Soft, Sweet And Delicious

I'm talking about muffins here. No, not the kind you eat. The kind that sits above your waistband. And I have an extraordinary muffin top going right now!

I've decided that if the extra flab is called a "spare tire", then suddenly the whole notion sounds extremely undesirable-- but who doesn't like muffins for Pete's sake? In fact, if I didn't already have a muffin top, I might be inclined to get one. A blueberry one. Costco-size.

Or maybe I'm still just trying to make myself feel better about the vacation weight I have yet to lose....

Nah!

I Am So Tired Right Now

Today hubby and I took the kids over to some dear friends' house so that hubby could help his buddy haul a bunch of heavy stuff out of their basement and to the dump. Their house is fun; playground, good food, toys galore.... And with seven children (including our two) it was also very busy! But, nonetheless, when my friend announced that she needed to take her oldest child to a music lesson at the same time the guys planned on making their run to the dump, I offered to hold down the fort with the remaining six children. Music lessons are what-- a half an hour? Me, alone with 6 children for 30 minutes.... For some reason I thought I was capable of this.

At first it was a cake walk. The baby was napping, the two older children were busying themselves with a game, and the three "little" guys were running around the backyard having a grand ol' time. I'm good, I thought-- really good. I should have, like, a couple more kids or something because I've got this whole mom thing down. At some point in my little fantasy the baby started crying (apparently she's normally a marathon napper-- just not while I'm there) and I went in to check on her. And...ewww...bad smells were emanating from the crib. I picked her up and sure enough; poopy diaper. That wakes 'em up every time, dangit! I changed her and came walking down the hall to dispose of the offending diaper when I heard a sound that went a little something like this: CRASH! I looked over to see my friend's 3-year old standing amidst a pool of shattered glass and water. He'd come in for a drink and accidentally knocked over the glass of water on to the tiled kitchen floor. The other boys rushed in to check the scene out and one of them walked right into the shards.

"Nobody move! You guys all need to stay out of the kitchen while I clean this up!" I said in my sweetest serious voice. But it was too late-- the little guy's foot was bleeding. I sat him down and checked it out-- fortunately it looked pretty minor. So I handed the baby off to her older brother and tracked down some rags to sop up the water so I could then sweep. The glass seemed to have shattered in millions of microscopic slivers and spread to the four corners of the kitchen. Amazing. Truly amazing! And keeping the curious children away from the hazard zone was a delightful battle.

After I got that cleaned up (and warned the children that shoes were now a requirement inside the house-- just in case) the 3-year old needed to go potty...now! We rushed to the bathroom and I began to lift up the toilet seat. "No," he said, "I sit". Oh, dear. I sat him down and realized just in time that he wasn't pointing his little drain pipe down. I cringed, and then poked my finger on it before the flow began. Phew! That was a close one! And awkward....

Then there was more crying. Who's crying now?? I ran out to see the older boys getting into it a bit. Something about spitting.... TV? Who wants to watch TV!? We found a show on Nickelodeon and...ahhhhhh. Relief. I looked at the clock-- it had been 2 hours since the other three adults had left. 2 hours?? What happened to 30 minutes? I rang hubby's cell phone and he informed me they were at Starbucks. Starbucks. Somebody was going to die, because I was going to murder them.

I think I sat in a stupor on the way home. Wow. I have a new appreciation for our friends. Somebody should give them a trophy or something, because they are both very sane, intelligent, good-natured people. On my best day I'm not sane, intelligent or good-natured (just ask hubby)-- and I have less than half the amount of children they have.

So anyway, hubby isn't so sure about the vasectomy he's scheduled for on Friday. But I am. I am very, very sure.

Um, Do I Know You?

We all know how much I hate waiting rooms, but my little trick of taking my iPod in with me has dramatically decreased any awkward social interactions I might experience (much to my delight). But this last time I took LM to his Occupational Therapy appointment I had to bring Ruby Jane with me, and I didn't want to shut her out of my consciousness and leave her at the mercy of the strangers therein. So, I came sans iPod.

Big mistake. There was a woman in the waiting room with three children. She was one of those women who defies any notions of age. Just from a visual appraisal, you'd have to guess her age span as being anywhere between 31 and 48. She has a smooth, plump face devoid of any wrinkles. Yet, her hair is completely gray. Her voice is low, but not gravely. And she dresses like a Kindergarten teacher. Her three children are all under the age of 5, and no, they are not adopted.

Her daughter, age two or three, was not able to respect my personal space. And as long as she didn't bite me or draw on me with her markers, I figured I could tolerate the fact that she was using my feet as her pillow. But when she started attempting to look up my shorts I began to feel a tad uncomfortable. I nervously glanced at her mother a few times to see if she might relieve me, but her mother was very busy reading a book. Oh well, I thought, and crossed my legs tightly. But then her baby crawled over and pulled himself up on my leg. I smiled at him, and as my reward he proceeded to lick my knee until drool began to drip down to my flip-flops. I was screaming inside my head. Stranger-baby mucus! Dripping! Down my leg! This time I looked at the mother more pointedly; please save me, lady! No such luck. I gently shifted in my seat to disengage the baby and fortunately it worked. Okay, I can deal with this!

Then the little girl needed to go potty. This, fortunately, got the attention of the mother. And on her way out she asked me, "will you watch the baby while I'm gone?" and didn't wait for a response before making her exit. Er...? I tried to imagine leaving my baby with a stranger, even just for five minutes in a medical office, and couldn't fathom the notion. The baby must have had the same thought because he began to cry. What do I do now?? I bent down and began to thrust toys in his direction, smiling fervently (too much so?) and cooing, "it's okay!" over and over again. I didn't want the lad bawling when his mommy dearest returned-- what if she thought I pinched him or something?? Fortunately, he settled down before she came traipsing back in, space-hogging daughter in tow.

That is when Ruby Jane leaned over and whispered to me, "next time, let's sit over there", pointing through the glass to the fabulously uneventful "adults only" waiting area. I nodded, wondering why I didn't think of that. She is so much smarter than I am....

Quotes Galore!

Wow, some of these quotes are almost a month old! Guess I have some catching up to do.

1. (I overheard this one while on LM's end-of-the-year school field trip.)

Boy: (inspecting a juniper bush) "These berries are poisonous!"

LM: "Let's feed them to Natalie!" (the class bully).

Boy: "That would kill her!"

LM: "Oh, okay, we'll let her live."

2. Hubby: (speaking about Ruby Jane) "That kid has a sweet tooth!"

Ruby Jane: "Actually, all my teeth are sweet."

(I guess, by now, we all know who she gets that from....)

3. LM: "Popi, your feet smell like macaroni and cheese."

4. LM: (working hard to make a spaceship out of Legos, but getting frustrated) "Mom, I need some terribly big help right now!"

5. LM: (as Popi was trying to entertain him at a restaurant) "Popi, do you think this is all about you?"

6. LM: Mom, did you leave the "r" in Barbecue Sauce?" (our fish).

Me: "...yeah...?"

LM: "And it didn't work?"

Me: "...??...."

(I'm stumped. You tell me, how does one answer a question so profound?)

Bonus: Talk about profound! Like father like son....

Hubby: (as he presented our gift card to the waiter to pay for our check) "This gift card has money on it."

(The waiter paused for a moment, expecting a less obvious point to follow, but when hubby offered none he took our gift card politely and left. Perhaps hubby was aware of some new crime spree involving the use of zero-balance gift cards at eating establishments and he was simply reassuring our waiter? Oh, hubby!)

I Cannot Believe I'm Sharing This!

7 pounds, folks. Yes, that is how much I gained on vacation. Isn't that just delicious? Okay, that definitely accounts for my barely fitting pants. Yeah-- 7 pounds is nothing to sneeze at.

So.... Pity me, laugh at me, give me an A+ for effort, but DO NOT noticeably look me up and down next time you see me, as tempting as it will be now that I've confessed. (Wait until you think I'm not looking, then go for it.) For expediency I'll tell you that the fat cells gathered mostly in my lower-abdomen and hip/butt/thigh area-- so skip the full body scan and just target those areas. Once again, the fat cells failed to muster their forces in my...er...bosom.

Dang! All that work for nothing!!

Back To Reality!

I just returned from a lovely vacation. It was everything a great vacation is; full of good food, great people, and grand times. My love tank is so full right now! But, that's not the only full thing around here. My pants are too. Uh, wait-- that came out wrong. What I mean is, my pants are snugger now than they were before I left. How can that be? How can pants go from fitting fine to just barely fitting in the matter of a week? Oh, I'll tell you! I will tell you right now!

I ate a lot of food last week. A LOT. If I saw it and it looked good, I ate it. If I saw it and it didn't look so good, I ate it anyway. If I was hungry I ate, if I wasn't hungry I ate.... Basically I was shoving food down my throat 24/7 because, heck, I was on vacation! Isn't that what you do on vacation? And if you think I was munching on raw almonds and dried fruit, think again! Butter, cream, toaster pastries, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, seafood, pasta.... These things are not your hip's friends. And yet, I indulged in them as though I was 21 again. (Remember those days? When you could eat a horse and actually lose 10 pounds? Yeah, those days are gone.)

Now that I'm home reality is setting in once again. As I pulled my pants on this morning, wriggling a bit to get them up (you know that dance, right?) and then sucking in to get them zipped, I realized something. I realized that every calorie you consume on vacation comes home with you. How unfair is that?! And the sad thing is, I would do it again if given half a chance. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment. Er...make that just a glutton.

Vulnerability Is...

...being in your hubby's bachelor buddy's bathroom, pants pooled around your ankles and squatting precariously over the bachelor toilet, and suddenly realizing there was a second door leading to the bathroom that you did not close upon entering, and then hearing male voices in the next room and willing yourself to pee faster, faster, faster before one of them accidentally pops their head in and sees more than either of you ever wanted.