Just a moment ago Buttercup was looking at me curiously. Then she stated, "Mama, when your hair is in a ponytale you look ugly. But when it is fixed and down it is pretty. You should fix your hair."
And that pretty much sums up the last several months. Now your curiousity is satisfied, and I will go back to trying to forget that I am pregnant. For the time being.
So at this point in my pregnancy I really don't care how much tv my kids watch to entertain themselves. I'm just grateful the tv exists at all. I'm too sick and listless to help the munchkins to do anything productive, so honestly I don't think Barney is going to damage them more than if they spent their time watching me puke.
I wonder what women did in the "olden days" when they were expecting their umpteenth child and they felt like crap. I betcha those poor women would have killed for a television to keep the children occupied. I can just see it now:
"Ma! Ma! I'm bored! Feed me!"
"Ugh, just go milk the cow again Jeb.... and pull little Hester out of the pig pen on your way...."
Yes, my life is pretty much a nightmare at the moment--but at least I have a couch, jello, and a huge jug of clean water to sip from every five minutes. And a Barney dvd that has a "continuous play" option.
So here it is folks. I have nothing to blog about that isn't too private to share with the world wide web. Solution? Make my life un-private and deal with the results. (Hey, I have to vent somewhere...)
You know that thing I've been hoping and wishing and thinking and praying for? It happened! And now that the hurdle has been... hurdled, there has been much rejoicing in the land. (Example: squealing, crying, day dreaming, planning, calculating, and looking up as much information as possible even though I have pretty much been there before.)
To sum up, I have been happy, happy, happy, happy, happy. For about a week and a half. I have to admit I knew the yucky nastiness was coming--but I just wanted to be happy and not think about it. And yet here I am, smiling inside and grimacing on the outside. So if you happen to see me within the next three months, and it strikes you that I am looking pale, sickly, constipated, or nauseous--I AM. Just know that underneath it all is a huge, cheesy, out-of-this-world-happy grin.
Charming and I have officially changed "Our Song" from Josh Groban's When You Say You Love Me to--wait for it--Tribute by Tenacious D.
I don't know, it's just so much more us as of late. Let me know what you think. If you listen closely there's sort of a romantic side to it...
Edit: Charming has just informed me that our song has always been Annie's Song by John Denver. I always liked that song... Maybe Charming and I need to get together more often.
As of late I have been constantly writing blog posts in my head, with the idea that sooner or later (sooner rather than later) I would actually put these thoughts on the screen. Funny enough, once I accomplish my "head blog", I feel fulfilled enough from my train of thought to forget about actually posting. Today I want to actually get my thoughts down so they can become officially known to the internet and my posterity (if they ever bother with it).
The last six months of my life have been changing ones for me. I started out with many expectations of what my immediate future would hold, and then I pretty much demanded the universe to grant my requests. An attitude like that rarely gets you far, and this is where the Lord stepped in to teach me a long awaited lesson. The thought of "being taught a lesson" is usually not very appealing, but I have found to the contrary that the lessons, the knowledge, the understanding, and the enlightenment are incredible gifts I hope I will never be without.
Have the things I expected finally been granted me? No--but in return I have been given far more than I asked. I feel as though I'm swimming in blessings and happiness that I never knew before how to touch. My burden is lighter, my heart is bigger, my capacity to love is stronger. I am learning to listen and learn and enjoy life as it is presented to me. I have motivation to do and be things I never thought I would find the will for.
Yes, I still yearn and hope and pray for the experiences and the blessings I am without, but in the meantime my life is full and complete. I am playing with my children, reading stories, going on walks, cooking meals, organizing and decorating, teaching, having deep conversations, pondering and praying, gardening, making goals, learning, listening to beautiful music, smelling (the actual) flowers, and laughing because it feels good. In short, I am happy.
So yes, I'm back. At least for today. It's been about five weeks since I blogged last and my mind is about to explode with random thoughts for the unknown public to read. Here are a few for your perusal:
I swear estrogen is dripping off the walls of this house. Buttercup cries at the drop of a hat as if she's menstruating, and both little princesses insist on changing their outfits (along with shoes, scarves, purses, jewelery, and other accessories) at least five times a day.
Why do the good people of North Dakota continually drive five miles under the speed limit? I never would have called myself a Utah driver--but when a lady in a Taurus with two babies in the back goes whizzing by all the traffic on the freeway, there is no other explanation.
I LOVE my husband. Bless his soul if I could do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing. Not only does the man still give me flutters when he walks through the door everyday, he loves me and takes care of me like I'm THE queen. I'm so thrilled with this whole physical therapist thing because shoot, Charming is smokin' in a pair of dockers and a button-up collared shirt (with the sleeves rolled up all temptingly like he's really just a rustic mountain man underneath). Oh, and he made me a fabulous chocolate cake (his own recipe mind you) for mother's day. This man knows what love is.
"Little House on the Prairie" (the tv series), has turned into a very unsatisfying soap opera for me as of late. I was bestowed with all 9 seasons for Christmas, and now what can I say? Will Laura and Almanzo ever stop bickering and just get to the romancing already? I mean I understand it's a family show and all, but good golly, if they can address issues like rape, murder, and death, I think we could deal with a little sweet-talking and a soulful kiss or two. (Yes, I know, I'm a loser. Moving on.)
I have committed a domestic sin and bought (for a few weeks in a row now) ready-made meals for my family. It was yummy.
I have gone from obsessing about household cleanliness--such as sweeping the floors three times a day and scrubbing toilets for fun--to beginning to comb through summer clothes put in storage for my girls, and dropping the whole project winding up with sundresses strewn all over the house by my precious little angels. Odd. Maybe I'm bipolar. I won't look into that though--I'll probably just end up taking another non-helpful expensive test/procedure.
Better Homes and Gardens magazine is my new bible. I've actually begun tearing out pages of my favorite things and consequently had to make a "Home Decor" file in my cabinet.
I actually spent more than half of my birthday money on "home decor". Crazy sauce. And does my house look any cuter? Not for me to judge...
Buttercup has officially banned the word "cute". Apparently anything "cute" is a little girl thing and she is now in the "big girl" category. Why was I never informed that adolescence began at four years old? They should have trained us for this in all those prenatal classes I had to attend (you know, in between the "How to latch on" and "Go to your happy place when it hurts like the devil" chats).
No really, I was serious. Please stop hitting on Livvy. (Plus is makes Jayni feel bad.)
I went running the other day. I should have had a photo shoot for a special scrapbook page because I don't think that's ever going to happen again.
Last night Charming helped me concoct an avocado hair mask (thank you BHG magazine!) at 10:30 at night. He then applied it to my entire head and actually seemed to be enjoying himself. I just wanted some chips for dipping with.
I AM going to color my hair. If I keep chanting this maybe it will happen. Don't worry, I will still be a formerblonde.
It's been weeks since I've read an entire book. Something must be wrong. Or maybe I just need to get through Little House.
How do you respond when your two-year-old is continually yelling at everyone around her "Don't SAY that!" I just end up saying "Don't SAY that!" right back at her and then we're going in circles. I hate being outwitted by a small child.
Did I mention that Charming is growing his hair out just for me? This is how I know the guy loves me--it's a weird Edward fetish. Don't mock me, just feel privileged that I let you in on the strange inner workings of my mind.
Today I was wishing I had learned to play the violin. Odd. I can't even play the piano competently.
I am really looking forward to my Jane Austen tour of England when I'm.... well when I'm older and have money. Apparently that is important when you want to sleep in a castle in the British countryside.
Hopefully you'll be hearing from me again soon. That is all.
To all males 19 years of age and older: Please take a good long look at this girl, my sister, named Mary Olivia. Alias: Livvy
Now as you wipe the drool off your face, please note that this girl is just that: a little girl. Not a woman or a "young single adult" or even a Laurel. She is but 15 years of age, and although of mature mind and body, she is too young for you.
So yes, I understand that she's the cutest girl at the party--of course she is, she's had 4 older sisters to teach her the arts of full-blown femininity and womanly wiles. I understand she looks and behaves sophisticated (although I doubt she even knows what that word means), and she's just the kind of girl who would charm you with her infectious laugh and that your mother would adore. I also understand that she is virtuous, lovely, of good report, and praiseworthy--but please don't seek after her until after her 18th birthday, which will occur January 2012.
It would be worth the wait. But until then STOP HITTING ON HER. It's getting a bit ridiculous.
I tossed and turned last night in bed, lost in one of those awful dreams where you can't accomplish your purpose. You know--like when you want to run away and you're stuck, or you need to dial 911 and you just can't seem to get the sequence right. Well last night my plight of pity was bra shopping and trying desperately to find the right size.
I remember pilfering feverishly through racks and racks of all different types of bras, finally narrowing them down to a nice white padded bra. But oh dear me I couldn't find my size! They had every size imaginable of this particular bra except for mine. I was throwing stuff off shelves when finally the sales lady came to give me a hand and asked if she could measure me. (I'm used to this sort of awesome treatment because, and here's a confession--I only bra shop at Victoria's Secret. Makes a girl feel nice, inside and out. Ah-hem. Moving on.) I lifted up my arms obediently and rolled my eyes like "Again! You'd think a girl would know her bra size." But then the most amazing thing happened. The sales clerk/braziermeasurer expert royally dubbed me a 32 D.
So. Happy.
I had officially gone from average circumference and volume to trim and well-endowed! Needless to say there were plenty of bras in that size around the store, and many on clearance--because, let's face it, not very many people are blessed with my figure. (And after nursing two babies too!)
So what does all this mean? I vote for meaningless, but I bet you could come up with something much better than that, probably a horrific background story involving my adolescence and a date gone wrong. Let me know what you come up with.
On a related note, here's a big bra for you:
Also one more thing to destroy your day: Whenever you hear the beautiful classic song Edelweiss from The Sound of Music, think of your bra. It'll put a smile to your face and ruin that special song for you forever!
Yesterday was quite the adventure for me. It was all mixed up with a lot of crazy, hilarious, and I'm-gonna-cry-if-one-more-thing-happens-to-me type stuff.
It all began in the wee hours when my body remembered how much it hates me. I spent the rest of the night moaning in the fetal position and cursing woman's curse (is that right? can you curse a curse?). The inevitable leg-aches followed accompanied by increased moaning and cursing. Normally at this point I would go for some serious Advil, but an upcoming surgery (yes, I said surgery--gives me chills, but probably not that big a deal) has prohibited me from taking all kinds of relieving medications.
Anywho, Charming eventually had to leave for some thing or other where he learns how to be a physical therapist bla-bla-bla, and the man forgot to say goodbye to me, which deprived me of my moment to remind him to drive safely. Because (as all you married women know) husbands are known to forget to drive safe unless their wives beg them to every morning. You know--to help them to think of their family while they're taking those sharp turns on icy corners and such. So in the mean time there I was huddled in bed in pain and telling myself not to have a panic attack while I imagined all kinds of horrific roadside scenes, all involving Charming (who also forgot to take the cell phone, so I could see him stranded and trying to walk for help in the middle of the North Dakota wasteland and falling into a snow drift in exhaustion and then slowly freezing to death--all because I didn't remind him to be safe).
Inevitably the small children woke up, and finding me still in bed (no, I was not lazy, just in pain), they saw their freedom for what it was and the house became a free-for-all. Lou Lou climbed all over me and I hardly even noticed, I was too busy hugging the heating pad. Finally the girls started saying things like "Mama, I'm hungry." or "Thirsty Mama!" No mother in the world can resist this kind of supplication for long, so I was soon up and nourishing the children. As I put Lou Lou into her seat, I noticed that she had scribbled with a pen all over her cute, although non-chubby thighs. I pointed it out to her and she nodded enthusiastically, while Buttercup noted out loud that Lou Lou's body was no longer a temple because she had scribbled on it. (I love those little moments that prove FHE is sinking in.) I sighed and trudged off to do the dishes, when I looked down, and noticed that Lou Lou had not only defiled her own temple, she had pretty much done a spray-paint job on mine. She had colored all up and down my arm and I hadn't even noticed.
I was still trying not to panic about the whole Charming-on-the-side-of-the-road-thing, when the phone rang and it was Charming himself saying to keep an eye on the news since the Missouri River was flooding and people all over the city were sandbagging and evacuating. Although relieved to find that Charming had survived his jaunt down the road, this turn of events was not good for my psyche. I figured we were fine, but kept checking the tv periodically. I thought if we had to evacuate in a hurry, what would I do? What would I save? What should I do at this very moment? The answer was simple: do the dishes. There was no way I was going to leave my house dirty--I just couldn't handle the thought.
As the morning progressed I began receiving worried phone calls from friends asking if I was all right. Finally someone called to say that reports were that we were to leave the area and go to higher ground. That was enough for me. Pretty much this was the sound I heard in my head for the next several minutes:
BWAAAAAAAAAAA!!!
I was a cross of an insane, panicky woman thinking of the how-to-survive book I read last month and Mrs. Beaver from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, wondering if I ought to bring the jam, or in my case--the bread, because heck, I made it, and I didn't want it to rot! Outwardly I was fine--just running up and down the stairs, moving things I really didn't want to get wet and throwing stuff in suitcases. While doing all this I was on the phone trying to get a hold of Charming, who was in a hospital basement somewhere blissfully helping some poor soul with their physical therapy needs. The man didn't have a cell phone so I just called the hospital and made them page him while I continued running around.
The girls in the mean time were excited to leave and go play somewhere else. Soon enough Charming made it home (much more calm than me--of course), and we high-tailed it to a friend's house safely located "on higher ground". We stayed there for a peaceful afternoon watching barbie movies and relaxing until we received word that all was probably well. So we went on home again, still on the alert that we should "be ready to evacuate at a moment's notice". So yeah, pretty much we were fine but I was still a tad tense.
Life must have been back to normal because I was already worrying about what to make for dinner. But then I decided on chocolate chip cookies; so yeah, it wasn't normal yet. This decision created much celebration in the children department and for once Buttercup ate all her dinner. I asked her if she wanted some spaghetti for a treat as a reward, and she became very upset. Children are so ungrateful these days...
The evening wound down with the girlies going to bed and Charming and I cuddling on the couch watching American Idol and just enjoying being together. We went to bed at 10:30--super early for us. As I slipped in between the sheets and snuggled into my pillow, my sigh of content turned into a sneer.
Lou Lou had also scribbled on my pillow. My beautiful ivory 500-thread-count pillow case.
Oh well, Charming laughed and we both went to sleep. Not so bad of a day. I survived it and I got cookies.
So this morning at breakfast, Buttercup looked deep in thought. I gave her a smile to encourage her to speak. She sighed, looked at me with furrowed brows, and said:
"Mama, can you tell me all about... the devil?"
(Insert creepy panic music here).
Yes, my precious little princess was spending her solitude pondering the workings of Satan. I shuddered and glanced around the room nervously, then asked her what she meant. She continued, "Why does he want to make little girls and boys be naughty?"
Something akin to a Sunday School lesson followed, ending with the two of us singing "I Lived in Heaven". I was relieved to note that Buttercup seemed to be leaning toward Jesus's team.
Just close your eyes and listen to the distinct sound......
of a young piglet squealing and grunting relentlessly.
This is the sound I have been dealing with the last three or four days. Lou Lou has officially abandoned all reason, and also apparently her vocabulary, for piglet-like squeals to communicate all her emotions, desires, and needs.
So the last five years or so have been dramatic for me in the whole "body weight/happy self image area". Just before that time I was traipsing around college, feeling comfortable enough in my own skin when WHAM! Suddenly I'm engaged (well there's more to it than that, but let's not get into it here), freaking out and realizing that I've got to lose about 10-15 pounds FAST! I immediately put myself on what my cousin Joseph has dubbed the "See Me Naked Diet", and fasted myself down to a hot-to-trot size for my wedding and *cough cough* honeymoon.
But you know, a girl like me can't stay small forever (I have a love/hate relationship with food). My new father-in-law bestowed upon Charming and I a joyfully large jar of his secret recipe chocolate truffle sauce. I know. We totally didn't stand a chance. I honestly believe that I gained 20 pounds within the first four months of my marriage--that's almost more than one pound a week! What can I say? Charming and I were living a life of pure pleasure.
Still, I had terrific plans for that summer to get in shape while Charming and I lived in California while he was installing satellite systems. After all, what was I going to do with all that spare time? I accomplished two big things that summer, and neither of them was losing weight. Number 1 was I learned how to cook; a fabulous skill mind you, but not handy in the weight loss department. Number 2 I. got. pregnant. And then my entire world fell apart. Please know, this was a planned pregnancy, not that it's any of your business, but I've found that people are often curious. However, I didn't plan on being nasty sick for 4 months and only being able to hold down sugary, fatty foods. After the main nausea went away all I had to do to keep it at arm's length was to keep my stomach full. Very full. So full that it didn't just go straight to my hips but it went straight everywhere. I think it's safe to say I gained about sixty pounds before the baby was born. Yich. Might as well crumple up my self-esteem and throw it in the trash.
After motherhood struck I still had high hopes for getting rid of all that "baby weight" (more like pizza, chocolate shakes, and apple pie weight--I mean good grief, the baby only weighed 7 lbs. I guess I was hoping for a sixty pound baby...). I hoped and hoped and hoped. I hoped so much that I did early morning aerobics for about three weeks before PPD set in too strong for me to get out of bed. So I continued to live my life and hope that somehow that nasty weight would drop the heck off my bottom and help an anorexic or something.
AND THEN....tada! I was pregnant again! (Yes, also planned.) Luckily I was already so overweight I just kind of lingered around my starting weight. I maybe gained about 10 pounds overall--which, on top of what I was already carrying, seemed like no big deal. And then the baby came out and she was only 7 lbs too! (Somebody in heaven, throw me a bone.)
Hallelujah for my mother who offered to sign me up for WeightWatchers online. It gave me the boost and real hope I needed to get moving. It took me a super long time, lots of sweat and tears (the tears were a result of all the chocolate I wasn't eating), but I once again became Megs, comfortable in my own skin and with who I am. YAY!
But now for the last year I've still had that love/hate relationship with my food. I'm constantly working out, but apparently it's not enough for my body to love me (see here). I'm doing my best to live healthy and I think I'm doing an okay job. But I'm still yo-yoing here and there. It just feels like I have an appetite that won't be quenched. For years I've referred to myself as the bottomless pit--I can eat and eat and eat and only regret about six hours later for about five minutes. But on to happier thoughts...
Lately I've started two new medications that have had an interesting affect on my appetite. The first makes most foods seem disgusting (unless of course it's fatty or full of sugar). The second has strangely decreased my appetite (who knew it was possible?) and yet somehow has given me a nice full-perkiness in my womanly areas. I honestly think that without even trying I have lost about 4-5 pounds in the last two months (well, I guess I have been trying, but just doing the same ol' thing). Hurray! Now my only issue is, even though I get full super quick, if I do happen to like the food I've been eating, I'll just continue to feast until my plate is clear, or the pan is clear, or whatever. And then I'll feel very sick the rest of the day. Geesh--you'd think WeightWatchers had taught me more control than that--and that I'd take better advantage of such a situation?!
I'm working on it, I really am. Problem today is that I got home from a morning jaunt to the library famished, and proceeded to devour the leftover Chinese Chicken Salad from last night. The thing about salads is you think they don't matter, or count, or whatever. So of course I ate most the entire thing (hey--gotta leave something for Charming!) and now I feel sick.
Oh well. It was delicious. You should all partake.
My sister Jayni set up a cooking blog (yes, I know, another cooking blog, but this one is awesome! Or will be awesome when it gets going. The link is here, and also on the sidebar--Baking With Belle) for a class and made me a co-poster. The plan is to have a new post everyday, with different authors posting weekly. I love the idea because I've always got something new I've tried and want to share with the world, or some kind of an old favorite recipe that will change your life as you know it.
I've just posted the Chinese Chicken Salad recipe today and I'm pestering Jayni about setting the rest up. GOT THAT JAYNI? FINISH SETTING UP YOUR BLOG ALREADY SO PEOPLE CAN ENJOY THE DELICIOUSNESS!!!
I hope you all enjoyed my five-year weight loss history. Now I'll just go hide in a corner and be embarrassed because I've realized I probably said too much again.
There. I said it. Stupid, stupid, stupid place! Why would anyone choose to live in this frozen, barren, wasteland? There is nothing beautiful here, nothing noteworthy or of interest--at least, nothing noteworthy or of interest to me.
When you ask a local what the heck there is to do around here, they respond that "There's always Mount Rushmore". Let me remind the masses that Mount Rushmore is in South Dakota--a completely different state and about a seven hour drive from where I live.
I woke up on this March day, hoping to see some signs of warmth, or even just life outside. I wasn't expecting to go on a picnic or let my kids run through the sprinklers, I was just looking for a glimmer of hope.
But no. Of course not. OF COURSE IT WAS THIRTEEN DEGREES BELOW ZERO!!!
Hell has officially frozen over. It's a little place I like to call home...but only for one. more. year. (Insert evil smile here).
(PR disclaimer: The people in North Dakota are lovely. I mean no offense towards you or your homeland. I just hate this place.)
So I'm super excited for reasons that all parents, and even non-parents, can completely understand! Drumroll please.....
BUTTERCUP CAN NOW OFFICIALLY WIPE HER OWN BOTTOM!
What can I say? I just got tired of doing it. I looked at her yesterday and thought, "You know what? The kid's almost 4 years old. Let her clean up her own dirty work."
At first the little princess was chagrined. She's used to sitting on her throne and doing her duty without reaping the consequences. Well I let her know that from now on, she can take care of her own kingdom! She whined a little more and sat on her throne a bit longer, but finally realized her "kingdom" needed to be wiped before she could continue with her princessing.
All is well. All is well.
Now all I have to do is convince Lou Lou that sitting on the potty is way better than squatting in a corner...
EDIT: Just to make it clear, Buttercup has been potty trained since she was 2 1/2 years old. She just hasn't liked to wipe her bum when necessary...
So yes, I am one of those bloggers who always says they want to blog more and then they don't blog for weeks at a time and then come back and say "Tada! This is your lucky day--I'm BLOGGING AGAIN!"
The last few weeks have been somewhat stressful for me and when I get stressed I tend to drop something. Usually it is the laundry and there are piles of clothes all over the house that need to be folded up and put away, but strangely enough ALL of my laundry is done. Washed. Folded. Put away in drawers. I've also vacuumed this week (I know, who invaded megs' body?) and have zealously swept the kitchen floor everyday. I've cooked delicious dinners and read stories to my children. You'd think I was nesting or something--but let me be the first to assure you that I am not pregnant (to my monthly chagrin).
But. BUT. I have dropped the whole spending-time-on-the-computer-in-order-to-fill-my-hormotional-days-with-false-joy-and-meaning thing.
It's kind of strange--I thought I was addicted to the computer and keeping in touch with friends. But it's been nice to have a bit of a break from my online self and be present with my family. As I am therapeutically spewing all this out onto the computer screen, I see that all of this is really quite a positive thing, not really the "I've-dropped-the-ball" issue I thought it was. And yet I will say it again: I love to blog and I wish I did it more. Perhaps I will. Now you can all stop rolling your eyes and cheer me on. I can hear all of your millions (haha) of enthusiastic whisper-screams echoing in the distance: "Go Megs! You're amazing! You can blog! We can't survive without your endless wit and randomness and somewhat-complaining every once in a while! WE LOVE YOU!!!"
A girl can dream can't she?
Okay. I have another blog coming up soon, but I thought the masses could use a break from my verbal prowess for a few hours.
So this morning the whole gang got to eat breakfast together since Charming is out of school for the week. I cheerily whipped up some scrambled eggs and called in the troops for feeding.
Lou Lou dutifully came to be buckled into her high chair, and Buttercup ran in screaming (with a slight smile on her face). Charming followed close behind crawling on all fours pretending to be a bear. I very sweetly told him to knock it off and come sit up to the table.
Rather than quiet down for the blessing on the food, Buttercup continued the game, but instead of screaming and running she became the predator, roaring fearfully with a death look in her eyes. Charming, with his head bowed, arms folded, and eyes closed, began a menacing growl deep in his chest that filled the room with the threat of an imminent attack. He peered at Buttercup like she was something to eat, and her lip trembled. She pled, "No Daddy! Be a frightened small child!"
I think she's learned her lesson? And I've learned that my sweet little girls are learning no mercy, not even for small children like themselves.
Why do you hate me? It is a question I have been longing to ask throughout the years, ever since I noticed the continuity of really ugly, loud, repetitive frog-like hiccups and torturous periods.
Did you not see what a sweet toddler I was? Instead you cursed me with nightly leg-aches that plague me to this day (and then decided to pass them on to dear, sweet Buttercup I might add). You filled my teenage years with acne and klutzyness. Why do you still insist on daily stubbing my toe and kunging my elbow on a passing wall/dresser/lamp? It would be nice if once in awhile you would kindly do your job and send my brain a signal that my limbs are so long and there are big objects obstructing my path and thus my arm/leg/head/hip perhaps ought to move over a bit to make room.
I have tried so hard to be kind to you--reaching out to you with the hand of friendship by doing endless step-aerobics, washing my face nightly, and eating vegetables. But those gestures of love you have thrown back in my face like a slap. What was with those terrible pregnancies and the so-not-necessary extra weight gain? Why?
I will never give up, because that would mean the war is over and you have won. But I do have a small request for you. It shouldn't be too difficult to handle. When you decide to smite me with a physical abnormality/disease/bothersome random symptoms, could you please make it clear what the actual underlying problem is? I'm really sick of these guessing games, so really it would help us both out if you could just be open and honest. And then give the doctors proof that I'm not a hypochondriac the next time they decide to do an expensive test/procedure.
Body, I know we've had some rough times, but we could start over and begin a new relationship right now if you're willing to cooperate. I want to love you. Please trust me. Please stop the madness.
First of all, thank you to those of you brave enough to vote on my blog background. I actually have a site meter, and so I can see how many hits my blog gets a day and where they come from--not exactly who you are, so it's not super stockery. Anywho, the point is that I know more people visit this blog than the amount that actually comment or participate in polls. That's fine if you wish to remain anonymous, but seriously, I highly doubt I would be creeped out by your blog-stocking, rather I would be flattered by your interest. So, if you're up to it, make yourself known!
So (obviously) I did pick a new background that I feel very comfortable with. It's casual, cute, and not over-the-top--kind of like me. I always like to be presentable but in a cute and casual way. Still, you'll be hard-pressed to find me with glitzy jewelery; simple earrings and maybe a bracelet to church are about as far as I go. Those things are attention-attracters, and I'd rather my jewelery or my hair or whatever not become the focus of people's thoughts. I suppose my ultimate goal in dressing up etc. would be for people to subconsciously approve of me and then move on. For example--if someone tells you how beautiful your makeup is, that might actually be a clue that you have on too much makeup. Just the fact that your makeup has made it's way into the forefront of another person's thoughts should tell you that it's a bit overdone. Makeup should beautify and enhance one's features, not create what is not there originally.
Wow, that was a diatribe. I feel that now I have blogged once again I have several things that may or may not be of interest to all of you who compose the elusive internet. I think my main issues are 1) I have personal issues going on that distract me from fun day-to-day things. This obviously needs to change in order for me to enjoy the little things in life, which tend to make up the bulk of life's enjoyments. And 2) I believe I have a slight fear, or perhaps shyness is the correct word, of boring my friends, family, and random strangers to death. My new goal is to not over-analyze before I blog. Rather, I am going to enjoy the process (hopefully). We'll see how it goes.
Much love to all--friends and stalkers alike!
EDIT: I just remembered a wonderful compliment a friend of mine sent me on facebook this week. She told me how nice I looked at church and she liked my hair. I wanted to clarify (especially to her if she is reading this) that her words gave me warm fuzzies and made my day. I was in no way referring to her compliment when I was talking about people noticing your hair or makeup. Love ya! That is all.
I've been deliberating for the last 15 minutes if I wanted to blog. I mean, all signs point to Yes! You haven't blogged in over a week Megs! But guess what?
I.
Don't.
Care.
I suppose that statement could be somewhat misleading--indeed, I wish I cared. I wish that I had several entertaining blogs ready to spring on the world. Truth be told, there have been some flickers of ideas where I think, "Ah! I should totally blog about that." But then the moment passes and it's gone.
To sum up, I have lost the motivation to blog. I promise this is a temporary disease--because I love blogging, it's so fun--I just need the proper motivation to spit out my random thoughts. So there you go, my blogging about not blogging. Now next time, perhaps I will concentrate this energy into an actual post.
So today I went to the doctor for an issue I've been dealing with for some time. Actually, it's an issue that has been checked over by the doctor before, with tests done and the whole works. In my previous experience after my complete checkup I was told "Despite all of our high-tech expensive tests and procedures, we don't know what's wrong with you. But whatever it is, it doesn't seem to be hurting you too much so just deal with it".... or something that sounded a whole lot similar in my head.
The "issue/problem" has progressed recently and made me anxious (see previous post) so I went back to visit the doctor. Although apparently she had my entire medical history right there on a clip board in front of her, the nurse asked me all the same questions I had been asked previously and made me fill out a questionnaire I swear I had filled out the last time I graced their office. She then informed me that one of those expensive tests/procedures needed to be done, and after some protesting I gave in.
Finally the doctor came in and performed the expensive test/procedure, all while asking me the same questions the nurse had just asked 10 minutes before. Goodness, couldn't the woman have taken one minute to peek at the infamous clipboard that contains all my medical history during the 10 minute interval I had to sit in a very unappealing gown that was precariously velcroed together around.... around me?
At the completion of this expensive test/procedure the doctor said she was interested in performing yet another expensive test/procedure to just "take a peek" and see "what's going on". I informed the good doctor that that expensive test/procedure had already been done to me and with no interesting results. She smiled sweetly and informed me again that she'd "like to take a peek"--who knows, something might have changed! I sighed and traipsed over into the special room where I received the next expensive test/procedure.
Eventually I ended up back in the original room with the doctor, who informed me that my test came out perfect and there was nothing interesting to learn from it. I already knew that--see above. Seeing my frustration with her lack of helpful new information or ideas, she then suggested yet another previously performed expensive test/procedure. I again informed her that I had already had that expensive test/procedure and it had come out fine. She believed me. Yay!
With a sigh the doctor informed me that "Despite all of our high-tech expensive tests and procedures, we don't know what's wrong with you. But whatever it is, it doesn't seem to be hurting you too much so just deal with it. If the problem continues, please come back in a few months and we'll see what we can do." ...(or something that sounded a lot similar to that). Not on your life--I can definitely see a pattern forming here.
I drove home feeling like I had just been to the auto-mechanic (not that I've ever actually been to the auto-mechanic, that's Charming's job:P). I went in to have the specialists figure out what was wrong with one particular thing, and somehow I left with unnecessarily rotated tires and brand-new brakes! Do you ever feel like you get the whole run through at the doctor's office? Like they're not listening to what you're saying or interested in anything beyond their own limited ideas and expensive tests and procedures? So. Frustrated.
Today I am dealing with blogging issues. You may notice my new background. I hate it. The lines going across the page make it difficult to read. I was just trying it out to see what I thought about the general design when thecutestblogontheblock.com crashed again. Geesh! Can they stay open long enough for me to find a background? Anywho, I had to go and customize everything different so that my blog could be legible during this temporary situation.
I am having a hard time figuring out what kind of background I want. What do you think? Backgrounds are like blogger homes, they give you a feeling of what kind of house you've entered--a happy family house? party-girl nsync lover house? too lazy to make it cute house? ultracreative I'm-a-scrapbooker-house? laid back and happy in the sunshine house? I don't know--I hate these kind of defining-moment decisions. My style is very much simple, clean-cut, but with enough "umph", or style, or class, or whatever to make an impression. Maybe I should move away from this idea and be bold--you know, like those people who buy orange leather couches for their white carpeted living room (please don't say you like that idea, it just made me throw up in my mouth). Feel free to submit your opinion in the poll to the right.
So I've noticed lately that many of my posts (or just regular sentences for that matter) begin with "So". So what? Just pointing out that I'm aware of this idiosyncrasy and I don't plan to change it soon. "So" just seems like a nice, casual way to start a sentence--things flow better with so. I don't do it on purpose, it just flows from me like the universe was meant to be this way.
You may have noticed that my blog background can very well be described as "blech". I am also aware if this. My favorite blog background supplier is apparently everybody else's favorite as well because their service has been down for about a week. So after about 2.5 minutes of heavy internet searching, I found that no other site can offer what thecutestblogontheblock.com can. By the time this monumental discovery was made I had messed around with the template enough to have permanently deleted the cutesy Christmas ornament background I had going on. So now we're just back to blogger blah--but have no fear, the problem will soon be remedied (I hope and pray).
I'm not sure if I have ever stated the point of my blog here on the blog itself. I'm not positive what a reader's opinion of it might be. I know it isn't overly thematic--more random than anything else. Some might think this is a Mormon Mommy blog or maybe a fun way for a SAHM to keep connected with her friends. Although I'm sure many of my posts come across this way, the blog's true purpose has been to serve as my personal prescription against boredom, stir-craziness, and a need to spout my thoughts, ideas, or whatever it is that is on my mind to someone or something besides small children. That's not really something you can put as a header to welcome browsers to your domain, but nevertheless--I think that's the general idea. I simply need something in the universe to listen, even if it is just a blank screen. Fortunately for you (wink wink) it all gets to be posted on the World Wide Web for your perusal and entertainment.
So please forgive me if I spout and it seems a little whiny or ranty. It's therapeutic for me. Here goes:
Actually I've just sat here for the last 4 minutes trying to find a way to say what I'm thinking about feeling without coming across whiny and losing readers. Give me your confidence--or maybe just give me your therapist, I could probably use one. Okay now here goes.
There are some things in life that I've planned and hoped for believing that they will come easily. Lately one of those things has, perhaps, turned out not to be the case. Notice the perhaps--luckily it's there, but at the moment all I feel is doom settling around me in regards to this thing I have planned and hoped for. Lately I have felt strongly that I must be suffering from great anxiety--Charming thinks I ought to get "real help" if you know what I mean. I worry over things normal people sigh about and then forget. I worry to the point of making myself sick. I've received great speeches of hope and trust and faith from loved ones, but I still worry about potential car wrecks, illnesses, and financial problems. This affliction doesn't cover all areas of my life, but it does enough for me to spend part of every day in extreme worry and anxiousness. I will continue planning and hoping, but in the mean time I'm sure I will continue worrying and fretting.
Okay here's some real whining: I'm sick. Don't you hate being sick? I do. Okay now I'll just go take some Sudafed. Dang I forgot we're out. Whiiiiiiiiine.
Now I've probably lost all 9 of my readers. (Shoot, and just when the numbers were starting to go up.) Meh, I'm sure Jayni and Jaction will stay loyal. Feel free to pledge your loyalty in the comments.
Now as you wipe the drool off your face, please note that this girl is just that: a little girl. Not a woman or a "young single adult" or even a Laurel. She is but 15 years of age, and although of mature mind and body, she is too young for you.
