The Radio Knows!!

Hellooooo.... Anybody out there?

Tap, tap, tap. Is this thing on?

I have a theory I'd like to postulate. How often a radio station plays your favorite song is inversely proportional to how much you'd like to hear it. However, my companion theory is that songs you hate will be played on a nonstop loop. Yes Single Ladies, What About Now and Kristy, Are you Doing Okay, I'm talking to YOU.

And for those of without iPods (or even a generic mp3 player), this can be maddening. I recently fell in love with a song. This song, to be exact (I'd embed the video but I can't). I didn't listen to it for ages because, to be honest, I doubted I would like a song by a band named The Airborne Toxic Event. It sounded too...toxic. But then I listened to the song and I was hooked. And guess what? Now they NEVER play it.

And then just two days ago I heard a new song by Manchester Orchestra that was touted as the newest of the new. So I listened. And I liked it. Have I heard it since? No, no I haven't. In case you want to hear it, it's here. Also, I just found out they're from Atlanta. I also just found that their album doesn't drop until the 21st, so maybe I'll hear the song more in the coming weeks. Kewl, as Punkin would say.

Do you have any theories, conspiracy or otherwise, that you've come up with? Share.

Alert the Media

A momentous event occurred in my house this week. We threw away our last pull up. Punkin, at three and half years old, is now sleeping without a pull up at night. That means that for the first time in over 6 years, nobody in my house is wearing a diaper or a pull up. Wow.

While I'm thrilled that we no longer have that expense, what it really means is that there are no babies in my house anymore. And while I do enjoy that, it is definitely bittersweet.

I didn't really feel sad when I gave away my maternity clothes. And I only felt a small twinge of sadness when we sold the crib that both my kids slept in. But this, this is surely proof that there are no more babies. That they are growing up.

I remember someone once told me that as parents we always celebrate the firsts with our children -- first smile, first steps, first words. But we don't often recognize the lasts -- last bottle, last diaper, last time they sit in your lap. But that feels too sad. Too backward looking. I'm enjoying the people that my children are becoming. I loved them as babies, but I relish in their peoplehood. So, I'm going to try not to be too sad about no more pull-ups. We're moving on. To bigger and better things.

Still Kickin'

Rumors of my demise are greatly exxagerated. Just not feeling very bloggy these days. And now it' s become one of those things that I kind of feel guilty about...neglecting my poor little blog. But Mr. Daddy told me that I should at least let you guys know what's up, in case you're worried.

I'm fine. Just not very inspired.

Sixty Hours. And Counting.

Y'all.

I have now been 60 hours without power and no idea when we'll have it back. They say today, but I no longer trust "the man."

Sixty hours without power at my house means 60 hours without water because our well is electrically powered. Sixty hours without water means, for those of you playing along at home, 60 hours without toilets. Yeeeeah.

On Sunday when the snow started to fall, I was ecstatic. When the kids were having their first real snowball fight I was thrilled. When I gave them their first taste of snow ice cream, you couldn't have made me any happier. And when the power initially went off, my pioneer spirit kicked into gear. We bundled up. We read stories by the booklight that Bubba gave me for Christmas. We piled into beds together and told stories and sang songs. And at 8:00 p.m., we went to sleep.

My pioneer spirit started to wane when we woke on Monday to still no power, which meant NO COFFEE, but more importantly, still no toilets. Oh you can use them, you just can't flush them. Yeeeeah.

By Monday afternoon, I'd had enough. There is only so long that four people can use two toilets without flushing them, ya know what I'm sayin'? So we went to a hotel. And THAT my friends, was probably the best $79 I've ever spent.

Both kids were out of school yesterday and we had nowhere to go. So we went to Starbucks, then to Barnes & Noble (where FADKOG will be pleased to know that I purchased TWO books for use of their train table for an hour). We went to Old Navy. I even took both of them to my office for an hour. We finally went to my mom's house after we learned her power had been restored, and made plans to sleep there last night in case our power still wasn't on.

It wasn't. And still isn't. Bubba's school is still closed because most of our county is still without power. THANK GOD Punkin's school was open today or you might have heard my head explode from wherever you are. We have crap strewn from hither to yon and my car looks like we've been living in it -- which is actually starting to seem like a good plan.

I've heard different rumors about the power situation -- that our power will be on today or that we won't have power until Friday. Yesterday on my way back to my mom's from my house where I was picking up a fresh change of clothes for everyone, I saw about 8 power trucks parked outside a local restaurant (that DOES have power, for the record.) I pulled over to inquire about the ETA of electricity for my neighborhood. I was polite, but I felt like screaming at them "NO EATING, ASSHOLES! BACK TO WORK!!"

So. Here I am. At work, which is actually sweet relief. Pray for me. Or send alcohol. Or both.

Updated to add: Power was restored around 2:30 this afternoon, thank God. I've spent the evening tossing an entire refrigerator's worth of just purchased food and doing a boatload of laundry. Good times, good times. But at least I'm home.

Snow!

Real! Live! Snow! At our house!

All Signs Point to Yes

You know, I've discovered another one of those secrets that other parents do not tell you before you have children of your own. And it was, and continues to be, quite a shock. I had no idea how often I would feel like I have no idea what in the hell I'm doing.

Sure, there have been times when I've trusted my gut and I turned out to be right about something, but there have been many, many more times where I've worried myself sick about whether the path I've chosen is the right one.

Bubba's eating habits -- his pickiness, to be precise, was one of my first worries. But those, for the most part, have straightened themselves out. I make what I make and he's required to eat some of it, but he doesn't have to clean his plate. But he doesn't get anything else either.

But it's dealing with Punkin, particularly here lately, that I wonder if I've lost all my skills. I'm constantly questioning whether my course of action in dealing with her temper tantrums are the best path. Her strong will feels like it's breaking mine. And I don't know what to do. I try to let her do for herself as much as I can but there are times when I simply must take charge and she often will just go beserk. We just had one of our bedtime go-rounds and right now I'm feeling frazzled, unhappy and very unsure of myself.

In addition to all this, we're now faced with the decision about whether to start her in pre-k in the fall. Her birthday is the day before the cut-off date, but because school starts so freakin' early around here, she'll still be three when she starts pre-k. And frankly, I'm not sure that's a good idea. She's definitely smart enough, but I really worry about her emotional maturity. I spoke to her teacher today who seemed to think that it would be a good idea to go ahead and start her, but she went on to warn me that we need to keep in the back of our minds that the possibility could exist that because she's starting early she might have to repeat a grade at some point. She said that this was only a possibility -- but sheesh! I feel like repeating a grade, even a very early grade will stigmatize her.

Ugh. My brain is tired from just thinking about it. I just wish that sometimes I could appoint someone else to make all my decisions for me. Any body interested in helping me? The pay is crap, but I can give you some wine and I bet we'll have a pretty good time.

Maybe Those Experts Know What They're Talking About

I'm feeling better today, thanks for asking. Not so grouchy, though this morning did not start off well. Also, I'm supremely busy at work right now with our biggest event of the year coming up, plus my newsletter is due in two weeks and I'm not feeling quite as good about this one as I have the others.

BUT, I just got back from my exercise class and I'm feeling pretty good. Must be those endorphins everybody's always talking about. I, frankly, had never encountered them before. When I was running (very briefly) in college, I kept waiting for that runner's high you hear so much about. I never did find that mythical beast, just the shakes after I finished my first 5K.

But when I get home from my exercise class I feel like I could do anything. I have the urge to fight the piles of crap that are lying everywhere. The pile of folded clothes mocks me! I want to take on the world! But unfortunately (fortunately?) it's late and there's only so much I can get done. Also, here I am blogging when I could be sweeping. Oh well.

Anyway, I fully credit this class with helping me reach my goal weight. Back in January I was .4 pounds (that's point four pounds, not four pounds) away from goal. The next week I was EXTRA good. I didn't count my points, but I'm pretty good now with figuring out what I need to eat to lose/maintain. I didn't even eat our Friday night pizza that week. And when I went in on January 19th for my weigh in, I fully expected to be at or below goal. But when I stepped on the scale, I had GAINED .8 pounds. Which now meant that I had to lose 1.2 pounds to meet goal!!

My leader told me not to get discouraged, but I did. I basically went on a bender for the next two weeks, eating pretty much whatever I wanted. And I felt my jeans start to get tight. And I got really pissed at myself. So, I signed up for this class because usually when I'm exercising I try to eat well so that I don't undo all my hard work. If I'm going to have to sweat off the calories, it makes me think twice about what I put in my mouth.

Also, I'm going to be 37 this year. Thirty-seven! That year is significant for me because that is how old my grandmother was when she died (in 1940). That is young, y'all. I can remember when my own mother turned 37 she started running and I can now understand this compulsion for health. You want to feel alive. You want to do everything you can to stay alive, to be healthy, to increase your odds of a long life. To see your babies grow up.

So, I get back on the wagon. I watch what I eat. I am (finally) exercising. And I feel good.

Now, let me go tackle that load of laundry.