Nia, this morning at breakfast: “We get to watch American Idol tonight and have popcorn!”
Andrew: “No sweetie, not tonight.”
Nia, excitement dampened with disappointment: “Whyyyy?”
Andrew: “President Obama is going to talk on tv.”
Nia: “Again?! He was just on. He talks a lot.”
(In case you didn’t know, she “voted” for Obama in her school election so this is one reaction that has nothing to do with Republican or Democrat. It’s all Idol – a possible future political party.)
I have a secret to share and it’s not for all to know. Trust me. You will not want to read past this sentence if you don’t want to hear about my new love of Target bras.
I’ve been a Victoria’s Secret shopper for as long as I’ve been able to pick out my pretty things by myself. Now though, I’m loving me some Gilligan & O’Malley. They are comfortable, pretty, flattering, easy to adjust and are much, much cheaper than my former fave. (I got my G&O for $11.99 compared to the usual $35ish at VS.)
Now, I will still turn to my girl for the sexier things but as for the day to day, it’s Target all the way. Even Consumer Reports says you should consider a Gilligan & O’Malley. Their report was the reason I experimented and I feel so smart and economical now. Oh yeah, and uplifted if you know what I mean.
It’s no secret, I’ve always been a very wishy-washy person when it comes to politics or controversial issues. It drives Andrew crazy because he wishes I would just take a stand on something. Well, it seems I finally have formed an opinion and I’m actually going to put it out there for all to read and judge.
It all involves the coverage concerning the election. People rooting for Obama are pleased as punch when journalists “tough” question the McCain/Palin camp. “Yeah! Go get ’em Campbell Brown! Woo hoo Barbara! That’s the way to put them in their place!” Those for McCain get disgusted and cry out that “It’s not fair! They didn’t question Obama that way! Wah! Don’t be mean to Sarah! What did she ever do to you?”
Well, it’s all crap. It’s one thing for these “journalists” to want answers so they can better inform the public, it just doesn’t seem like that’s what they are really doing to me. In almost every Big Media-McCain/Palin interview I’ve witnessed, the reporter/anchor was rude, argumentative, confrontational and almost certainly showed which candidate they really want to win. (Which I was taught was a no-no for journalists but maybe they are teaching something else these days.) To me, it feels like these particular journalists are acting like the fans of a winning team that’s letting the lead slip through the cracks.
Does that mean I think McCain is going to win? I have no idea. Does it really matter? Are you serious? Haven’t we learned anything from history? It doesn’t matter who has the title of President before his (or for some of you *gasp* her) name, it will always be the fault of the person who previously bared that title and for those who supported that person, it will be their gain when the current titleholder earns praise.
None of these candidates are perfect. None of them are the answer to all that ails our country. Do people really believe that any of these people are going to make it all better? Or that they will make it any worse? It is my genuine feeling that it does not matter who is elected. We will still have problems. We will still have positives. We will still have struggles. We will still have laughter. We will still have debates. We will still have agreements. We will still be going through the motions. We will still adjust to change. No. Matter. Who. Is. President.
The following comments all come with a hint of snootiness from Stay-At-Home Moms I’ve come to know around town. They make it pretty clear that I’m no longer in their “club.”
“Oh, you’re putting the kids in child care?”
“I guess you just have to do what you have to do.”
“That drive is awful. I hated it and my kids were always so exhausted when I picked them up from day care.”
“You’re thinking about that day care? I’ve heard some unsettling things about that day care.” (FYI – We didn’t pick that day care.)
“My daughter didn’t like that After-School program.”
“You are going to hate it when it rains. The drive is even worse when it rains.”
“You’re going to leave for work that early?”
“You’re going to get killed on gas prices.”
“Well, if you say it’s worth it.”
“You have to drive how far every day?”
“Wow. That’s going to be a really long day for your kids.”
“I’m sure you are going to miss all that quality time you get to spend with Nate.”
As if I didn’t feel bad/guilty/unsure enough about going back to work. Thanks for pointing out the obvious and for the support. It would be different if they said what they said because they were genuinely concerned. They aren’t. They say it as they look down their nose at me. I try to tell myself that they would do the same thing if they were in our position and given this opportunity. Of course, I’m sure they would disagree.
Call me a narc. Call me a do-gooder. Call me justified. I’ll call myself a pissed off neighbor who is tired of people not respecting other people’s property.
While our next door neighbors are on vacation, we’ve been getting their mail for them. Friday night, I went out to get it but I saw two people sitting on the storm drain next to their house. I just thought it was two of our neighbors talking so I didn’t head for the mailbox. Instead, I got our garbage cans and brought them around the side of the house. As I was walking back inside, I noticed they were leaving so I waited for them to walk off and then went for the mail. I thought it was weird that the two girls cut through our yards, so I let Joey out so he could bark at them. I didn’t think too much of it all until I opened our neighbor’s empty mailbox.
First thought – Andrew must have gotten it already. No. I would have known that.
Second thought – They didn’t get any mail. No. They always have a ton of mail.
Third thought – What is that paper blowing around on the grass? Oh, and that ripped up envelope? CRAP! I think that’s their mail!
I looked around for more mail and my eyes caught a bunch of white paper stuffed in the storm drain. I grabbed a piece that’s not too far in and see it is indeed their mail.
I freak out, worried that they stole something with our neighbor’s financial information on it. I run inside to get Andrew and then run back outside to see if I see the girls anywhere. Sure enough, I see them down the street behind our house and what do you know – I see them open up another mailbox and look inside! I yell at them like some tough girl, “I see what you’re doing! I found the mail! PUNKS! I’m calling the police!” To all of that they reply, “Ma’am?” I run back inside and cross paths with Andrew who’s armed with a stick of some sort (at that time he did not know they were girls!). While he took off to chase them, I called the cops.
Andrew didn’t catch up with the girls but the officer did! The only bad thing about it all – he drove them back to our house so we could identify them! I say yes, it’s them but I don’t want to press charges, just give back the mail. “Ma’am, we didn’t take no mail ma’am.” I say, “Well then, could you give us the mail you found blowing in the wind while you were walking?” “We don’t have no mail ma’am.”
Turns out they live either in our neighborhood or close to us and they are 23 and 20 years old! (Here I thought they were just kids being kids.) The 23 year old actually even had a warrant out for her arrest! (Not sure for what.) Based off what we saw and another neighbor who saw them throw down two pieces of mail (another neighbor’s catalog credit card statement and our neighbor’s entire phone bill), they handcuffed the girls and took them away.
I’m just so freakin’ paranoid right now. They know where we live. They know we’re the ones who reported them. What if they retaliate? Nia and Nate’s rooms are in the front of the house. I’m so scared they, or someone they know, will do something that could hurt our sweeties as they sleep all tucked in nice and cozy. I want to move! I can totally see why people don’t report crime. The cop even asked if we owned a gun and told us to get one! That’s comforting!
This sucks! All we can do is move Nia’s bed away from the outside wall and pray the criminals aren’t crazy enough to want to hurt someone.
Did we do the right thing? What about the smart thing? What would you have done? Am I overreacting yet again? (Please don’t answer unless you’re going to help make me feel better! HA!)
So here it is. The blog I’ve been wanting to write but wasn’t sure how to put it all into words. To sum it up – due to restructuring at Andrew’s company, they eliminated his position.
Andrew. The West Point Graduate. Andrew. The Veteran. Andrew. The Overall Great Guy.
We know it wasn’t personal. It all came down to numbers but still, it’s all just so crazy.
We are now fortunately (if you could call it that!) living on a few weeks of severance while we both aggressively apply for job after job. Andrew has several head hunters helping him and some of my good friends in television news are doing what they can to help build up my confidence and get me back in a newsroom.
Despite it all, Andrew and I really aren’t that worried. We know that somehow we will be fine. We have our family. We have our health. We have some Spam in the pantry. (I originally bought that as a joke a few weeks ago, now it seems it might come in handy!)
As cliche’ as it may sound, it could always be worse and we do believe that this could lead to bigger and better things for us. Fingers crossed.
For the past year, I’ve been working pretty hard to lose weight and for a while there I was holding steady at a range I was content with, 130-132. Recently though, my numbers have been going higher and higher and I’m looking for a way to kick my butt back in gear so I thought telling on myself might help.
I’ve been thinking about why I’m not losing weight/holding steady anymore and here’s what I’ve come up with:
Before I started writing this post, I found my old post where I talked about wanting to lose weight. At that time (last August), I was happy with weighing 135ish. Now though, that number makes me sad. Now when I see that number on the scale, I immediately start self-loathing. It’s always been my worry that I’ll never be satisfied. That even when I do reach my goal of 125, it won’t be good enough. I’ve gotten close a few times over this past year (128 was my lowest), but each time I creep back up to the 130 range (and now 136). It’s ridiculous because now I feel that if I could just get back to 130ish I’d be happy.
I hope this confessional post will help give me the push I need to get back on track. It all starts tonight with dinner.
Is there any Catholic church out there that actually genuinely welcomes children?
I just read a new announcement concerning children on our church’s website and it left me really downhearted. It is basically a list of rules our church wants parents and children to follow. While I understand the need to have rules because many people are rude and don’t respect property or clean up after themselves, it still makes me feel like our children are not wanted there.
It would certainly not be the first time. I recently wrote about my concerns with having Nate in church, but before that, I experienced the feeling at two different Savannah churches. One when Nia was an infant and she had started to get a little fussy. I was already sitting in the last row and was about to get up to take her outside when an usher came up to me and told me that I would be more comfortable in the nursery, oh yeah, and you’re not allowed to have food (Cheerios to help keep Nia occupied) in church either. The next experience happened this past winter. Andrew, Nia, Nate and I went to church with Anna Marie, Ella and Maggie. We were there early and sat in the back of the church at the end of the pew for easy escape. An older man chose to sit directly in front of us even though he saw we had 4 small children. Of course they are going to make noise. They are children. Two of them are toddlers. If the noise level even hinted that it was going to be distracting, we’d take the culprit outside. That wasn’t good enough for the man in front of us. Just as Andrew was getting up to leave with Nate, the man turned around and said, “You know, there’s a cry room for children like yours.”
We were so disgusted. Andrew replied, “Yes, I know sir” and got up and walked into the standing-room-only cry room where he was about to go anyway to calm Nate. When Andrew got back to the pew, he and the man exchanged some words which led to the man asking Andrew if he wanted to “step outside.” What?! Not only was that crazy because the man was like 70 and walked with a cane, but as Andrew said to him, “Are you serious? We are in church! You’re ridiculous.”
Shouldn’t church be the one place you can receive compassion and acceptance? Shouldn’t it be where people offer a helping hand or a sympathetic smile not a sigh of annoyance or a look of disdain? Shouldn’t it compel people to offer even the smallest act of kindness like letting a car pull out in front of you in the church parking lot?
All I want is to worship and feel like I’m part of a community. To feel welcomed and loved, not scolded and filled with resentment and discouragement. Here we are, trying to raise our children to follow a religious path and to be loving, patient and accepting as we’re told to be by the Bible, but we keep hitting roadblocks. I thought church is supposed to help clear the road, not set up the obstacles.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m expecting too much out of church. I just know what I feel and need. All I can do is pray for the grace and strength to not let those obstacles push us off the path. I believe all that matters is that we keep God present in our lives and keep trying to do the right thing – no matter how many bumps we hit. After all, that’s the way it should be, right?
Yes, like the title says, this post is all about my bras. It will not be obscene or perverted or erotic (well, not intentionally anyway). Will it offer more information than some of you may care to know? Well, if you don’t want to know why I feel the need to have five different sizes of bras then you probably have already read too much.
First there’s the 34B. I remember this particular bra fondly. It was my first sexy one. I got it when I was in college and I had happy, young girls. I tried this one the other day. HA! Very funny and very tight. So you’d think I would have tossed it, right? Yeah, I tossed it. Right back into the drawer. What am I thinking? I don’t even want to be that size anymore – not when I used to be a…
34C. This is my proudest and biggest collection of bras. I wore these during my last college years (I thank the pill!) and up until my first pregnancy pushed me into another size – I’ll get to those in a short paragraph. Anyway, I still have maybe 5 of these tucked away with care. I tried them on and it was quite pitiful. They were also too tight around but the girls got lost in there. The bras wanted to support something and I don’t have anything to offer them, yet I just can’t let them go. A part of me (that part that still wants to weigh 125 or less) believes that maybe someday I’ll get to pull out the 34C’s and actually strut around in them again. (Not that I ever really strutted in them but maybe I would if I got to wear them again. Who knows, maybe I’d do a few flips and break it down or something. Why not? I think a crazy celebration would be in order.)
There’s two other C’s chillin’ in the drawer too. The 36 and 38C’s came into my life after having the babies. I think they were actually a little too small looking back on it. Breast-feeding really accentuated the positive and I shouldn’t have kept them confined! Oh yeah, as far as pregnancy and nursing bras go, they are not kept in my everyday bra drawer so I don’t count them on my “why in the world do I still have these” list. Besides, who knows what will happen – I might need those special ones again. (Not that we are planning to need them again!)
That leads me to the present day ah-tah size. I have no freakin’ clue. I thought I read that breast-feeding was supposed to help keep the girls still in the ga-ga category. HA! What a crock. I even tried it with both babies thinking that it would improve matters. (Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t just do it because it was supposed to be best for the boobies, but of course, also because it’s supposed to best for the babies.) All that information aside, I am now trying to manage a 36B. It’s not my perfect size but it works ok. You know, until my chest mysteriously grows overnight or until I go let some lady at Victoria’s Secret size me up and then, yet again, probably add another bra size to my stash.
So, was it good for you?
Teaching Nia about germs has turned her into more than a germophobe – she’s a misunderstood germophobe.
According to Nia, a little girl she didn’t know (let’s call her Sally) called her mean. Nia says it’s all because Sally wanted to play with Nia’s new My Little Ponies but Nia told Sally she didn’t want to let her play with them because then she would get Nia’s germs.
I mean, Nia was just looking out for Sally’s well-being right? It wasn’t like Nia was saying, “Ew. I don’t want you to touch my ponies because you got cooties.”
Maybe Sally’s mom/dad still have to teach her about how to be a proper and considerate germophobe.
Are You Zhazha? 
Say what?