Showing posts from October, 2007

Facing the Music, Going Blind, etc.

In a recent post I whined about having gone astray as far as my eating habits go. For the next few weeks after that I really did give it the old college try, but somehow my resolve would always vanish by the time Friday rolled around. Feeling ever more desperate, I finally emailed my Weight Watchers leader and asked for advice (because apparently I hadn't heard the whole "eat less, lose weight" rumor that's been going around). She told me to knock it off and get myself to a meeting. So this morning I dragged my considerable ass to a meeting (which includes, of course, a weigh-in). I really think this is my only hope for getting through the holidays. I need the accountability, I guess. Going to the meeting was tough. First I spent 15 minutes searching my closet for lightweight clothing. For half a second I wondered if it would be okay just to wear strategically placed gauze to the meeting. I didn't even wear earrings because who knows - that extra .0000056 of an o

In a Lather About Lots of Stuff

My recent attempts to reduce stress in my life are failing miserably. I think I am what people used to call a Type A personality. Believe me, I would give just about anything to be a different type, but I am bound to my DNA. (Mom, in case you are reading this . . . yes, I am saying it is your fault.) What's stuck in my craw today (yes, I have a craw): 1. I cannot get a full night's sleep because I share my bedroom with four males. Three of them are dogs (two of my own and one foster) and one is the man I married. Three of the four lick their own penis . . . All. Night. Long. The fourth one snores intermittently, just loudly enough to keep me up (he also sleepwalks, but that's a tale for another day). Gideon usually kicks things off at around 2 a.m. Then Joker remembers that he has a penis, too, and gets started. Karl isn't usually as bad. He is getting old (almost 10) and I guess his wiener doesn't hold that much appeal for him anymore. I am implementing a new poli

It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Craps Their Pants

I took Friday off to spend the day with my kid. I was excited about it and promised her a fun day. We started off the morning by heading to Michael's for a craft project with some kids from a local playgroup that we joined a few months ago. The project involved decorating a wee little totebag for Halloween (it was billed as a trick-or-treat bag but unless she plans to collect exactly one Hershey's miniature on Halloween, I don't think the bag is going to serve that purpose.) I steered A away from the permanent paints and handed her some stickers instead. She placed some pumpkins and skulls on her bag and then colored on it with a blue marker. She had a blast and seemed really proud of her creation. After we left Michael's we headed to the mall. As we pulled out of the Michael's parking lot, A promptly ripped the stickers off her totebag and shoved them in various crevices inside the car so that I can find them next July. I had a coupon for Build-Up-Our-Fortune-By-Bu

Le Bug du Tumble

The crab walk For the past six weeks A has been participating in a Tumble Bugs class at our local YMCA. She loves it. We already knew from a previous class that our kid is not the next Mary Lou Retton. She spent six months in a gymnastics class at the The Little Gym and still could not do a forward roll. Or any kind of roll. Or hang on the bar. Or stand on one leg. Mostly she would just run around and yell stuff at the other kids. I can already hear her future gym teacher saying, "This is not social hour, Miss M." Of course, who am I to talk? In gym class I always signed up for stuff like "Rec Games" and spent half the year playing bumper pool and ping pong. Bumper pool - I can't believe it's not in the Olympics. My friend J and I actually made a pact when we were freshman: we agreed to complete our entire high school career without playing a single organized sport. It was an easy pact to keep, for both of us. But back to my kid. The first gymnastics class

It's Too Much Very Hot

Sometimes the kid says stuff that is patently incorrect but is at the same time so cute that I can't bring myself to correct her. Earlier this morning she grilled up some plastic strawberries in a pink frying pan on her play stove. She then threw in a lemon for good measure. I was in the kitchen (the, um, real kitchen) as she came through, her face serious as she balanced the strawberries and lemon on a plastic yellow plate. "Don't touch it, Mama," she said solemnly. "It's too much very hot." She then delivered the piping hot fruit to her father. Lately she also seems to end every sentence with "huh" or "okay." ("Gideon's a sassy boy, huuuuh?") One of her favorite activities is to grab a bottle of cologne from my bathroom and sniff it. This morning she took a bottle, pried the lid off, and said, "Don't take it away, OKAYYYYY?" P thinks she is trying to employ Jedi mind tricks on us. As if we are going to sa

Some Kind of Citizen

Gideon, CGC My boy passed his Canine Good Citizen test on Monday night! The CGC is an American Kennel Club ( AKC ) certification. The dog must pass 10 tests in order to earn it. One of them involves completing a heeling pattern on a "loose leash." Asking Gideon to walk on a loose leash is tantamount to asking him to walk on the moon. So, as we were getting out of the car I asked him in plain English if he would consider, just this once, doing as I asked. And voila! Instead of pulling hard enough to win the Iditarod like usual, he actually heeled. Later this month he starts his third round of obedience classes. Sometime after that I'm planning to have him tested for TDI (Therapy Dogs Inc) certification. Giddy has a great temperament and I think he'd make a wonderful therapy dog. To appreciate Gideon's accomplishment, you have to know where he came from. In December of 2006 he was found near an animal shelter. He had been left in a crate by the road that runs pas

"I DO IT!" (Or, the Call of the Toddler in Captivity)

Portrait of a Tantrum "I DO IT!" I hear that about 874 times a day. It doesn't matter if letting her "do it" causes a small task to take six weeks. She is gonna do it come hell or high water. This brings back memories for my mom, who says that my middle sister was always yelling, "I DO IT BY MESELF!" Though they don't share any of the same DNA, my kid seems to have a lot in common with her headstrong auntie. One of our big challenges lately is that she wants to wear a Pull-up instead of a diaper. Her Pull-ups have Disney (Motto: you may as well just send us a check because we are gonna get your money anyway ) princesses on the front. There is also a smattering of colorful flowers in the crotch area, and the flowers go away when the kid pees in the Pull-up. The flowers are usually history within seconds, which tells you how well the potty-training is going. Not only does she want to wear a Pull-up, she insists on donning it herself. This always alwa

Yes, but at least she's not Chewbacca

I suffered, so that she doesn't have to "Claudia, you're in your 30's. Isn't it time you stopped telling that story?" No Mom, it's never time to stop. I must warn others, like a Public Service Announcement, you know? This is A's third Halloween. The first year she was a bee, last year she was a chicken, and this year she's a dragon. Each year I buy her a Halloween costume almost as soon as they hit the shelves. Why, you ask? Because I don't want her to have to be Chewbacca. Let me take you back a bit. The year was 1978. I was in the third grade. Like most kids, I was pretty psyched about Halloween. Free candy from the neighbors - what's not to like? I asked my mom repeatedly about my costume (what, oh what, would she pick out for me? And when?). Alas, she waited until Halloween day to buy my costume and all the good ones were gone. So she bought what they had left: Chewbacca. Keep in mind that Star Wars had come out and as you may recall, i