school and I can work out and shop and be crafty and bloggy and ... and ...
Oh! What...Sorry...
Then there's reality and all...
(sigh.)
Well... at least I got a post in :o)
Oh! and the heathen's laundry is finally done.
If I don't write before then, Have a Very Very Merry Christmas!
~cheers
I got up at 4:30 and made The Cowboy his lunch, went back to bed til around 5:15, got Monkey up, we showered, we dressed, I grabbed my purse, locked the bedroom door to keep the heathen out of my crap, and headed to the kitchen. I poured my coffee and orange juice, took my vitamins, helped Monkey brush the back of her hair, and headed toward the garage while digging in my purse for my keys...
No keys.
... (light bulb!)...
After a momentary pause I remember why I never, under any circumstances, put my keys in my pocket.
My keys are in my jacket.
And where is my jacket?
...not on the computer chair; where I usually attempt to hang it to show the heathen that we don't just leave our things carelessly around the house.
(If you're not going to put something away, at least make it look like it belongs where you leave it.)
...not tossed carelessly on the arm of the couch; where The Cowboy
(I know... we're awesome role models.)
My jacket is hanging on my bedpost. Right where I left it last night after unloading the shit-ton of Christmas gifts, that I purchased yesterday, into my closet.
I am stuck at the house, all day, in my work clothes (because of course my laundry is never in the laundry room, ready to be washed), trying to entertain a Monkey who cant get to school because I cant drive because my car keys are locked in my bedroom!
I actually called my office and told them that. Seriously, if I was just trying to get out of going to work I'd have come up with a way better lame-ass excuse.
I keep going upstairs to try to get stuff out of my room or put laundry away. I even got the bright idea to wrap all the presents while everyone but Monkey is gone for the day. But the presents are locked in my room, with my keys. and the wrapping paper, tape, scissors, bows, pretty colorful super-fine-tipped Sharpies, and my wedding guest list which would be handy for sending out my Christmas cards.
I thought about working out, but I realised I'm in work clothes.
Maybe I'll bake something. Yeah! Maybe if I get all of the domestic things done, that I don't have time to do because I work all day, and if have a big dinner on the table and a smile on my face and I'm still in my "nice" work clothes instead of my green Hollister sweats or yoga pants, when The Cowboy gets home then he'll let me quit my crappy job and stay home! I can become all Martha Stuart-like and I can play with my horse while the kids are at school and I can work out and shop and be crafty and bloggy and ... and ...
Oh! What...Sorry...
Then there's reality and all...
(sigh.)
Well... at least I got a post in :o)
Oh! and the heathen's laundry is finally done.
If I don't write before then, Have a Very Very Merry Christmas!
~cheers
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
I don't feel like I'm thriving, but who knows.
So, I have a new husband, thus I have new health insurance. Almost free, incredible coverage, fully reimbursable, union-health insurance. I'm not bitching.
OK. I am.
I loved my old doctor. I had 11 years of history with her. She delivered my daughter. For 3 years she continually told me I was not crazy, when clearly I was. She wasn't a doctor who handed out script and rushed you out the door, but she wasn't opposed to helping a girl get a good night's sleep every now and then either. She is not part of my new coverage. I married into the big box club that wants the world the "Thrive."
(sigh.)
(I'm going to make some microwave popcorn so I can grease up my keyboard as I type this... just a sec.)
(OH! did I mention that last month I found a cockroach in the drawer, in the break room at work? A COCKROACH! Seriously. I took the rest of the day off... Paid!)
OK, thanks for your patience. Back to my story.
Monday, I went in for an establishing physical... I will mention now that I had to argue with the appointment lady, who's switchboard is in another state, to get a girl doctor. "Thrive" is apparently so popular that none of their women doctors in two states was accepting new patients. I was like, "Bull Crap. I didnt choose to "Thrive" I married into it. I want a woman doctor, find me one."... and she did... sometimes it pays to hold your ground. When it doesn't, be a tactful-bitch.
(see. I was raised right!)
Fortunately this wasn't the gown with socks and speculum physical. More like a nice-to-meet-you-what-drugs-are-you-currently-prescribed-none?-would-you-like-something-oh-by-the-way-you-drink-too-much physicals.
I left work, picked Monkey up from school, arrived 15 minutes early, like their courtesy reminder call from Friday requested, and got checked in. Then we sat in a waiting room, which was more like an airport boarding area, full of people coughing and sneezing into their hands then touching the chairs and magazines and each other, all being redirected to another boarding area to enter the raffle for an H1N1 Vaccine. For An Hour.
Finally this 40ish perky lady calls the next name, "Fickle Newwife". I look around to see which germ factory's turn it is. She says it again, "Fickle Newwife" sounding a little less perky. Finally on the third time I realise she's talking about me. I've been Fickle Chic for a long time, Newwife isn't familiar on anything but paper yet.
(I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying this popcorn.)
I explain the name thing as she walks Monkey and I though the door. She resumes perkiness and tells me to have a seat, right there in the hall. Monkey stands, like an angel, against the wall (shocking!) and the preliminary interview begins.
"First your Temperature: 98.9 good. Blood pressure? excellent. Pulse? yep, still there. Weight? well that's not bad for someone who drinks abottle glass of wine everyday. Height? You shrank an inch this year. Now follow me this way and you can wait for the Doctor."
In the exam room Monkey sat in the chair and I on the "table", and the full disclosure began... This is my favorite part because I get to talk alot about ME.
"I'm not sure but I can call my mom.... I don't think so but that sounds familiar....I think my sister has that... Yes, I have but I don't anymore... Just once, but that was a long time ago and I didn't inhale... Could you please define alcoholism (we're not mean or anything.) Really? then my whole family and almost everyone I know is likely affected by that... No, I haven't had a TDap. You're right I should probably get one. I tend to step on rusty barbed wire with my bare feet."
So the Not Doctor leaves and Monkey and I get really involved in an intense game of "I Spy" when the Real Doctor comes in.
I should've been a Doctor. She's my age (ish.) and even though she works for "Thrive" I bet she makes alot more than I do... and seriously, she spent all of 5 minutes with me over an hour after I was on her schedule.
(I'm seriously chowing this popcorn... I feel like a pig, but it's friggin' good!)
"Ears; good. Throat; normal. Glans; normal. Boobs; nothing out of the ordinary. Are you taking any medication?"
"No."
"Is there any questions you have for me."
"Well... I keep gaining weight no matter what I eat or how much I exercise."
"That happens as we get closer to 30."
(insert blank stare...)
If you went to a hair stylist, and you were asked to be 15 minutes early then you sat waiting for an hour only to have some other person who looks like a stylist but isn't actually a stylist come wash your hair and set the foils then rinse and prep you for the cut only for your real stylist to come in with the scissors and give you a quick, cold, trim then say "you should probably drink less. did you have any questions for me. OK good. it was nice to meet you. not-stylist will be right in to blow dry and style as you wish." wouldn't that piss you off?
OK. I wasn't pissed, just in awe. Taken aback, if you will.
So, Real Doctor leaves, Not Doctor returns. Monkey sees the TDap and immediately says, "Mommy, I'm not sick. I don't need a shot."
To which I reply, "No baby, the shot is for me."
"Not feelin good huh? It's OK, you're a big girl. Just sit up and take a deep breath."
I Love Monkey!
A quick stab in the arm, didn't feel a thing. I mention that the last time I got a tetanus shot it hurt immediately, like when the horse bit my arm. Serious muscle cramping ache in my arm. This time nothing.
Not Doctor explains that sometimes people hit the wrong spot.
Yesterday, my arm hurt. That horse bite, deep muscle, painful to stretch or reach for things hurt. I went to my girl gym to work out, and my arm cramped up and it was painful to do three of my arm exercises. It still hurts, popcorn and all.
Not Doctor is a liar.
This is not "Thriving".
~cheers!
OK. I am.
I loved my old doctor. I had 11 years of history with her. She delivered my daughter. For 3 years she continually told me I was not crazy, when clearly I was. She wasn't a doctor who handed out script and rushed you out the door, but she wasn't opposed to helping a girl get a good night's sleep every now and then either. She is not part of my new coverage. I married into the big box club that wants the world the "Thrive."
(sigh.)
(I'm going to make some microwave popcorn so I can grease up my keyboard as I type this... just a sec.)
(OH! did I mention that last month I found a cockroach in the drawer, in the break room at work? A COCKROACH! Seriously. I took the rest of the day off... Paid!)
OK, thanks for your patience. Back to my story.
Monday, I went in for an establishing physical... I will mention now that I had to argue with the appointment lady, who's switchboard is in another state, to get a girl doctor. "Thrive" is apparently so popular that none of their women doctors in two states was accepting new patients. I was like, "Bull Crap. I didnt choose to "Thrive" I married into it. I want a woman doctor, find me one."... and she did... sometimes it pays to hold your ground. When it doesn't, be a tactful-bitch.
(see. I was raised right!)
Fortunately this wasn't the gown with socks and speculum physical. More like a nice-to-meet-you-what-drugs-are-you-currently-prescribed-none?-would-you-like-something-oh-by-the-way-you-drink-too-much physicals.
I left work, picked Monkey up from school, arrived 15 minutes early, like their courtesy reminder call from Friday requested, and got checked in. Then we sat in a waiting room, which was more like an airport boarding area, full of people coughing and sneezing into their hands then touching the chairs and magazines and each other, all being redirected to another boarding area to enter the raffle for an H1N1 Vaccine. For An Hour.
Finally this 40ish perky lady calls the next name, "Fickle Newwife". I look around to see which germ factory's turn it is. She says it again, "Fickle Newwife" sounding a little less perky. Finally on the third time I realise she's talking about me. I've been Fickle Chic for a long time, Newwife isn't familiar on anything but paper yet.
(I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying this popcorn.)
I explain the name thing as she walks Monkey and I though the door. She resumes perkiness and tells me to have a seat, right there in the hall. Monkey stands, like an angel, against the wall (shocking!) and the preliminary interview begins.
"First your Temperature: 98.9 good. Blood pressure? excellent. Pulse? yep, still there. Weight? well that's not bad for someone who drinks a
In the exam room Monkey sat in the chair and I on the "table", and the full disclosure began... This is my favorite part because I get to talk alot about ME.
"I'm not sure but I can call my mom.... I don't think so but that sounds familiar....I think my sister has that... Yes, I have but I don't anymore... Just once, but that was a long time ago and I didn't inhale... Could you please define alcoholism (we're not mean or anything.) Really? then my whole family and almost everyone I know is likely affected by that... No, I haven't had a TDap. You're right I should probably get one. I tend to step on rusty barbed wire with my bare feet."
So the Not Doctor leaves and Monkey and I get really involved in an intense game of "I Spy" when the Real Doctor comes in.
I should've been a Doctor. She's my age (ish.) and even though she works for "Thrive" I bet she makes alot more than I do... and seriously, she spent all of 5 minutes with me over an hour after I was on her schedule.
(I'm seriously chowing this popcorn... I feel like a pig, but it's friggin' good!)
"Ears; good. Throat; normal. Glans; normal. Boobs; nothing out of the ordinary. Are you taking any medication?"
"No."
"Is there any questions you have for me."
"Well... I keep gaining weight no matter what I eat or how much I exercise."
"That happens as we get closer to 30."
(insert blank stare...)
If you went to a hair stylist, and you were asked to be 15 minutes early then you sat waiting for an hour only to have some other person who looks like a stylist but isn't actually a stylist come wash your hair and set the foils then rinse and prep you for the cut only for your real stylist to come in with the scissors and give you a quick, cold, trim then say "you should probably drink less. did you have any questions for me. OK good. it was nice to meet you. not-stylist will be right in to blow dry and style as you wish." wouldn't that piss you off?
OK. I wasn't pissed, just in awe. Taken aback, if you will.
So, Real Doctor leaves, Not Doctor returns. Monkey sees the TDap and immediately says, "Mommy, I'm not sick. I don't need a shot."
To which I reply, "No baby, the shot is for me."
"Not feelin good huh? It's OK, you're a big girl. Just sit up and take a deep breath."
I Love Monkey!
A quick stab in the arm, didn't feel a thing. I mention that the last time I got a tetanus shot it hurt immediately, like when the horse bit my arm. Serious muscle cramping ache in my arm. This time nothing.
Not Doctor explains that sometimes people hit the wrong spot.
Yesterday, my arm hurt. That horse bite, deep muscle, painful to stretch or reach for things hurt. I went to my girl gym to work out, and my arm cramped up and it was painful to do three of my arm exercises. It still hurts, popcorn and all.
Not Doctor is a liar.
This is not "Thriving".
~cheers!
Monday, November 30, 2009
I Am Thankful For My Family - because we make everyone feel welcome even when we can't stand them.
Happy Holiday Season!
I just enjoyed 4 days of blissful chaos! I'm talking baking, pretending to like my in-laws, shopping, arguing with The Cowboy about how mean his mother is, dancing, drinking, cleaning, telling The Cowboy how to put up Christmas lights, and most importantly... SLEEP!)
I made 3 incredible pies, by hand from scratch with (almost) all home-grown ingredients! Spent some quality time with my family, Thursday night. (which tremendously made up for missing dinner.) Spent an entire paycheck on stuff The Cowboy and I wanted, without actually buying a single Christmas gift, on Friday. Had an amazing date night with my husband, Saturday. Decorated Gram's house, Sunday.
It Was Fabulous!
My in-law suck, but I made it through my first Thanksgiving dinner away from the people I love. Thank GOD we all live in close proximity. I could not imagine having to spend more than a couple of hours at a time with those people.
The lovely woman who birthed my husband constantly refers to his ex-wife, and previous girlfriends. Seriously... we were setting the food out and she was stating where everyone was going to sit for our meal, all of the children were to sit in another room except Pretty Boy, he sat between his father and his grandmother. I was wedged in the corner between Pretty Boy and The Cowboy. Which she so kindly explained was "where we always put the extra person."
So apparently the wedding, and house buying, and my last name matching yours on the check I write you every month so you can pay your bills, doesn't elevate me from "the extra person" to "family" status.
(Bitch.)
I was raised in a family (with manners) where it is polite to take a little bit of everything at Holiday feasts. After you've sampled you go back for a little more of the things you really liked. This pretty much assures that you are going to stuff your face and belly, thus feel like a big fat hog the rest of the evening and well into the next day. I am not so good at going back for seconds. I like to keep my jeans buttoned and I really enjoy the 2 pieces of pie I eat each year. (one at Thanksgiving. one at Christmas.)
Apparently in The Cowboy's family, everyone takes crazy-heaping-helpings of the things they like but they don't actually try or eat everything on the table. So The Cowboy, his parents, sister, and bro-in-law, their 6 kids and my 3 new kids, have piled their plates with un-glodly amounts of like 3 things each, while I enjoyed a sample size portion of everything offered. My plate was covered, but not ready to topple over. Through dinner, Cowboy's father keeps making comments about how much food I had on my plate as though I piled it high and was eating for seven. Truly, I ate less than anyone there! Then he starts asks The Cowboy "How much are you up to now?"
The Cowboy's parents are on this Ionized-Water kick. They spent the last $4000 dollars they had on this water filter machine, hoping that the pyramid scheme would work against the odds and help bring them some income.
(Perhaps if the salesman wasn't a Nazi he could sell something, to someone.)
(Anyone.)
Anyway... They're all bat-shit crazy about drinking at least 8 glasses of Ionized water, everyday, and subsequently they have both dropped like 20 pounds each. I don't see it, but that's what they're claiming. Personally, I drink a couple bottles of water at work then enjoy a little wine or a couple of beers (or whatever.) when I get home. Apparently, (and this might be a shock to some of you.) if you drink a whole bottle of wine, then drink 2 glasses of Ionized Water before you go to bed, you wont have a hangover the next day.
You don't say... (snort!)
Then there's The Cowboy's sister. See, while she has 6 kids, she is pale and emaciated. She seriously looks like she hasn't the strength to hold her newest child for more than a few seconds at a time, and she was dosing off through our "pre-meal" mingling because he blood sugar was low becasue she "forgot" the day before. No one suggested she perhaps eat a little something before dinner, you know, to keep from falling over or passing out! Did I mention she is nursing the newest addition?H
Honestly, who forgets to eat for an entire day? You feed 6 children and it doesn't occur to you to stick some nourishment in your own mouth?
The Cowboy and I are not large people. In the last 2 years we've gone from "single-skinny" to that extra 10 that happens when you get in a comfortable relationship. But we are not, by any means, fat people. His Wranglers are still a 31x38, and I'm... well I'm not a 2 but I'm not a 10.
His parents spent the entirety of our first Thanksgiving, as a family, being just vile. From the food comments, to talking about everything from his ex-wife to "who was the last girl you brought to Thanksgiving? She was lovely." ... I'm not really sure why we were "requested" in the first place.
We are so not going there for Christmas...
~cheers!
I just enjoyed 4 days of blissful chaos! I'm talking baking, pretending to like my in-laws, shopping, arguing with The Cowboy about how mean his mother is, dancing, drinking, cleaning, telling The Cowboy how to put up Christmas lights, and most importantly... SLEEP!)
I made 3 incredible pies, by hand from scratch with (almost) all home-grown ingredients! Spent some quality time with my family, Thursday night. (which tremendously made up for missing dinner.) Spent an entire paycheck on stuff The Cowboy and I wanted, without actually buying a single Christmas gift, on Friday. Had an amazing date night with my husband, Saturday. Decorated Gram's house, Sunday.
It Was Fabulous!
My in-law suck, but I made it through my first Thanksgiving dinner away from the people I love. Thank GOD we all live in close proximity. I could not imagine having to spend more than a couple of hours at a time with those people.
The lovely woman who birthed my husband constantly refers to his ex-wife, and previous girlfriends. Seriously... we were setting the food out and she was stating where everyone was going to sit for our meal, all of the children were to sit in another room except Pretty Boy, he sat between his father and his grandmother. I was wedged in the corner between Pretty Boy and The Cowboy. Which she so kindly explained was "where we always put the extra person."
So apparently the wedding, and house buying, and my last name matching yours on the check I write you every month so you can pay your bills, doesn't elevate me from "the extra person" to "family" status.
(Bitch.)
I was raised in a family (with manners) where it is polite to take a little bit of everything at Holiday feasts. After you've sampled you go back for a little more of the things you really liked. This pretty much assures that you are going to stuff your face and belly, thus feel like a big fat hog the rest of the evening and well into the next day. I am not so good at going back for seconds. I like to keep my jeans buttoned and I really enjoy the 2 pieces of pie I eat each year. (one at Thanksgiving. one at Christmas.)
Apparently in The Cowboy's family, everyone takes crazy-heaping-helpings of the things they like but they don't actually try or eat everything on the table. So The Cowboy, his parents, sister, and bro-in-law, their 6 kids and my 3 new kids, have piled their plates with un-glodly amounts of like 3 things each, while I enjoyed a sample size portion of everything offered. My plate was covered, but not ready to topple over. Through dinner, Cowboy's father keeps making comments about how much food I had on my plate as though I piled it high and was eating for seven. Truly, I ate less than anyone there! Then he starts asks The Cowboy "How much are you up to now?"
The Cowboy's parents are on this Ionized-Water kick. They spent the last $4000 dollars they had on this water filter machine, hoping that the pyramid scheme would work against the odds and help bring them some income.
(Perhaps if the salesman wasn't a Nazi he could sell something, to someone.)
(Anyone.)
Anyway... They're all bat-shit crazy about drinking at least 8 glasses of Ionized water, everyday, and subsequently they have both dropped like 20 pounds each. I don't see it, but that's what they're claiming. Personally, I drink a couple bottles of water at work then enjoy a little wine or a couple of beers (or whatever.) when I get home. Apparently, (and this might be a shock to some of you.) if you drink a whole bottle of wine, then drink 2 glasses of Ionized Water before you go to bed, you wont have a hangover the next day.
You don't say... (snort!)
Then there's The Cowboy's sister. See, while she has 6 kids, she is pale and emaciated. She seriously looks like she hasn't the strength to hold her newest child for more than a few seconds at a time, and she was dosing off through our "pre-meal" mingling because he blood sugar was low becasue she "forgot" the day before. No one suggested she perhaps eat a little something before dinner, you know, to keep from falling over or passing out! Did I mention she is nursing the newest addition?H
Honestly, who forgets to eat for an entire day? You feed 6 children and it doesn't occur to you to stick some nourishment in your own mouth?
The Cowboy and I are not large people. In the last 2 years we've gone from "single-skinny" to that extra 10 that happens when you get in a comfortable relationship. But we are not, by any means, fat people. His Wranglers are still a 31x38, and I'm... well I'm not a 2 but I'm not a 10.
His parents spent the entirety of our first Thanksgiving, as a family, being just vile. From the food comments, to talking about everything from his ex-wife to "who was the last girl you brought to Thanksgiving? She was lovely." ... I'm not really sure why we were "requested" in the first place.
We are so not going there for Christmas...
~cheers!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Pulling The Plug
"Maybe not all friendships are meant to be saved. Maybe we're meant to spend a certain part of our lives with certain people -and move on..."
I came across this quote in Status Shuffle on Facebook. It is so true and appropraite for today. Some people, no matter how good of a time you had with them, no matter what your past shares, just have to be let go. When it is undelialby obvious that a friendship has become one sides, it's probably time to take it off life support.
~cheers!
I came across this quote in Status Shuffle on Facebook. It is so true and appropraite for today. Some people, no matter how good of a time you had with them, no matter what your past shares, just have to be let go. When it is undelialby obvious that a friendship has become one sides, it's probably time to take it off life support.
~cheers!
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