If You Are Pretty and You Know It Clap Your Hands!

Today's blog will consist of low fat dressing and self image. They do go together don't they?

Remember the lady in the salad dressing commercial that sits down to have lunch with her girlfriends? A salad is placed before her, she passes on the dressing she is offered. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a bottle of fat free Wishbone dressing. She has a great big smile of satisfaction, even offers the dressing to her friends. You can see as the commercial starts that all her friends are smaller in size than she is, she could be sporting a sweet little body under that tweed suit coat but her shoulder pads cause her to resemble a football player more than a simple housewife. Her friends love her though they have just realized she carries dressing in her purse, what else is she hiding about herself?

I have turned into this lady, except I don't wear chunky shoulder pads, I wear a tire around my waist. However, since starting the Astronaut Diet and I am on the run and pick up a salad from a fast food place I find myself in a pinch, there is not 0carb, 0sugar, 0fat, 0taste dressing available.

After grabbing the fast food loot, I pull over to pass out the goods to the crazy people in the back of my vehicle (these people would be my children) I take out my salad and lift the plastic lid seeing the rabbit food staring me in the face, it's laughing at me just like vegetables in my fridge. First, I pick off the shredded cheese, closing my eyes as I do so thinking to myself "who in their right mind would willingly pick off chilled shredded cheese and put it in last weeks fast food bag they still have in the car and will stay there until their next birthday." I continue discarding, the croutons go, the bits of bacon and the dressing that is calling my name plop into the sack. I try to talk one of my children into eating the croutons so that I can watch them and remember the enjoyment that spreads across your face as you bite into carbs, but they refuse, it's not necessary to fill themselves up with croutons when they have fries, cheeseburgers and a soda to wash it all down with.

It's past my lunch time by about two hours and the starving scary lady is about to burst through me like the Incredible Hulk and I think to myself "Why didn't I put my 0carbs, 0fat, 0sugar, 0taste salad dressing in my purse today?"

On another note I have some thoughts on the line "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." I don't know who coined the phrase but I picture the person to be a woman, very gangly, no money for braces, balding and has a rare disease where no matter what she does, not even the Astronaut Diet (Gasp) she can't lose weigh and gains at a rapid speed.

One day she wakes up and says "I won't let beauty control my life! Beauty is in the eye of the beholder! I am beautiful no matter what!" So she lives an amazing life and dies and goes to heaven and gets to be a supermodel because her attitude allowed her to do good in the world.

My point is, if you love your family and you do everything to make sure you give them what they need, you never want to put yourself first, you keep them safe, happy, healthy and choosing the right then why would it be okay to be self-absorbed, obsessed with your looks? Wondering if you are good enough, if people accept you, if your butt looks good in last years jeans cause you had to buy groceries and now you can't afford this years style.

What it comes down to is if you care enough about your family's well being you will get over yourself and move on. Don't be selfish and dwell on what you cannot change. Aspire to improve on what you can do and the person you can be if you free yourself from self hatred.

I know a woman that is so beautiful that that is why I wanted to be her friend. She's so beautiful that people stare, gawk and stalk her (I do, that's why I am going to MT is to see her, then my family) she's an amazing person, she has four teenage boys and is a great mom. I am guessing that she would give up that beauty to have her husband back that she lost eight years ago while her boys were young. So yes she looks like a model and I obsess about looking like one but in the end all it comes down to are the trials each of us are given and how we get through them. That is where I believe the woman conjured up the saying "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" knew what she was talking about.

So I am pledging to be done with this obsession and move on to being the person I can be, I will not let this speed bump or more like road construction that hasn't let me through for most of my life keep me from healing. I refuse to let my husband or children be affected by my self absorbtion. I cannot change how I look but I can put the obsession behind me and move on!

I would love for everyone that reads this to leave a comment, no hate mail please, I said I am on the road to self love sobriety not that I was there! If you didn't like anything you read just come up with something good to say that is positive like: "I loved how you used punctuation at the end of each sentence" or "Your spelling was super neat" or "I am impressed that you know how to type" anything is welcomed, you can even tell your story or why self love sobriety is important to you! Take the pledge today! Starla

For My Two Fans!

So I have two fans that I feel I owe a new blog post to so here it goes.



I am stuck at home with five energetic kids, the house is what you ask? A mess, is it ever not? I have until next week to get it ready to move into the new place. We have no boxes, I have no energy and the kids want to divorce me. So what I am saying is SCHOOL IS OUT, SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!



I was determined to never be one of those moms that said anything but happy, positive uplifting phrases, I did okay until, well I have no idea how long it lasted it could have been after the first minute the first kid was born, I guess it would depend on who you ask. Just don't ask my kids or husband. Don't ask my in-laws, my parents or siblings, anyone related to me or that has been friends with me for more than an hour. It's easy to see that I have my faults as a mom in a little amount of time. Mostly because I tell on myself, what a terrible habit, not only do I tell on myself I exaggerate in ways that are not to my benefit! Maybe if I was a liar people would just assume I was being hard on myself but on the contrary they know I am compulsively honest and give it all up to any one's lending ear. The dog even knows this!



"Mother of the year award" is out as of the first day of summer vacation, I definately don't deserve that one. "Mrs. Iowa" is out for this year also thanks to my sugar addiction that I used to bandaid my idea of having five kids and thinking I could manage without a crutch whether it was drugs, drinking, wild men or sugar highs. I think that if I had to pick from the list sugar was the smartest choice but really did I have to pick the one that would make me look like I was wearing a fanny pack full of jelly doughnuts around my waist?



Has anyone considered coming up with an award that is more achieveable such as "I have been trying does that count" award. "I haven't killed my kids yet" award, or the "Hey, you're amazing mom, you haven't runaway from home yet" award!



I must mention that since I haven't had carbs for almost a month now that this might have altered my sense of appreciation for being a stay-at-home mom full time for thirteen years. Because before now I could drink down a pepsi and a couple of candybars and get my mojo back! Since I am eating healthy it just makes me think clearly about this great calling in life.

Disclaimer

It's important that all of you readers of this blog know that I write in draft form, meaning I do not make grammatical corrections or any other sort of corrections. Reason being if I did I would never write. So please forgive spelling (I try to remember to use spell check) and grammatical errors. Just enjoy, lie and tell me you love it! I am not yet a professional writer, mother, wife or human being! Starla

Am I the Mom or the Pet Rabbit?

Never in all of my thirteen years of being a mother and wife have I spent so much time on myself. Normally I would hide the house, play with Isaac, have a candy bar and get the kids from school. Now there aren't any candy bars! I am considering a funeral in their name, laying them to rest next to my IDOL Mr. Pepsi. He brought me so much joy, the kitkat kids and the twix twins cheered him on as I opened and took a long drag of that oh, so intoxicating Pepsi Cola, like a $200 bottle of perfume. I carefully sniffed each bottle every time like a fine wine (not like I have ever tried that but you get the point). Inhaling the scent of powdered chicken soup where the chicken never made it to this planet, ashes of a chicken that chose to be cremated instead of slaughtered, it just doesn't have the same affect! We studied a famous astronaut the other night for sixth grade homework. In the 1960's or whatever year it was (I probably wouldn't have passed the test) the smile on the guy's face wasn't because he stepped onto the moon, it was because he knew that if ever there was an Astronaut Diet, he would always know that his food on the spaceship was 100% better than diet chicken ashes.

The house has never looked worse. It seems that I feel so much better after my detox that I don't yell, I don't guilt the people I live with into cleaning, everyone is smiling and playing outside.

Steve and I snuggle and stare in each other's eyes while the kids are out playing and laughing on Saturday mornings, even during the week. As a family we skip around leisurely because not only am I happier, I also don't have time to be a "normal"(productive) mom.

If ever they want to find me I will be filling a shaker dropping in the whisk ball and pouring chicken ashes in. Shaking, shaking until creamy and smooth (yeah, right). I take out the ball so I don't blow up the microwave, which I think is both a good learning experience for the kids plus I am keeping them safe! Hey, I guess I do have time to be a mom a few seconds a day!

After I retrieve the frothy meal from the microwave the kids start to talk to me without taking breaths, I measure out sea salt and dump olive oil in the creamy, smooth, wet chicken ashes. I nod my head tyring not to choke on the creamy goodness. They watch as the end comes near in hopes that I will be able to answer the question "Where is the toilet paper? Monica needs it, she has been in the bathroom for an hour now." I spit out the answer as another kid approaches. I start to down my "mandatory H2O" when the questions, requests, stories and begging continue.

I get done with the water, I see their eyes light up. "We get our mommy back!"
They say in a quiet whisper. I rinse out my cup and go to the cupboard to see what vitamins I have almost forgotten to take. I gulp down vitamins and water feeling water logged. I take a breath and they try to jump in with conversation, hoping that what Lily (the friend) said at school that day will be important enough to convince me to give some undivided attention to them, rather than myself.

Instead they get the Supermodel inside me going to the refrigerator to get veggies (like a good Supermodel should). As I am rinsing them I hear voices surrounding me, I can hear fighting, I hear faint yells coming down the stairs.

"She told you where it is, will someone please get me some?" Monica cries out.

I realize that for the second that I take away from focusing on myself that 20 minutes has past and Monica is still in the bathroom.

"Go get her some toilet paper! NOW!" I manage to blurt out with force, I am starting to feel exhausted, trying to ignore them and take care of only me.

I start to chop up a green pepper, little people are repeatedly saying "I want some!" Then that deep low voice bellows out in slow motion, "Don't touch mommy's food!" They cower down and my breathing regulates. I cried over a cold green bean that fell on the floor yesterday, Monica looked at me like I had lost my mind when I started sobbing next to it. Yes, I could have rinsed it off but if you could see what this diet has done to my floors you wouldn't dare utter those words.

I sit down on a stool that's been conveniently left in the kitchen by who knows who including the dog and start crunching, crunching, and crunching on the pepper. Now that I am sitting the kids have swarmed me once again, this time on their level thinking, this is a good time for "mommy time." The stories continue, the bickering follows.

"She's my mommy, you had her for a whole 2 seconds when she was cutting it up!"

"Yeah, but you got to talk to her during one of the twenty times she went potty today and it lasted like five minutes cause she drinks so much water! No fair! Mom!"

What they don't realize is I can't hear them over the crunching so they had nothing to argue about. I can't worry myself with that because I know the cauliflower is in the fridge making jokes to all the other vegetables about how I have to eat a whole cup of him and have cauliflower breath for the rest of the day.

Cauliflower breath is really my only saving grace between the diet and the kids. It's the one thing that after one of the kids asks a question and I answer it, they say, "What's that smell." And run the other direction.

I eat the cauliflower, it's in smaller bits so it goes down easier, I don't take time to cook it. I try not to choke and as I stand up from the stool a child latches onto my leg. "Mama, hold me, please, I love you--Mama."

I don't exactly swat the child off my leg but give a playful nudge (off) and let him know that I love him and that I'm almost done. I fill the shaker with water once again, the shaker that has regurgitated the smell of wet chicken ash and I chug it. With my eyes floating I look at my children's faces and smile, "Don't touch mommy she's full!"

What feels like five minutes later Steve walks through the door, home from work, we all sigh, not because we aren't happy to see him but we all know that I have to eat dinner soon!

"

It's Me or Your Kids!

I watched the reality TV series "It's Me or the Dog" this morning on TLC or whatever network, all I got out of it is I am starting a new reality TV series for this family called "It's me or Your Kids!" When I refer to the kids as Steve's kids during a conversation he and I are having he says "Prove it!" Which means we know the kids are mine but need DNA testing to prove he had any part in this insanity. After thirteen years of him responding this way I have countered with "Don't make me go make another kid with a different guy to show you that kid would look different from the rest of our spawn!" He gives me a look like that was inappropriate to say and we switch the subject.

The idea for this family show comes from watching the over grown horse of a Great Dane take out his master as he walks through the door, he's happy to see him but at 150lbs and six feet tall, and his standing at this greeting, it's just bad manners. This might seem raw and harsh but this mimics when I get home from a quick run to the small town store. I come back with food to feed my energetic family, food that I went hand selected and paid for just so they could eat and enjoy having food in the house.

As I drive up there isn't a soul in sight. I hear the wind and silence, not even a chirp from a bird, I wonder if I am the last person on this planet. When I left everyone was outside being super active, laughing and running around. I open the back of the suburban thinking surely someone will realize I am home and come rushing out to help me with this load. I turn in each direction searching for someone, like I just did at the store in the dark parking lot, I know I am extremely sexy in the dark with a dim street light hovering above, therefore I am extra careful to watch out for a young sexy college student that might throw me in his van and take me to a party. To bad for me it didn't happen this time, I mean I looked with hopes not fears!

I grab all that I can so I don't have to come back out to the car, I feel the plastic handles cut into my fingers, they aren't too heavy, it's the long walk that forces the bags to abuse me. I have to park out past the driveway across a four foot span of muddy puddle in the grass, about fifty or more feet away, my six and three year old need their space and the car takes that from them. I step over the puddle, almost tripping as I am looking towards the house so I don't miss the help that is going to burst through the door any minute. I notice the good towels are in piles covered in freshly mowed grass, wiped with muddy feet as I take a step up to the porch. As soon as I hit the porch the door is flung open two little people descend out in front of me, I can't move, the dog comes rushing to my feet drops his tennis ball, I step on it and almost go down. I inch in further using the bags of groceries as a shield pushing my children towards the door, in the doorway there stands the rest of the family, (key word: stands) statues staring at me like I am a first time visitor. I start to say something and then catch myself as I almost biff it from tripping over a Lightning McQueen small beach ball, all the while I am still pushing my way in as children are trying to come out. I start to feel like I am Lady Gaga making my way through a crowd that must have my autograph. Steve finally pokes his head around and looks at me, "Move you guys!" Oh, yes just in time he comes to my rescue. They all take a baby step aside so that I am able to dart over the four feet of kitchen (that I am so blessed to have), so that I can drop the groceries. I stand there, and they know what they have done but they still just stare at me like "what's for dinner?"

Deep breathing sets in cause I cannot for the life of me believe that after all these years and all the whining, complaining, and freaking out that I have done that this is still our routine.

Here is why I didn't get any help as I arrived with the goods. 1) Steve pretends to not be able to hear my million ton suburban that screeches and calls out "Please fix me!" The rumbling doesn't perk his ears, the dog whining (something he does each time one of us pulls in) just makes him think that the dog is professing his love to his great master, the dog then gets a pat on the head, a hug and a "Who's a good boy?" I think I will stop shaving to see if I can get that kind of attention and praise!

2) My kids didn't run out to my rescue and help their amazing mother because how could they stop in the middle of a new "iCarly" episode, they don't want to pause because they haven't seen this particular one before, everyone knows you only pause if it's a rerun and we have it recorded. One child couldn't hear because of the ipod, she had ear buds in.

3) The other children couldn't help, they were already helping their pretend mom unload groceries in their "playing house" game.

I love my family beyond measure, more than New York, more than vintage strawberry decorations, more than all my writing books and more than my new diet but I have to tell you a piece of me dies each time I come home with groceries!

I Fought the Scale and the Scale Won!

I think it was Friday of last week that I woke up and weighed myself, and was wonderfully surprised to see that since Wed. I had lost 7lbs. On Wed. I was 1_3lbs. and on Friday I was 1_0lbs. I felt good about this and decided to weigh myself again on Sat. I was down to the next middle number, I wanted to check to see if I had lost one pound so that I wouldn't be in the _____ties but in the ____ties and I was so happy to find out that not only had I gone down to the next level of numbers but I had also lost four more pounds. So what the scale was telling me was that since Wed. I had lost 7lbs. You should have seen me get on a new shirt that is super cute, get dressed and hop into the car to go to Walmart (I am never this happy to go to Walmart) to go to my eye doctor and have him give me a prescription for my contacts. I was smiling I thought that even though I was wearing exercise pants (capris) that are stretchy cotton I looked like a babe (at least I felt like a babe). I was so happy that I hadn't cheated although all night my children looked like Hershey kisses, marshmallows, chocolate covered rasins, milk duds....you name it they just looked tastey. I was full of energy had a great attitude, smiled lots and even took two kids with me to the store even though I could have gone alone. The appt. went great, I complimented the doctor on a good job, we chatted and then Kody went to get a hair cut at "Cost Cutters" while Isabel and I picked up a few items. We listened to musical cards and ran around looking for a birthday gift, smelled a number of different deoderants (we picked up a manly one for Kody). We went to go get him and I wasn't surprised to see that once again they botched the hair cut, I wasn't going to let that bring me down. I paid for the stuff and we went to Wendy's for lunch, no....the kids got Wendy's for lunch. I got to go home and have chicken breast, cucumbers and cauliflower, yeah! I walked into the door and it hit, the "hunger anger" I heard the echo of my voice and it sounded like a man's deep serious voice shouting "Get out of my way, I need to eat!" The voice was in slow motion, I felt my face scrunch, my teeth show as my lips curled, and my eyebrows sunk. The look of death had overtaken my face. I placed the grocery bags on the floor and went to the refrigerator. I pulled out a whole green pepper, turned around staring at my family as if to say "I dare you to keep me from eating." I brought the cold hulk colored peper to my mouth and I tore into it like a coyote devoring his deer after a long fast. I started to think clearly, I knew I needed space still but the echoing of the deep voice faded and the curves of my lips started to curl upward as I noticed my kids were happy to see me home, I think they were happy, maybe they were just relieved that I had ripped into the pepper and not into one of them. I grabbed more vegetables and swallowed chewed up chunks of chicken my face softened and I heard people talking and I was responding in a motherly manner, within minutes I noticed the food was gone. Thankfully we have the Weekly Menu Diary so I could see that I had eaten all that was aloud and headed for a shaker full of water. I announced "You may all talk to mommy now." Oh, they new I was back because then I started to ask what happened to the house when mommy was gone and where was daddy during the time I was gone. I love to hear their version vs. their dad's version of what he was doing to watch over the children. Their version goes something like this. "Daddy wouldn't feed us lunch and he made us stay outside the whole time, he wouldn't even let us have a drink!" Steve's version. "They said what? No, darn kids I told them I would make them lunch, we would go outside and drink water. I was playing with them the whole time that's why we didn't get lunch done yet, I was just starting to do it when you got home!" So I ask the kids. "Daddy said he was outside playing with you the whole time and that is why he didn't get you lunch yet, is that right?" Kids. "He was in the garage looking for his High School yearbook and we never saw him!" I glance over at my husband. "You guys are so dead, see if I buy you doughnuts next time mom leaves." "OOOOhhhhhh, Dad, we're sorry but we had to tell her the truth." "Didn't I tell you guys you could look at me in the garage while I looked for that book? Isn't that paying attention to you? I guess we just won't hang out in the garage anymore if that's what you want." "NO, Dad, no we like being with you in the garage, Daaaadddddddy we're sorry!" Pouting. Then I have to rectify the situation and tell the kids Dad's just kidding and tell Steve their just kids and they did need lunch and he would say "They can make their lunch, I told them where the bread was, I even told them where the jelly was but they said they wanted to stare at me in the garage. We were having fun, I was even making jokes, they were laughing. We were having a good time!" I love my family but you never know what you're going to get when you get home. Unfortunately they usually know what they are going to get when I get home, I always hope it was worth it to them to trash the house and act like animals for the little amount of time that I escaped.

So I had a good day until I was starving and the rest of the night was going well until my pre-teen daughter Monica informed me that I had been complaining too much about the diet. "Not to be mean but you are complaining a lot." She says. "You do it and see if you complain Monica." I say. "Okay!" She sat there with the biggest smirk on her face, I think she might be a touch competitive with me. I felt bad I don't know why, I don't want to complain but the no sugar thing is like offering yourself to go to a torture camp and be happy about it. I decided though that I would try to not complain as much, I am pretty sure I haven't improved too much but atleast there is the desire to do better.

Here's where the story of dieting and the scale gets ugly. I was so happy on Saturday that I had lost weight that I told the kids it was like Christmas Eve because I planned on waking up in the morning to re-weigh. It was 7:30am on Sunday morning, I bounced down the stairs and got on the scale, at first I thought I wasn't seeing the numbers right because I didn't have glasses on or contacts in, I pressed select again and re-weighed. It said that I had gained two pounds! I couldn't breathe my chest was tight, my eyes began to sting with the salty tears that threatened to come. I sighed, and told the kids I thought the scale was broken, this $35.00 + tax scale was broken. Because there was no way that I had gained two pounds, I know that it was water that I lost the other day and that's fine if it was but for heck sake stay the same down gain it back. I think that their should be a rule with the fancy scales that once the weight is shown it can only stay the same or go down. That kind of scale would sell like hot cakes (mmmm......hot cakes, with butter all melty hot seeping through and the sugary sweet thick strawberry syrup running over the pile of pure heaven.....oh, mmmmm.....yes) sorry got side-tracked for a minute. So needless to say I was a wreck the rest of the day. Not on purpose but I just wasn't ready for that, I got dressed for church and my skirt was tight. Steve was staying home so I had to go teach the class and take kids by myself. I don't know why but I associate teaching a primary class with candy so it makes it that much harder to go there. I mean church houses beautiful potlucks, luncheons, parties I mean the have a kitchen for heck sake. I told myself to get a life and cool it because it had only been six days. We got home and had an enjoyable rest of the day and I was happy that this diet has made me feel better about myself, has given me back my flawless skin and took me off my sugar addiciton. I have even been nicer to my husband thanks to giving up caffeine and sugar highs. No more happy and then sad sugar highs and crashes, just a mellow mommy with a messy house. At least I feel better! Ta! Ta!

Oh Man!

I would like to give a shout out to my Cousin Valerie Griggs Dircks for all the help she has given me with this blog etc. She is an author "Predator" is her book, you can find it on Amazon.com it's under the name Val Griggs. She is one smart cookie, also she has a blog and her neato lizard Edgar does too. She designs A Lure Jewelry and does fabulous makeup if you are ever in her area! Love you Val.

Next, it's time for me to blog, yesterday I had a bijillion ideas and would you believe it they have all been sucked out of my brain thanks to the reality of being a stay at home mom. I was having an extremely bad day yesterday, I went into the ugly sobbing cry, the one where you can't talk or breathe and your brain feels like blowing out of your head right after your eyes jump out of their socket. My son is being bullied, shocking right? I am sure all of you that are reading this blog have experienced that, however, my son has Autism and it's not just one kid it's a group, all day everyday for two years now. The school won't do anything to stop it and I feel like I have let him down and send him to the lion's pit each day, I guess he would prefer it to be a tiger's pit since that is what he loves and that is what the kids harass him about, one of the many things that is! Thanks for letting me vent now let's get to some lighter conversation, conversations that I have with myself I guess. It's the best kind right?

Yesterday I woke up to the sweet face of my husband, he smiled and said "You are in big trouble, for something you did!" I thought to myself "Oh, crap what did he find out?"
"You cheated on me" that's the (clean version). He said "Is that what you are going to do when you get skinny?"

I said "I don't know." I mean what kind of question is that?

He responded by saying, with a smile of course. "This is a college town." Pause. "If I lost a few pounds I could get a college girl ya know, you know how college girls are!"

I said. "Well, I am the one that's on the diet first so I guess I will be the one to get a college guy and cheat first!" "Ha!"

I have to tell you that it was the day after the first day I started the diet and he (Steve) was already crazy goo goo over me, I don't know what's going to happen after I lose a pound! I'll tell you though, I cannot wait! So ladies if you want your husband to pant over you and chase you around the house just go on the Ideal Protein Diet and start praying that he will give you a break sometimes.

Let me tell you how this Astronaut Diet is going, I wake up in the morning, and then it hits me, I can't eat sugar. I feel nauseas at the thought, light headed like a true Supermodel does when she wakes up each morning the difference is she can't even have Astronaut food and she's a stinkin' supermodel so clearly my side of things is much worse!

I have headaches, I am tired, I look at my house and wonder if there is enough change in the couch to pay someone to come here and at least hide my house. My kids stare at me like if you can't get up what makes you think we can and what's that smell in our room. There is a distinct smell in their room of rotten milk, which I am sure Isaac let leak out of his sippy cup, who knows how long it had been under there and the house is a sauna, that doesn't help. When I was getting the cot out from under there when the in-laws were here I noticed that I was dragging spilled milk, a cot, among unidentifiable objects from under the bed. I cleaned it up but the smell has been lingering. So I told Monica to mask the smell with a swifer sweeper wet thingy and after she did that, there was no difference. I was on the bed that the two little girls sleep on, the one that houses the rotten spilled milk situation and I could smell the pungent smell of curdled milk. I carefully sniffed the blankets (never deeply inhale your children's blankets or sheets unless you are a mom that actually cleans) I realized that there must have been a milk spill on the bed also. What does this mean you ask? Well, it means that this poor mom that is faint, and starving has to actually move and go down to the basemtent where the spider webs are hanging down low enough that it really is a haunted house, and I have to actually wash bedding!

My mom would say "Oh, Starla, just take down the broom and get rid of the webs!"

This would be great advice if 1)I had the energy to do that 2)I was a mom that cleans and 3)If I actually remembered to do it. Personally I think she just wants to remind me of the pansy that I am, followed by expressing if she was there she would do it. So mom if you are reading this you are welcome to come and take care of that basement, she's thinking

"I would if I could come!"

The fact is she won't be coming until July and I won't be in this house anymore. The other house however has a history of having a snake in it so she can deal with that, I actually like snakes, but I am sure she could do it better! Hmph!

So back to the diet, I had to drizzle olive oil over my cup of pickles because I forgot to eat the olive oil throughout the day, it wasn't horrible but not recomended. It just seemed wrong. What did I do with the salt that I hadn't used throughout the day, well, I had to eat lettuce with sea salt, I was so full from my dinner of ribeye steak, mashed potatoes, corn and cherry cobbler....wait, I can't have that? Hahaha! No, I was full from my Astronaut dinner that I could hardly get it down, not too mention it wasn't exactly delicious! So I was stocked up on olive oil and sea salt, it just reminded me of how amazing I am going to look in a year, that's what I told Steve last night as we turned off the light to go to bed, that maybe I would be skinny in a year. Blahhhhhh! I am not saying I don't beleive in this diet but it's sure easier to think it will happen to someone else and not yourself! I feel like I have to loose like 80lbs and the light is never going to be at the end of the tunnel, I think it's just my growling stomach talking or my mind that knows I have put myself in non-sugar jail that is saying all this negative smut! So forgive me and just pray that the broccoli will taste like a kitkat so that I won't die!

The Butter Talks To Me

Remember the Parkay commercial where the butter and Parkay would argue which one was best? Well yesterday as a prepared toast with butter and strawberry jam for an after school snack, like a line cook for five hungry mouths, it spoke to me! "Eat me!" It called out! I thought to myself that's just crazy, I didn't just hear that creamy stick of soft butter shout at me! I delivered toast to the first child and in the kitchen I heard "Eat Me!" I was going to chastise my children for talking rudely to their mother when I noticed all five of them were in front of me. I quickly went back to the kitchen to insert bread into the toaster, I glanced over at the butter..."Eat me!" "Are you kidding me?" I said loud enough for only me to hear. I knew this diet was going to be hard but no one said I would be halucinating about food, or I might have reconsidered the whole thing. The jam dripped down my fingers, butter melted under it, the stickiness from the sugar begged to be licked, "I'm beautiful and smell so sweet!" Yep, that was the strawberry jam taunting me, teasing me with her smell, color and shapely jar body! The toast gripped my fingers it knew how much I needed to feel that dry rough texture turn into thick, moist carb heaven in my mouth screaming for joy as the butter helped it glide into a swirl of strawberry decadance, with a swallow of pure, sheer, ultimate joy and satisfaction. "Mom!" A kid shouted. "It's my turn next, you aren't going to eat that are you?" I looked at my hands I had been sniffing the beautiful creation that warmed my palm, who knew toast with butter and strawberry jam could be so seductive! "I must prevail!" I thought to myself. "I can do this, I will make fifty peices of toast and I will not let texture or smell make me cheat."

D-Day "The Astronaut Diet!"

So yesterday was day one, I started off the morning with a chocolate drink and vitamins, which by the way cause some pretty gross burps! The shaker is pretty cool, the ball inside is like a spongy whisk. Mom told me to remember to not leave it in when I microwave the drink, make sure the lid is on when you shake the drink and if the lid is on make sure it's screwed on tight and the flip top is closed. I don't want to tell on her or anything but she knows this advice is necessary because she has experienced problems when she did all those things. I felt pretty good after the drink, I filled up the shaker with water afterwards and drank it so that I make sure to drink all the water I need to. I am not familiar with drinking water because before now I was a Pepsi (cry, cry) drinker and only used water occasionally to help swallow pills. I wasn't hungry after my liquid astronaut breakfast but thoughts of actual food did creep into my head. I had to lay down at nap time since I was feeling tired and if you sleep your need for food can be avoided for a few hours. The nap didn't go so well since I had about fifty phone calls, each time I fell asleep it felt so good but then the phone would ring. I was relieved almost when it was time to get up, but that's when it hit...the migraine. It was from no sugar, no Pepsi and my neck that has been hurting beyond words for months. I find that the timing of my migraines coincide with me picking up the kids from school. They all talk at the same time believing they have vital information that must be shared or they will blow up. They argue while getting into the car even though we have had the same routine (car wise) since they were born, but each time it seems like it's their first and they must be told step by step what to do. I was shaking, sweating (the air conditioner doesn't work in the car) and feeling like I was going to pass out at any moment. I hadn't eaten (drank) lunch yet and here it was 4:00pm. The kids were in slow motion entering the car and I was trying to control myself so there wouldn't be any blood. We had to go to the little store in town so I could get veggies and pay the guy from the night before cause I didn't have my check card, he let me take the food and told me to come in today and pay for it. A major benefit for living in a tiny town. I quickly got frozen broccoli, canned chicken and ham, Mrs.Dash and searched for Astronaut butter (Molly McButter) they didn't have any though, a draw back to living in a tiny town with a tiny grocery store! I am fantasizing about doughnuts right now, the ones I dreamed about last night in between bouts of 6 potty breaks while trying to sleep. I pushed the kids out of the way when we got home and made the broccoli and chicken "Astronaut" soup. Two cups of broccoli with sea salt and Mrs.Dash, it was pretty good, the soup was a mysterious blend and had strong seasonings, my breath was like Shrek's, I drank water after the soup and had more vitamins. I definitely felt better after eating. My headache made me want to die each time I heard a noise or if someone talked to me. With a small house and kids that specialize in making noise I was out of my mind in pain. I sat on my bed while each one of the kids came in my room, one by one and two by two to beg, tell me stuff, wrestle each other, tell me about homework, tell on each other, tell me about bullying situations at school among other joyous reports. It got to the point that if someone even thought of breathing I was going to lose it! Steve went to the store for me to get a scale and some veggies by the time he got home Monica had made dinner for the kids and I was laying in bed. I had to get up for a little while so that I could eat, I wasn't in the mood but was excited to eat chicken instead of drink something. It was chicken breast out of a 5oz. can. I thought it was okay and then I had a cucumber for my veggies. My children swarmed me like bees stealing whatever bites they could get. Steve helped out for the rest of the night by getting kids to bed, after being up for a little bit and after we said family prayers I went to lay down again. I only wanted to lay down for fifteen minutes or so but I feel asleep and didn't get up until Steve came in and started turning on his laptop, he made a phone call and then used his iPhone for a while, I wasn't exactly happy about being woken up etc. but I had to go potty anyway. I didn't take my sleeping pill so it was a long night, I don't even know how many times I had to go potty but it was a lot. I had to kill a spider in the bathroom and then a firefly had to die also. I had some pretty weird dreams and when it was time to get up I popped out of bed. Steve said "You're getting up?" I said "Yep!" I usually can't get out of bed and it was nice to be able to get up and get the kids off to school.

The Battle of the Astronaut Diet

So I will be starting the Astronaut Diet on May 24th 2010, it was presented to me by a lady named Jerry Dodmother she promised that I would be a supermodel on the outside in three months, four if I was lying about my weight! I am looking forward to the weight loss, I have lots of confidence that I can do this and I am excited. The problem might be that I get really excited and confident about this diet after I have had a large meal, popcorn, ice cream, a king size candy bar and a soda. Hmmm....I wonder what that means. I think it means the diet seems like a good idea at the exact moment that I want to go stick my finger down my throat and upchuck all the garbage I have just eaten. Hopefully the diet will make me feel that horribly sick so that I don't want all the junk food that I am used to rewarding myself with. By rewarding I mean I get up out of bed to realize that three of the four kids made it to the bus after feeding themselves, getting dressed and checking the time so they don't miss it. I take the straggler, drop her off and go immediately to the gas station to buy the little guy a sucker for not taking off with the car while I walk his sister into the school. And for myself for actually realizing that she needed to be taken to school and then I did it, well, I get to have a soda (extra large-caffeinated) and a couple of candy bars that I tell myself will last me for at least a full week. It normally lasts until Isaac takes a nap and then I indulge for having such a hard job like filling the dishwasher and starting a load of laundry. My point is life is hard and I reward myself with a lifestyle that is going to turn me into a diabetic so it's time to do what the Astronaut's do. I mean have you ever seen a Astronaut so fat that they can't float in air while sucking liquid peanut butter and a powdered pouch of two slices of wheat bread? I didn't think so. I will let you know how it's going each day, there will be a lot of complaining, crying, fussing, cussing (in computer bleeping form--example !@##@#$#$$%), I will be blaming others for my weight gain, blaming medications, finances, family members, states that I have lived in, high school teachers, friends, hair spray, and the weather. I am positive that there will be plenty more things that I will be blaming and talking about while crying, I am convinced that not only will crying be therapeutically necessary but I will lose weight by doing so. I could use all the cheerleaders that I can so please read daily and leave comments that will keep me strong and will keep me from cheating. At the end, those that have been faithful will be able to see before and after pictures if I can figure out how to do that! What a treat huh? Wish me luck and thanks to all you who believe in me.....just so you know my supermodel name is Giselle and I know how to use it! Watch me cause here I go! Starla/Mofsi/Giselle

Parents Pick Your Battles

On the way home from Church today I found myself, as usual, telling random things to my husband. It started with Isaac burping and then saying "Ha, Isabel, I burped on you!" The other incident that reminded of my upbringing was Isabel complaining about Olivia and Monica sharing secrets and not telling her about them. Secret sharing was a big no no at my house! It would get you a look of death if mom caught you.

I told him my parents were obsessed with manners, you couldn't sing at the table, no burping, no tooting, no picking your nose and no sharing secrets, among many many other bad manners, accident or not, they were not tolerated. I have nothing against good manners, in fact as a mother I teach my children to use good manners at all times.

My children get away with not minding their manners when it's an accident, if it's not in public and they say excuse me. So my point is, finally, that although my kids have manners they do occasionally burp on their sister, share whispering secrets, and sing at the table....however we have put our foot down on that one, cause, well....my parents knew what they were doing that time, the singing sucks more than it sounds good, so it's just a rule for the parents sanity! Yes, my parents were strict with manners but what I am trying to say is pick your battles....do you want your kids to have good manners or your grandchildren? Because in my parents case their kids had perfect manners, but when let loose into the big wide world, when offspring were involved...their grandchildren get to slide because the rules were too strict and I don't want to battle the manners 24/7.

Alter Egos

Why is it that when Garth Brooks, or Beyonce have alter egos it gets them more famous and more money? But when I have all these other personalities all I get are numbers handed to me for local therapists?

I remember one day I was driving in our truck by myself, the music was loud, the view was Montana at it's best. I called Steve and told him I had to turn the music down because all the voices in my head were too loud! He was scared and asked if I was serious, I told him I was kidding....but he'll never know if that's really the truth!

I was telling my husband that at my funeral I want him to read an hour of Erma Bombeck, then say thank you for coming....cause that's all I would want! If anyone ever compared me to her, I told him (as I had tears in my eyes) I could die!

Meet Mofsi

I would like to introduce you to an insecure, heavy around the middle, not so much an ugly duckling (but one quack away) mother of five...that is convinced she's a Supermodel inside! Call her Mofsi for short. She is me and I am her, though we might refer to each other as the "other one!" This will be necessary for blaming and embarrassing each other. It's a Beyonce sort of thing. "Sasha Fierce" is her alter ego so that she can dance and be a diva, though she tries to convince you that she is nothing like Sasha! What it comes down to is not owning up to who you are and things you don't want people to know you have done, are doing, or want to do! Everyone follow? It's a messed up world and that's where I come in I am Starla. My passion is writing, my obsession is writing, after pushing my kids out the window during a fire, my writing books would come next....I am sure Steve (my husband) can take care of himself; if not the kids and I get to go on a vacation with the money from his estate. Oh, wait there is none! Okay so I would become a single mom. So I guess in the instance of a fire, I would save the kids, the husband, the writing books and then the dog (this is subject to change as soon as he does, and convinces me he is worth saving sooner)! I own over 130 books on how to write. How many have I written? A big fat 0, the conclusion I have come to is that all the writing books are the same but I just know that there is one out there that will speak to me and say exactly what I need to hear to start the "Great American Novel." What they all have in common is that they tell me to write, but I don't, cause I am a chicken...ask my husband! The only thing I have managed to accomplish is making the career choices for my daughters, they want to be writers....hopefully they won't watch and learn from me! When I thought of writing this blog, everything inside me shut down, I wasn't even sure I could spell my own name, I wanted to vomit....nerves and sweats overcame me and I thought to myself. I'll do it tomorrow.

Rough draft: Just practice writing

The dinosaur on Jason’s shirt across the table from him had come to life after Nick had tasted the sandwich specially made by his Jewish Grandmother. The dinosaur twirled, and tapped danced. Nick shook his head closed his eyes telling himself this wasn’t really happening. His throat felt tight he grabbed at his chest slowly taking breaths in and out. Mrs. Muggy came over to his lunch table “Nick you need to stop showing off, kids are staring at you.” He tried to answer but all that came out was, “Dinosaur moving can’t breathe.” “You are such a class clown Nick and I am sick of the distractions, I will have to call your mother to let her know of your disrespect towards adults!” She turned to walk away just as Nick fell to the floor grabbing at his neck, turning around Mrs. Muggy clenched her fists and as she counted backwards from one hundred she walked calmly over to Nick grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him towards the cafeteria’s door. He fought her the whole way causing her to hold on to him tighter. “Look here mister, you will walk with me appropriately to the Principal’s office or your life here at Jackson Elementary is going to be a nightmare.” Nick’s body started convulsing, his body swinging back and forth shifting his hips into Mrs. Muggy’s hips, she huffed in disgust, “What makes you think this is so funny?” Two fifth graders turned the corner to see the pair in a disturbing dancing mode. They watched curiously, nodding their heads to the right and then to the left making out what exactly was going on, that’s when it happened, Nick tripped on the corner of a rug sending his hip forcefully into Mrs.Muggy’s side. She flung into the side of the hallway not letting go of Nick’s arm, she yanked him to the ground he landed on her foot she lost her balance and did a flip over his body causing her dress to go over her head where her hot pink undergarments showed all their glory. The fifth graders screamed out in laughter holding their stomachs, one hand to their mouth to muffle the sound of the obnoxious laughter. They were close enough to the office that the secretary came running out her headset still on her head, she looked at the two fifth graders ready to give them a lecture, when she spotted Mrs. Muggy and Nick tangled on the floor. She rushed over to the side of Mrs. Muggy pulled her dress back down. “Are you alright, what happened?”


“Yes, I am alright. It’s Mr. Sampson that has a problem and has tried to cause problems for me.” Nick lay there not able to breathe his eyes tearing up, painful itching had begun to cover his body he thrashed back and forth trying to get the attention of someone.

“Nick was showing off in the cafeteria so I dragged him out of there once he had flung himself onto the floor, this kid will do anything to get a laugh out of his peers. He refused to come willingly so I had to forcefully drag him by the arm. He thrashed into me as we walked eventually causing me to tumble over his foot.”

“I think something is wrong with him Mrs. Muggy” one of the fifth graders said while looking at Nick hold his neck tossing and turning, he looked like an inch worm as he tried to relieve the itching.

“He’s fine, just a class clown trying to do his best to entertain now that he has an audience.”

The school’s nurse came rushing out of her office. “What is going on here?”



“Nick is at it again. He’s really gone overboard this time and his parents will need to be notified immediately.” Mrs. Muggy was holding a grudge now as she remembered that Nick’s audience had also seen her undergarments. The nurse kneeled down at Nick’s side, his eye’s were shut, she gently lifted each eyelid one by one. “His eyes are rolling into the back of his head; his eyes are tearing out of control.” She lifted his shirt slightly to find the beginnings of a rash covering his mid-section.

“Call his parents immediately after you call 911.”

“Now he has you fooled too, I’m telling you he’s faking it he loves this kind of attention everyone knows that. He will stop at nothing to get an audience especially if he can humiliate me in the mean time. Nick can you hear me? You are in a heap of trouble, say hello to summer school you have asked for it.”

“Mrs. Muggy you are wrong, he has eaten something that he is allergic to, I need you to go to the cafeteria and get what is left of his lunch.”

“Nurse Val, you are going to be pretty embarrassed when you find out that this is all a show, calling an ambulance, his parents, and picking through his food as though he might die.” She turned around with a pinched pucker mouth and slowly sauntered down the hall, her dress tucked into her girdle.

“Mrs. Muggy wait just a minute, I need to tell you something.” The nurse called out.

“I know, I will get the lunch and hurry back, since this is an emergency and all, I heard you don’t worry.”

“No, that’s not it, it’s just….”

“I am not a child I don’t have to be told more than once.” With her back turned she kept walking not looking back and with her hand up in the air gesturing she had had enough, she ignored the nurse.

“I tried to warn her.” Nurse Val shook her head and looked to the two students to see the last of their smirks they had changed quickly as she glanced up at them. Mrs. Muggy walked to the cafeteria talking under her breath about how in all her forty years of teaching she had never felt so humiliated by a student, she had lost all respect for Nick, not that she had much to start with. She knew she should go straight to the cafeteria like she said she would but she needed to go to the restroom to straighten her girdle, it had given her a wedgie and it couldn’t wait for another minute. She walked in as three third grade girls almost trampled her as they walked out giggling oblivious to her presence, she shook her head, she thought of when she was in school they had a lot more respect than the kids these days. She checked the stalls, there wasn’t anyone else in the bathroom, and she wanted to avoid using a stall since they were so small it would be hard to adjust plus she needed the mirror for guidance. She turned to look at the back of her dress to get an idea of what was going on with the girdle, she was going to lift up her dress but was in shock when she noticed her dress had gotten caught on one of the girdle hooks. She let out a yell that the classes could hear but she wasn’t the least bit worried, she was mortified that Nick was the cause of this, and that his audience had witnessed her backside. It came to her that the nurse had tried to warn her but she had been to prideful to listen. She went into a stall and began to sob.