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!