April 15, 2013. This might be this first Tax Day I don't actually give a rip about taxes thanks to whomever decided to bomb Boston. Yep. It takes an absolute globe-shaking event, the kind where an 8-year-old is killed while waiting for his dad to cross the finish line of a life-changing marathon, to make the world forget... it's Tax Day.
Crap.
I can't believe this world has turned to such, to quote my dad, crap. I can't turn on the tv without making sure the kids aren't in the room. I fear they'll catch a glimpse of the reality of the world and not want to face it. "Here kids... Here's what we're giving you!" We are tearing one another apart, inside and out (if you consider the quality of the food in America) and that's what we're leaving our kiddos. I am sick over it. But, I am not radical or liberal or poster-making enough to go and stand for it. My shoes MUST have tall heels so I can't stand for hours to picket (I'm only 5"2 for Pete's sake). I am a writer. So, I am going to start reading more about what to do. And then I'll write more letters. Will I stand and picket? Nah. Not me. But... I can write a mean letter and I can read myself under the table.
Folks, we all need to find out strengths and hone them. Whatever it is you do well, contribute that quality to the community. Share yourself. I think it might be time we start working as a team. If nothing else, we might not feel so helpless. Okay, I won't feel so helpless. Today, I feel helpless. I am sad for Boston. I am sad for those people. I can hardly run to the end of my street without collapsing. I can only imagine the sheer success I'd feel if I made it to the Boston Marathon. I'd be a winner just be being there. Then, that dream would be exploded. Literally. I can't fathom the pain. The heartbreak and the physical pain.
So, tonight, I am remembering what I do best. I read and I write. I will find ways to use this. Find your talent and let's join together to help one another. Forget photographs on this blog. This is what it is. We are here and we need to join together to stop this already....
Monday, April 15, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Spring Break Day 4 ... Surviving
So, the week of Spring Break is nearing an end. It's almost Friday! The kids were determined to visit the zoo this week so, to the zoo we went. It was insane. I mean, IN. ABSOLUTE. SANE. The only good news was that my husband and I left feeling like really great parents. My top 10 examples as to why:
1. Neither of us have tattoos of the names of other men or women. On our faces.
2. We don't restrain either of our children on leashes when we travel or go in public. In fact, have never leashed one of our children.
3. My kids eat sugar and yes, the horror, fast food. They don't, however, eat a bag of Sour Patch Kids and wash them down with a jug of Mountain Dew. (It works for Honey Boo Boo, though, so perhaps we should reconsider?)
4. We don't beat our kids. If we did, we would never do so in public.
5. We don't smoke. In a car. With the windows up. With the kids in the car. Whew.
6. Our 7-year-old daughter is not allowed to wear t-shirts with beer slogans on them. Again, she's 7. Her daddy can wear whatever he wants, but she is not promoting beer. Yet.
7. The words "Get Daddy his Copenhagen" have never come out of my husband's mouth. Or mine, for that matter.
8. My husband and I, we swear like sailors. BUT, not around our children. Especially not AT our children. When you say "I'm going to knock the x*%&#y! s... out of you" to your child, you need to step back, and give your kid over to Protective Child Services. Seriously.
9. I have never pulled a crisp stack of dollar bills out of my bra to pay for an ice cream cone. In fact, no money is in my undergarments.
10. We may not be the most stylish folks around, but we at least get dressed. In other words, we don't take out children to a city attraction when we are wearing pajama pants and house slippers. Ridiculous.
Happy Spring Break, folks. If you are headed to the zoo, bring your camera. Not for pics of the kids, but to get images of those around you. I mean, geez.
1. Neither of us have tattoos of the names of other men or women. On our faces.
2. We don't restrain either of our children on leashes when we travel or go in public. In fact, have never leashed one of our children.
3. My kids eat sugar and yes, the horror, fast food. They don't, however, eat a bag of Sour Patch Kids and wash them down with a jug of Mountain Dew. (It works for Honey Boo Boo, though, so perhaps we should reconsider?)
4. We don't beat our kids. If we did, we would never do so in public.
5. We don't smoke. In a car. With the windows up. With the kids in the car. Whew.
6. Our 7-year-old daughter is not allowed to wear t-shirts with beer slogans on them. Again, she's 7. Her daddy can wear whatever he wants, but she is not promoting beer. Yet.
7. The words "Get Daddy his Copenhagen" have never come out of my husband's mouth. Or mine, for that matter.
8. My husband and I, we swear like sailors. BUT, not around our children. Especially not AT our children. When you say "I'm going to knock the x*%&#y! s... out of you" to your child, you need to step back, and give your kid over to Protective Child Services. Seriously.
9. I have never pulled a crisp stack of dollar bills out of my bra to pay for an ice cream cone. In fact, no money is in my undergarments.
10. We may not be the most stylish folks around, but we at least get dressed. In other words, we don't take out children to a city attraction when we are wearing pajama pants and house slippers. Ridiculous.
Happy Spring Break, folks. If you are headed to the zoo, bring your camera. Not for pics of the kids, but to get images of those around you. I mean, geez.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Spring Break Day One - The Breakfast Club Saves the Day
So, here's the thing. I've begun this dang blog nearly every single time with a confession of how crappy I am at it. I can't seem to get to writing it on a regular basis. Why? Uh, kids, actual paying jobs with deadlines, laundry and dishes, homework ... you know, the stuff called "life." I intend to write it more often, but I'll be honest, it'll probably never happen. Still today, a few small words motivated me to get to the computer and write something.
Saturday, March 24, 1984.
Yep. Those were the words. A few of you (if there's even anyone reading this silly thing) should know what I am referring to ... the one-and-only cult classic The Breakfast Club. You see folks, it's Spring Break here, which might as well be called "Mommy No Break." I finally got a few seconds to sit down and breathe, sans child tugging on my leg, so I flipped on the tv. What did I hear?
Saturday, March 24, 1984.
It only took those words to make me so super, uber happy. It's terribly sad, I know. Many people take a nice long jog and find happiness. Others read poetry. Some catch up with an old friend or meditate. I flip on the tv and find The Breakfast Club. I am thrilled. I woke up this morning and thought Spring Break might be the end of me, and that's on DAY ONE. As I am watching the sun set and the day come to a close, I realize, it only takes an eighties movie to save it.
I think The Breakfast Club revolves around some of the coolest characters ever, played by some of the most insanely awesome actors ever. It's quotable, memorable, funny, heartfelt, endearing, awkward, heartbreaking, hilarious, maddening, and brilliant. Big words, I know. I didn't even have to whip out the Thesaurus. Those suckers just popped right out because this flick is so deserving. If anyone ever asked me to write an essay describing who I think I am, as this motley, yet fascinating and inspiring, crew was assigned, I could only hope and pray I'd come up with something a fraction as great as their group response. I won't list all of my favorite quotes in fear of ruining it for the freak out there who might not know this film, by heart at that. Do yourself a favor, on a day that seems particularly stressful and crappy, send everyone away and make this your medicine. Memorize it. Watch it. This folks, is making Spring Break look pretty darn good ...
Saturday, March 24, 1984.
Yep. Those were the words. A few of you (if there's even anyone reading this silly thing) should know what I am referring to ... the one-and-only cult classic The Breakfast Club. You see folks, it's Spring Break here, which might as well be called "Mommy No Break." I finally got a few seconds to sit down and breathe, sans child tugging on my leg, so I flipped on the tv. What did I hear?
Saturday, March 24, 1984.
It only took those words to make me so super, uber happy. It's terribly sad, I know. Many people take a nice long jog and find happiness. Others read poetry. Some catch up with an old friend or meditate. I flip on the tv and find The Breakfast Club. I am thrilled. I woke up this morning and thought Spring Break might be the end of me, and that's on DAY ONE. As I am watching the sun set and the day come to a close, I realize, it only takes an eighties movie to save it.
I think The Breakfast Club revolves around some of the coolest characters ever, played by some of the most insanely awesome actors ever. It's quotable, memorable, funny, heartfelt, endearing, awkward, heartbreaking, hilarious, maddening, and brilliant. Big words, I know. I didn't even have to whip out the Thesaurus. Those suckers just popped right out because this flick is so deserving. If anyone ever asked me to write an essay describing who I think I am, as this motley, yet fascinating and inspiring, crew was assigned, I could only hope and pray I'd come up with something a fraction as great as their group response. I won't list all of my favorite quotes in fear of ruining it for the freak out there who might not know this film, by heart at that. Do yourself a favor, on a day that seems particularly stressful and crappy, send everyone away and make this your medicine. Memorize it. Watch it. This folks, is making Spring Break look pretty darn good ...
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
A New Year, A Not So New You
I am so glad January is over and we've moved into February. The first month of the year is a funny month to me. It's full of cleaning up, getting back into the routine, and resolutions. Ah, those resolutions.
I typically don't make resolutions. If I make some big resolution come January 1, one that I can't keep, it'll just disappoint me. I'll be all mad at myself, thinking I am a total failure. I mean, let's be honest. I am never going to be a size 0 so why resolve to trim down to one? Not gonna happen. Stop swearing? Nope. I have been talking like a sailor since I could, well, talk. Give up all Diet Coke? Not likely. What would my sweet friend at McDonald's do if I didn't drive thru her line daily? See, I know myself and know my limits. I know where I need to improve, but also know I simply don't want to badly enough. Not everyone is like this, though.
At a recent doctor's appointment, I was put in a room and told to wait (no surprise there, right). While counting the tiles on the ceiling, I overheard a woman outside my door talking with the nurse. "Surely I can't weight that much," she said. She proceeded to try to convince the nurse to alter her weight on her records. "I mean, these jeans weigh a lot. And, I think I am going to start my period soon. I know that a lot of this is water weight." I listened to this pitiful woman debate, and nearly threaten, this young pup of a nurse for what seemed to be 10 minutes. It was hilarious, sad, and totally crazy. I loved every minute of it.
Here's the thing. We all have something we want to change about ourselves. There's always room for improvement. But, is it worth strong-arming some 20-something in scrubs? I think not. So, while I try to do my best and be my best this 2013, I am going to resolve to do one thing well. I resolve to accept who I am. And that includes never pressuring a nurse, even if the number of the scales is absolutely terrifying. Small steps, folks. Small steps.
I typically don't make resolutions. If I make some big resolution come January 1, one that I can't keep, it'll just disappoint me. I'll be all mad at myself, thinking I am a total failure. I mean, let's be honest. I am never going to be a size 0 so why resolve to trim down to one? Not gonna happen. Stop swearing? Nope. I have been talking like a sailor since I could, well, talk. Give up all Diet Coke? Not likely. What would my sweet friend at McDonald's do if I didn't drive thru her line daily? See, I know myself and know my limits. I know where I need to improve, but also know I simply don't want to badly enough. Not everyone is like this, though.
At a recent doctor's appointment, I was put in a room and told to wait (no surprise there, right). While counting the tiles on the ceiling, I overheard a woman outside my door talking with the nurse. "Surely I can't weight that much," she said. She proceeded to try to convince the nurse to alter her weight on her records. "I mean, these jeans weigh a lot. And, I think I am going to start my period soon. I know that a lot of this is water weight." I listened to this pitiful woman debate, and nearly threaten, this young pup of a nurse for what seemed to be 10 minutes. It was hilarious, sad, and totally crazy. I loved every minute of it.
Here's the thing. We all have something we want to change about ourselves. There's always room for improvement. But, is it worth strong-arming some 20-something in scrubs? I think not. So, while I try to do my best and be my best this 2013, I am going to resolve to do one thing well. I resolve to accept who I am. And that includes never pressuring a nurse, even if the number of the scales is absolutely terrifying. Small steps, folks. Small steps.
Monday, December 31, 2012
What I Learned This Christmas ...
Christmas is a time to enjoy family and celebrate the birth of Jesus. From where I sit, a few days after the 25th, I realize it's a few things more than just that (not that that isn't enough). Folks, I have reflected and realized a lot this Christmas. Take note, my wisdom follows ...
1. Things bought at the dollar store often are not worth a dollar. Seriously, I think most items there are worth about $0.59. That's 59 cents, people. One dollar is too much. I have made a note to myself and it goes like this:
Dear Self,
You think you are saving money by shopping a the dollar store. You aren't. About an hour after Christmas, all the stocking stuffers bought at said discount store are now in the trash can. Thus, you didn't save a bit. You thew out about 11 bucks. Don't do it again.
Thanks,
Jen
2. The movie A Christmas Story plays for 24 hours on tv starting Christmas Eve and ending about 5 p.m. Christmas day. Some say this is overkill. In my family, it's not enough. Somehow, we weren't able to watch the movie even one time. Not once in 24 hours. So, we, meaning the Fraziers, need 48 hours of A Christmas Story.
3. On Christmas day, we start drinking mimosas and eating a crap load at about 7 a.m. By 11 a.m. I usually say, "I am not eating another thing. If I do, I'll vomit." I eat more and vomit none. Sad, but true.
4. The Barbies in our house are almost always naked. I mean, nada clothing. I always thought my daughter had some deep-rooted issues we might need to deal with, but, alas, I have figured it out... it is IMPOSSIBLE to get clothes on those dang dolls. Barbie clothes come slutty and tight, by nature. It took me an hour (literally) to get pants on Ken. I now understand why most Barbies are nekked. And, I am now fine with it, simply because getting something to cover them will cause you to have a nervous breakdown. Or you'll eat and drink a lot (see number 3).
5. My kids ate candy ALL day Christmas. In fact, I think that's all they ate. I told them the same thing I did on Halloween: "If you only eat candy, you'll throw up. You need fruit and vegetables and some water." I am wrong. A day of candy and nothing else and the kids were fine. Hyped up and a bit manic? Yep. But any puke? Nope. (Clearly I have an issue with vomit.)
6. A white Christmas really is the best. Christmas without snow is a bummer. (Thanks for the powder this year, Mother Nature!)
7. I FINALLY made something off Pinterest: homemade Christmas potpourri. It stinks. In future, I must go with my gut and look at Pinterest, but do not attempt. Again, look, but do NOT try and replicate. It ends up being a costly, frustrating, and disastrous mistake. Next time, go to the yuppie boutique and buy the expensive candle you want. Sure, you'll spend more than you want. But, it'll end up being less than if you tried to replicate the same scent in some Martha Stewart way. And, the store-bought version will smell a ton better. Remember: You are NOT Martha Stewart and you do not employ a staff.
8. All the cheesy stuff that's sold on the infomercials, well, that's money well spent. Dream lights. Those silly pillow pet stuffed animals that light up. Kids love them. Some ridiculous noise-making silly putty/Play-dough stuff. Kids love it. A microphone that wraps around the body? Money well spent. I see these commercials and think they are the cruelest things ever. They appeal to kids and stick parents right in the rump. It's like the grocery aisle. A bunch of junk that you are stuck buying. This year, I gave in and not one single cheesy item went unnoticed. The slippers that light up? Score. The pillow that is a nightlight? Score. Laugh all you want, but the midnight shopping thanks to HSN works. Plus, you get to catch up on all those C movie stars you've been wondering about (Hey there, Suzanne Somers!)
9. Any drippy movie on the Hallmark Channel or Lifetime seems horrible. I roll my eyes, my husband leaves the room. Then, 4 hours later we've gotten drawn into 2 flicks, back-to-back. Laugh all you want, but those cheesy channels put out some darn fine holiday entertainment. And, if you didn't catch you favorite C movie star on the HSN, you can probably see them on one of these movies. Added bonus.
10. And, lastly, cleaning up after Christmas sucks. I wish I had some insight on this, but it's quite simple. It's horrible and seems never ending. I worked hard for nearly a month to make that darn Elf look good (right, Sparky?), the least he could do it stick around and work his magic on the after-Christmas destruction. Selfish little sucker just heads back to the North Pole for some R & R (or he's probably on some beach in Tahiti) and Momma's left with a Hefty black trash bag and a broom. Happy and merry to all.
1. Things bought at the dollar store often are not worth a dollar. Seriously, I think most items there are worth about $0.59. That's 59 cents, people. One dollar is too much. I have made a note to myself and it goes like this:
Dear Self,
You think you are saving money by shopping a the dollar store. You aren't. About an hour after Christmas, all the stocking stuffers bought at said discount store are now in the trash can. Thus, you didn't save a bit. You thew out about 11 bucks. Don't do it again.
Thanks,
Jen
2. The movie A Christmas Story plays for 24 hours on tv starting Christmas Eve and ending about 5 p.m. Christmas day. Some say this is overkill. In my family, it's not enough. Somehow, we weren't able to watch the movie even one time. Not once in 24 hours. So, we, meaning the Fraziers, need 48 hours of A Christmas Story.
3. On Christmas day, we start drinking mimosas and eating a crap load at about 7 a.m. By 11 a.m. I usually say, "I am not eating another thing. If I do, I'll vomit." I eat more and vomit none. Sad, but true.
4. The Barbies in our house are almost always naked. I mean, nada clothing. I always thought my daughter had some deep-rooted issues we might need to deal with, but, alas, I have figured it out... it is IMPOSSIBLE to get clothes on those dang dolls. Barbie clothes come slutty and tight, by nature. It took me an hour (literally) to get pants on Ken. I now understand why most Barbies are nekked. And, I am now fine with it, simply because getting something to cover them will cause you to have a nervous breakdown. Or you'll eat and drink a lot (see number 3).
5. My kids ate candy ALL day Christmas. In fact, I think that's all they ate. I told them the same thing I did on Halloween: "If you only eat candy, you'll throw up. You need fruit and vegetables and some water." I am wrong. A day of candy and nothing else and the kids were fine. Hyped up and a bit manic? Yep. But any puke? Nope. (Clearly I have an issue with vomit.)
6. A white Christmas really is the best. Christmas without snow is a bummer. (Thanks for the powder this year, Mother Nature!)
7. I FINALLY made something off Pinterest: homemade Christmas potpourri. It stinks. In future, I must go with my gut and look at Pinterest, but do not attempt. Again, look, but do NOT try and replicate. It ends up being a costly, frustrating, and disastrous mistake. Next time, go to the yuppie boutique and buy the expensive candle you want. Sure, you'll spend more than you want. But, it'll end up being less than if you tried to replicate the same scent in some Martha Stewart way. And, the store-bought version will smell a ton better. Remember: You are NOT Martha Stewart and you do not employ a staff.
8. All the cheesy stuff that's sold on the infomercials, well, that's money well spent. Dream lights. Those silly pillow pet stuffed animals that light up. Kids love them. Some ridiculous noise-making silly putty/Play-dough stuff. Kids love it. A microphone that wraps around the body? Money well spent. I see these commercials and think they are the cruelest things ever. They appeal to kids and stick parents right in the rump. It's like the grocery aisle. A bunch of junk that you are stuck buying. This year, I gave in and not one single cheesy item went unnoticed. The slippers that light up? Score. The pillow that is a nightlight? Score. Laugh all you want, but the midnight shopping thanks to HSN works. Plus, you get to catch up on all those C movie stars you've been wondering about (Hey there, Suzanne Somers!)
9. Any drippy movie on the Hallmark Channel or Lifetime seems horrible. I roll my eyes, my husband leaves the room. Then, 4 hours later we've gotten drawn into 2 flicks, back-to-back. Laugh all you want, but those cheesy channels put out some darn fine holiday entertainment. And, if you didn't catch you favorite C movie star on the HSN, you can probably see them on one of these movies. Added bonus.
10. And, lastly, cleaning up after Christmas sucks. I wish I had some insight on this, but it's quite simple. It's horrible and seems never ending. I worked hard for nearly a month to make that darn Elf look good (right, Sparky?), the least he could do it stick around and work his magic on the after-Christmas destruction. Selfish little sucker just heads back to the North Pole for some R & R (or he's probably on some beach in Tahiti) and Momma's left with a Hefty black trash bag and a broom. Happy and merry to all.
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