In Which I Throw My Hands Up and Admit the Obvious

Look, jodifur has sucked lately, I get it. One sentence posts don't cut it, I know that. But I've posted here and here all week, and I've been in the longest trial known to man. I like to think I can be all things to all people. Part-time job, mom to pre-schooler, wife, and blogger extraordinaire. But lately, the blogger thing has suffered a bit. And I'm sorry. But, today is going to be no exception. Because I'm going to Sex and the City the Movie tonight with my mommy friends. And I plan to start drinking as soon as this is posted. (Yes, it's 7 am, it's been that kind of week). I decided to make it up to you I would update you on some old posts. Yes, I found my gift card. I put it inside the birthday card Doug had given me. I'm sure it made sense to me at the time. And this post was because I got on the scale one morning and was up 5 pounds. And it wasn't my time of the month or anything. And the next day, the five pounds were magically gone. Think my scale is broken? Please go yell at Jen. I now want to buy this dress in every color and my husband really might kill me, since I told him I was saving the gift card for fall because I have enough spring clothes. But I don't have anything like this and I need it in all 4 colors! And I have a question, what the fuck is up with twitter? I love twitter, but why can't I paginate? I want to see old tweets, is that so wrong? And it's always down! Preview of next week when jodifur is back in full swing, the hilarious tale of walking into the courthouse to do the closing of a 4 day trial and having the heel of you high heels break! It's a good one.

Time To Pop Some Popcorn

We have resubscribed to netflix after a few years off. We find ourselves watching a lot of movies again. So, tell me,what should I see? And I promise, real posts, very, very soon.

Labels: Random TVness

I Just Have One Thing to Say

For as much time as I spend at the gym, I should weigh 9 pounds, total. So why is the scale going up instead of down? ***Sorry my last couple of posts have been so short. I'm in the middle of a trial and am spending all my free time banging my head against a wall and trying to figure out if I can quite my job and become a sommelier.

And Now For A Totally Random Off the Wall Question

For those of you who have caller ID, be it on your cell phone or your home phone, do you answer the phone like you know who it is, i.e., hi mom, hi honey, hi Kim, or do you just say hello? I just say hello, and make the person ask for me or Doug and acknowledge themselves, unless it's Doug, then I just say hi. Which is weird, why don't I just act like I know who is calling, which I do? Is it because when I was taught phone manners we didn't have caller ID? Will Michael just say hey Bob? I have no idea why I thought of this, but I felt like it was important enough to share.

Sometimes I Am Absolutely Convinced I Am Raising a Serial Killer

My thesis in college was on serial killers. Yes, I wrote a 100 page paper on serial killers. Incidentally, when my father found out he asked me if he had done something wrong. And, ironically, if I watch a scary movie, or even a scary movie preview, I can't sleep. The hallmark of each and every killer I studied was a lack of empathy. They were lacking a conscious. One day last week when I picked Michael up from daycare my daycare provider informed me Michael had hit another child with a toy. And, when she put him in time out, he laughed. He could care less he was being punished. I have a similar problem at home. Time outs don't work, taking toys away don't work, in short, nothing works. I've thought about telling him no TV, but since he normally doesn't watch TV until after dinner, I'm not sure if he will get it. If he hits at noon, will he understand no TV at 6? I don't think so. And I don't believe in hitting children, so spanking is not an option for me. And, even if I did believe in spanking, hitting for hitting makes no sense. I worry he doesn't have a conscious. The night of the hitting incident, I asked him to tell Doug what had happened and he didn't want to. He looked ashamed. New punishment, he has to tell Daddy every single thing he does wrong in a day. We may have to build in some more time at bedtime.

Quote Book Saturday, Literary Edition, Again

I just finished Emily Griffin's Love the One You're With, and it is fabulous. Honestly, I couldn't put it down. It's about being married, but never really getting over a former love. You know, that guy. The one you always wonder what if....what if you married him. It really echoes what I often say, love is a choice. This is fluffy chic lit, yes, but it's also heart wrenching, and very real. "There are people and places and events that lead you to your final relationship, people and places and events you'd prefer to forget or at least gloss over. In the end, you can slap a pretty label on it-like serendipity or fate. Or you can believe that it's just the random way life unfolds." "But maybe that's what it all comes down to. Love, not as a surge passion, but as a choice to commit to something, someone, no matter what obstacles or temptations stand in the way. And maybe, making that choice again and again, day in and day out, year after year, says more about love than never having a choice to make at all." "love is the sum of our choices, the strength of our commitments, the ties that bind us together."

A Rite of Passage

When Doug got home last night I heard a noise, no, it was more like a medley.

I looked at him and said, "you hear that?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"THE ICE CREAM MAN" we looked at each other and screamed in unison.

"Michael put your shoes, screw it Doug, just carry him," I yelled as I saw the truck rounding a corner. "Oh, no, I hope it stops."

Michael puts his hand out like Diane Ross and yells, "stop, ice cream truck."

And it did.

Doug and I had not dinner yet, so it was all Michael. We let him pick whatever he wanted.

And just to prove that marketing works....

Yep, that's a Dora Popsicle. Of everything he could have picked from the Good Humor truck, he picked the Dora Popsicle.

I managed to steer him away from Sponge Bob though.

My Husband is Going To Kill Me* **

*Doug, if today is the day you choose to read this blog, just x out of the screen now. Really. **OK, he is not going to kill me, but he is going to be really mad. Doug got me an Ann Taylor gift card for my birthday. I was a tad disappointed when it hit me I was not in fact getting an i phone, but quickly rebounded when I realized I could go shopping! And maybe I could convince him I need to do it alone! I can't find the gift card anywhere. I've torn through the house, my purse , everywhere. Only thing I can think is it got thrown out with wrapping paper from other gifts. HELP ME. There was a significant amount of money on the card. And Doug knows I was not thrilled with the gift but I don't think he wanted me to throw it out. Maybe if I call Ann Taylor and cry they will send me another one.

Things I Have Learned By Watching What Not To Wear

1. My self esteem is not nearly as low as I thought it was. 2. Flip flops and sweats are bad, yet I love them. 3. I am a shoe girl. 4. Being thin does not mean you love your body. 5. The people on What Not To Wear have issues far beyond the clothes. 6. Accentuate the smallest part of your body. 7. I can wear an Empire waist. 8. Accessorize. 9. I want Stacey and Clinton to be my best friends. 10. I still leave the house very What Not To Wear.

What The Fuck?

I just got Michael's preschool packet. Normal stuff, medical packets, emergency contact forms, blah, blah, blah. And then I look at the calendar. Because of my work schedule, Michael will have two different teachers, a Monday, Wednesday, Friday teacher and a Tuesday, Thursday teacher. And because of that we have two back to school night, two parent teacher conferences, two visitation days, etc. etc. None of these events offer childcare. So, I figured Doug and I could switch off. Nope, both parents are required to go. To all of them. Am I supposed to leave my kid alone? Because it's so easy to get a sitter on a weeknight. Sometimes I wonder who thinks of this nonsense.