Back in January, I decided I was tired of whining about the same ten pounds I’d been meaning to lose for the last 7_8 years. (I’m a slow learner.) So, I joined Weight Watchers. I just waltzed right in and stepped on the scale. To my surprise, I didn’t need to lose 10 pounds. I needed to lose 25!
It took 6 months, but I did it!I lost my weight. Then THAT wsn’t good enough for Weight Watchers, I had to KEEP it off for 6 weeks. That was harder than losing the weight. But I did that too! Feel free to put your coffee down and clap. Go ahead. Go on. Well, thank you! That was sweet. THEN, I became a bonafide lifetime member! I dragged my pals out to celebrate with me and get my chip, woops, I mean key chain. And that’s when they told me I had to still weigh in once a month. At that moment, I was pissed. Clearly, I still needed accountability. So, I do it. I love the whole weight watchers program. I’ve been on lots of diets, but this one was different. I liked the points, loved that I did it online, and it was the first time I really took a look at my eating behavior: I eat fast, I can go all day with no food and then binge at night. And I learned early on that if you go to meetings, you have to find the good one which is Wendy! So, if you’re in Omaha, thinking about Weight Watchers, call and ask when Wendy does meetings. She’s real, down to earth, fun,and the only Weight Watchers leader that will give you a pie recipe, then tell you the points _ not just for a slice, but in the event you’re having a really weak moment, the points for the whole pie. It’s as if she speaks directly to me each week.
There’s two things about weight loss that have freaked me out. I’ve only lost 25 pounds, which to me, is a lot, but to my favorite show _ Biggest Loser, 25 pounds is nothing. I acknowledge that. There’s two things that are too big on me now: My rings and my thongs. It just doesn’t seem logistically correct that I’ve lost enough weight for my rings to fall off, especially my wedding ring that I was pretty close to this weight when I got it. But sure enough, they are starting to slide off, at first it was just when I was cooking. But now, when I move.
And to me, I suppose I’ll always think I have thunder thighs and a cottage cheese butt. (You’ll never look at an open container of cottage cheese quite the same will ya?) So, for my butt to be so small that my 10 year old thongs, my favorite undies in the whole wide world, not too sporty, not too slutty, they’re just the right amount of each, are too big. I usually wear these undies with jeans. But this weekend, I had my comfy pants on. You know, the ones Stacey and Clinton would rather burn than give to a charity. I was walking around, and it felt weird…then they dropped. I thought, “What the heck is that in my pants?” Perhaps an extra stray sock from the laundry? Nope. It was my underwear falling OFF my body. At first I was so proud, and then devastated, because they’re my favorite undies. And now I’ll have to go shopping for new ones. And I do NOT try on that garment. So, I have to get it right the first time. The stress. The pressure.
You know what else, it turns out my pants WERE long enough. It’s just my ass and hips were wide enough to pull up my hem line a couple of inches. I was wearing what I THOUGHT was capri work outs the other day. I hadn’t worn them in a while, and when I put them on, they no longer looked like capris, but workout pants that were just a little too short.
I am now lighter than I was on my wedding day. Since having the kids, I’ve lost 119 pounds! And the kids did not weigh 50 pounds each. I am now lighter than I was on our wedding day. So, I’ll exploit this success with a trip to Victoria’s Secret, I suppose! I’m worth it, and my smaller butt is worth it. And really, this is a fixable fun problem. I’m just sayin, it’s funny when your underwear falls off.
Now, how do I make sure my precious, very special, wedding ring doesn’t take a dive into the sink?
That’s how I roll.
I just want to go on the record and say that I hereby cite this information from Wikipedia. I know Wikipedia isn’t the news compass of the world, but I knew to look this up because this story is out of the Public Speaking Textbook from which I lecture four times a year! FOUR TIMES A YEAR, I beg students not to be this guy. And Obama picks him.
“In September 1987, the campaign ran into serious trouble when he plagiarized a speech by Neil Kinnock, then_leader of the British Labour Party.
Kinnock’s speech included the lines:
Why am I the first Kinnock in a thousand generations to be able to get to university? Then pointing to his wife in the audience, he continued: Why is Glenys the first woman in her family in a thousand generations to be able to get to university? Was it because all our predecessors were thick?
While Biden’s speech included the lines:
I started thinking as I was coming over here, why is it that Joe Biden is the first in his family ever to go to a university? Then, pointing to his wife, he continued: Why is it that my wife who is sitting out there in the audience is the first in her family to ever go to college? Is it because our fathers and mothers were not bright? Is it because I’m the first Biden in a thousand generations to get a college and a graduate degree that I was smarter than the rest?
Within days, it was also discovered that, while a first year law student at Syracuse Law School, Biden had plagiarized a law review article in a class paper he wrote. Though the then_dean of the law school, as well as Biden’s former professor, played down the incident of plagiarism, they did find that Biden drew “chunks of heavy legal prose directly from” the article in question. Biden said the act was inadvertent due to his not knowing the proper rules of citation, and Biden was permitted to retake the course after receiving a grade of F, which was subsequently dropped from his record. Biden also released his undergraduate grades, which started off poorly and remained unexceptional. Further, when questioned by a New Hampshire resident about his grades in law school, Biden had inaccurately recollected graduating in the “top half” of his class (when he actually graduated 76th in a class of 85), that he had attended on a full scholarship, and had received three degrees. In fact, he had received two majors, History and Political Science, and a single B.A., as well as a half scholarship based on financial need.
Faced with these revelations, Biden withdrew from the nomination race on September 23, 1987, saying his candidacy had been overrun by “the exaggerated shadow” of his mistakes.”
And end quote from Wikipedia, officially cited correctly in blogger format by Mom On The Rocks herself.
If that’s not enough, he looks like a dirtbag who used too much sunless tanner. He’s ORANGY and his hair is slicked back. What happened to change? We already have an old dirtbag for vp. Obama, why you gotta do this to me? To win Ohio, Pennsylvania and Michigan? But what good is winning those three if you lose all the rest?
I hate to get all political, but as a mom, for the potential future of my kids, I am so dissapointed.
Disappointed. That’s how I roll.
I have been crazy for the Olympics this year. I love the Olympics. Not enough to have ever strived to be IN the Olympics. I don’t have time for that training, it cuts into my watching it. And with our new sweet Hi_Def big ass tv, we are absolutely glued. Plus, more times than I can count something happens, when countries get together and compete, that you have to rewind to make sure, did that really just happen? Like, when the US men’s 4×100 drops the baton, or Phelps winning by a fingernail, or the stupid interviewers, “You’re such a disappointment and disgrace to the country for getting silver, how does that make you feel?” That’s always fun to watch the athelete’s maintain amazing composure.
I wish my Bobby Costas and Mark (woops, I meant Chris) Collingsworth could interview everyone. But no. I will say, it took me a while to figure out why I was enjoying the Today show more than usual. It’s because Kathie Lee isn’t on while they are in Beijing.
Soon, news reports were coming out that the US workers are tired from staying up so late to watch the Olympics. I must say, these Olympics have had an effect on my sleep, as well as my sex life. “Get off me, the games on, you fool!” or, “Baby, we just can’t do this during the National Anthem. It ain’t right.” _has come out more than once. From EACH of us. Sometimes we just need that tender reminder of our marital priorities, I suppose. And the US Mens Swimming Relay team’s abs contracted while yelling and cheering on their teammates _ in hi_def takes priority. Then there’s the slow_mo replay over and over and over again. Whew.
And don’t get all high and mighty on me, because all of the USA women’s sand volleyball games have mysteriously replaced Bindi The Jungle girl on our dvr list. Let’s be honest, Bindi sticking her head in a Kimodo Dragon’s mouth is way less impressive than Keri Walsh blocking and hitting in her itty bitty white bikini. I can respect that for Ricardo.
But, I’m currently drafting a letter to the IOC that the men’s volleyball team’s uniforms be tighter, or topless, for better efficiency and sportsmanship, ofcourse.
This Olympics has motivated me now more than ever. Not to get up and train for something, but to start training my kids. They are almost 6 years old, and in China, that’s practically retirement for an athelete. It’s time for a rigorous schedule. We will do it for the love of the sport, our country, and sweet endorsement. Perhaps theyll be the first twin mixed doubles team in tennis. Or maybe they’ll be divers, swimmers, high jumpers, basketball or volleyball. Either way, we’ve been making them watch the olympics. Their interested, but it’s actually been counterproductive, because they want to be gymnasts. I’ve tried to explain that they are too tall NOW, let alone in 8 years. But they don’t get it.
So, we’ve scheduled their birthday at a gymnastics place _ because this will be the last year they meet the height maximum. After that, I’d hate for them to show up and get kicked out. “We don’t need your six foot 8_year olds here, ma’am.” They’d say. So, I’m just protecting my kids is all.
I’ll be sad to see the Olympics and all those beautiful skilled, sweaty bodies leave my screen. But clearly, it’s for the best that this only happens every four years.
That’s how I roll.
The other day, well, I guess it was a couple of weeks ago, I was doing some chores around the house. For some reason, I had to load the kids up and get in the car. I can’t remember the reason. It wasn’t an emergency, but something just came up like I was weeding and remembered I needed to get coffee creamer, or I was doing laundry and remembered I needed to check our library books in. Regardless, it was something that I wasn’t going to see or be seen, probably the library, where I was just going to drop off the books in the drive through drop off. So I didn’t put on make up, and probably had a hair band in my hair or something.
When I don’t have makeup on, I look like a crack addict _ except I have all of my teeth. Under my eyes are dark, I’m pale everywhere else, have freckles, and usually a couple of blemishes. So, for me to leave the house without make up on is almost a burden to the community. I try not to, but I did it _ knowing that I was going to workout later anyways.
We go run our errand and then I remember as we’re about to drive right by the Sephora store that my moms liked my lip gloss I was wearing. And considering I’d just shlepped my kids off on her for 3 days so that I could visit Carrie a few months ago, lip gloss, was a great woman_to_woman thank you gift. I know what you’re thinking: “YOU sent Seek & Destroy to your MOTHER’S for THREE DAYS and you think LIP GLOSS is thank you enough?” Uh, no I don’t. But this isn’t your average lip gloss. It’s called Buxom, and it’s supposed to plump your lips up. Haven’t you noticed? Lucy likes to call it Mommy’s spicy lip gloss. And it’s yummy. No, I do not eat my lip gloss, but c’mon girls, y’all know you can taste it. It’s on your lips after all. So, we stop in the store to get the stuff.
The kids hate stores like this because they know I’m going to yell “Put that down!” 50 times in the 3 minutes we’re in there. So, I make them put their hands in their pockets. Turns out Max doesn’t have pockets. Super. Lucy helps me find the lip gloss while Max just grabs and touches everything. We get in line, buy just the lip gloss, the lady says something like, “I’ll give you lots of extra samples” and plops them in my bag. I think the extra stuff is grattitude for bringing my kids in and they didn’t break one thing. But that’s not exactly the message she was trying to send…
I get home, ship off the lip gloss, and a few days later, I take a look at the samples she was soooooo gracious with:
- microdelivery exfoliating wash
- 2 packs of blemish buffing beads
- Vitamin C Ester Amine Complex Face lift
I get it, thank you stupid Sephora girl who works all day surrounded by make up samples with your posh black smock on and your 20 year_old_face. Thank you so much. I’m off to go buff my face, I suppose.
That’s how I roll.
I’m watching the Olympics, because it’s what I do…scope out what my kids need to do for 2016. Anyways, Dara Torres, I just like her, 41 and swimming in the olympics while she’s swimming against girls who’s parent’s are in the stands that are the same age as her. And she comes out for her semi_final. It was like a beer commercial _ she goes over to a judge and says something to the judge, sticks her hands in the water, gets her face wet. The commentators are all flustered, “WHAT IS SHE DOING? THAT NEVER HAPPENS, OMG, Bob!”
It turns out, she was telling the judge that some other chick _ gasp_ a competitor _tore her suit, and could they wait til she got a new suit on. Meanwhile, all the other swimmers were getting ready for their swim. They didn’t care if the chick ripped her suit, that’s one less person to swim against.
Once the commentators figured out what she was doing they were just amazed and the WONDERFUL DISPLAY OF SPORTSMANSHIP. Really folks? It wasn’t sportsmanship, it’s called being a mother. Taking care of the babies. And no one knows better that it never hurts to ask _ even if it’s an olympic judge _ no one knows that better than a mom.
You know, now that I think about it, I did the same thing at the pool the other day. There was a lady there about to lose her top, the clip was about to come undone. I just went up and told her she was about to lose it and fixed it for her. Where’s my medal is all I’m sayin. Us moms have to look out for each other.
So, here’s to you, Dara. I bet had Dara Torres seen my gaping hole in my pants, she totally would have told me. She would have come up to me with all those medals clanking, pushing a stroller, and helped a sista out.
That’s how I roll.
I wasn’t back home or even unpacked from my emotionally exhausting whirlwind of travelling when Ricardo suggested we go camping. Apparently I was temporarily possessed by one of my other voices in my head because I said, “That sounds like a great idea, baby!” First of all, I’m not really FOR nature. I mean, it’s alright and all, but there’s bugs and unchlorinated lake water, stuff like that. Secondly, I was going to have to unpack my duffel bag (yes, I still travel with a duffel bag and I’m 34 years old) only to re_pack it.
I like how we plan things: calling to see if any cabins were available _ because I was NOT about to go camping in a tent again since I threw it out after Max barfed in it. We were calling on a Sunday for three days later. So, when they chuckled and told us there were no rooms at the inn, I was pleasantly surprised when some guy tells me there’s no cabins, but there’s an rv, already hooked up, ready to stay in. Had that been my first phone call, I would have said no thank you. Since I’d been turned down so many time, it’ll do was more my philosophy. Sounds good, we don’t have to pull it, the kids will have a loftish type area. It’ll be a new fun experience. And, I’ll get to “rough it” get the whole camping crap out of the way, all while having a bed that’s not on the ground, and having doors to shut. Sign me up.
We went to the Lewis & Clarke Lake. It’s off a dam on the Missouri River, bordering South Dakota and Nebraska. We stayed on the South Dakota side, so that’s one more state to knock off the list of 50 states to take the kids to, just 37 more to go! Hooray!
Since we got there on a Wednesday night, the rv park was full of rv’s, but nobody was there. It turns out, this is a popular lake, so rv owners park their rvs and rent the site all summer. Then they come stay at the lake over the weekend. It’s its own culture is what I’m sayin. The people on the corner have an assembled backyard complete with rod iron hangers for hanging basked plants. Our menial site has the bare essentials: air conditioning, running water, tv, cable, dvd, wifi, a fire pit, gas grill and a picnic table. These people have yard signs and decorations. I don’t decorate this much in my own yard, let alone my summer campground. Do you think they tell others, “We’re going to our summer home.”?
On Thursday, after a day of exploring, we returned to our site to find our neighbors were there. Yay! But we were not greeted with any glee. As I got to looking around, ALL the other rv’s had decor and lovely yards. Ours was not up to neighborhood code I suppose. And I bet when the grumpy well decorated neighbors drove up they said to each other, “OH, the RENTERS are here.” He was watering his 8′ X 5′ patch of grass with a SPRINKLER! To their defense, they did say hello, while we were packing the car to go back home…
You had to garden the stop sign too? How quaint.
So, rv neighborhood culture is certainly a culture I don’t fit in, nor do I want to embrace. It was fun, once. “Roughing it” starts to wear on my after all the chocolate for the smores are gone. It’s nasty, there’s dirt and bugs, even worse is bug spray _ because inevitably, you’re going to get it on your face or taste it. Ew. I start wondering why I ever agreed to come on this stupid trip.
And then Lucy comes in and says, “Let’s go on an exploration, Mom!”
You got it, kid.
This was the first trip we weren’t on some tight schedule. No hurried 15 hour road trip, no other people to accomodate agendas with. We just woke up each morning and let the kids set the pace. Most of the time, they just wanted to ride their bikes on the gravel road so they could skid, seeing who could skid the farthest. We actually only floated on the lake for a few hours. Max and Lucy each got to drive their own go_karts at the fun_plex. Max learned out to skip rocks, and Lucy caught a frog.
Roughing it has never been so fun. Neither was the 50_minute shower I took when I got home.
That’s how I roll.
This is me “helping” Beck out at the beach. Don’t I look so helpful?
Two weeks ago, I took the kids to Virginia Beach to “help” my oldest and dearest friend Beck. And my oldest and dearest, I mean, she’s OLDER than me. heh heh. I’ve known her since pre_school, we were three years old. I use the word “help” in the quotes because really, I have two 5_year_olds.Beck just had her third baby. A little girl. She has a 4_year_old, a 2_year_old, and now a 5 week old. They’re all beautiful and great kids.
When I booked the trip, I thought we’d be helpful. But Summer (me) has ruined my children. School had them all on a schedule with structure…blah, blah, blah. Now, they’re with me, and well, if we remember to bathe and brush our teeth on a daily basis, we’re really on top of things.
But as the time got closer, I was nervous about having them by myself flying across country. With the news reporting each day about how sucky it is to fly and the airlines are charging for your luggage, or for snacks, or to poop. Fine, they aren’t charging to poop _ yet. But I was getting worried that flying with the kids by myself was not going to be so great.
As time got even closer, I was concerned that my kids would teach her kids bad habits. I know Beck, and know her kids are sweet angels. My kids could ruin all of her hard work in a matter of minutes. Max would help her 2 year_old son build a ramp for his tricycle. Lucy has been getting these sudden sneezes, once while kissing gramma goodby. Ew. And once while shoveling a giant mouthful of corndog in her mouth.Gross.
This could get ugly. But the visit was great. For me at least. I haven’t heard from Beck, now that I think of it. We were supposed to come “help” because her husband was off for a few weeks. So, I was supposed to bring the kids to entertain hers, and I would help with the baby and chores around the house. Problem is, I don’t do diapers and i don’t breastfeed. And now that I think of it, she cooked dinner every night.
I think I might have herded the children around for her to get a shower one time. And then, maybe she got in a nap or two. But really, my crew of carnies, we’re not so much help as we are sheer entertainment. Watching our kids play together was just a delight for me. I don’t think I could ever handle having more than what I’ve got for kids. But, that little crew was hillarious.
So, Beck, hope you had as much fun as we did. I wonder why you haven’t called me lately. Is it because I did my laundry, but left yours for you to do later? Let me know next time you need me to come “help”.
I think it’s like if someone were trying to set me up on a date and the guy said, “Is she hot?” My pal would say, “Well, uh, she’s got a GREAT personality!” Same thing with being helpful, “Is she helpful?” Beck would probably say, “Well, she’s got a GREAT personality!”
That’s how I roll.
I’ve been waiting for the perfect way to put this into words. But I’ve given up on the whole perfection gig. It’s totally overrated anyways. No words can ever describe what I’ve been through in the last few months anyway. My friend, Carrie, passed away on Sunday. She died peacefully surrounded by her family. Her funeral was beautiful, just like her. Carrie had brain cancer and up until just a few short months ago, we thought she was beating it. Then the bottom fell out of our world. Calls. Emails. Hope. Panic.
Yallison and I did get to see her before she passed away. We couldn’t seem to get there soon enough. I wrote this the morning we were going to see Carrie a few weeks ago, I think it sums it all up. This was read at her funeral:
There are big days in each of our lives. You wake up, say, “Today I’m graduating.” or “Today I’m getting married!” or “Today I’m having a baby.” I never thought this day would be such an awe_inspiring moment when indeed, “Today, I get to see Carrie. I get to hug my friend. Tell her I love her.” I’ve been waiting for what seems so long to get here and see her and show her we love her so much.
It was ofcourse very bitter sweet. We’d been planning our annual girls trip, and just took it to her instead.
She didn’t make a lot of eye contact, kind of stared off, and has very little facial expression. That was hard to get used to, I thought she was upset with me at first. I told her I was thinking of getting a tattoo, and her whole face just lit up. And she looked right into my eyes. She loves tattoos, had about 7 I think. I told her I was thinking of getting “Flygirl” (her nickname) on my back, so I can say Flygirl always has my back. She squeezed my hand and struggled to whisper, “ABSOLUTELY”. So, now I have to get a tattoo. A promise is a promise.
Some people imagine getting old with their spouse. I do too. But with each girlfriend’s trip, I always thought we’d grow old together, swinging on a porch swing together. Now Yallison is stuck with me.
When I left, and had to head back home, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. As Carrie laid in that bed, I get to drive my car, hug my kids and my mom. I get to listen to music, to pet my dog, to smile at perfect strangers, yell at traffic.The simplest things are now privileges to me. I get to kiss my husband, or tell people I love them with ease. Every moment seems brighter now, every pleasant breath a gift. The very family I roll my eyes at with their quirks and misgivings, I hug a little tighter.
Ultimately, what I’ve learned from this is how truly loved Carrie was, but also, how loved I am. And the people who love us simply understood the sisterhood Yallison and I had with Carrie. They rallied up, to help us get to her when it really counted. Thank y’all for loving me, for loving Yallison, and for loving my Flygirl.
I’ve also inherited some amazing friends. They’re stuck with me too. They’ll go get that tattoo with me now, I suppose.
Carrie had a wicked sense of humor. So, when they told me they’d researched brain cancer, and the survivor ribbon color for brain cancer was grey, I almost fell over laughing. I held it in. But really. “It’s grey matter” “It’s all grey to me” _ that’s hillarious and perfect. So, we’ll wear the grey ribbon for Carrie. Because now, it seems, Grey DOES matter.
There are days that it seems like she left us so quickly. The kids and I saw her in March. In May we started getting calls. Talked to her in June, she seemed okay. Too fast. And then days it seems like it lingered. At the end of her life, I’d get calls and updates, and would just pray God would have mercy on her body. So, when I got the call that she’d passed away. I immediately felt relief for her. Then guilt for feeling the relief. The emotions are heartwrenching. Devastating.
I am so sad but have to grin a bit because I know she’s up in heaven groovin to some tunes and throwing back some brews in the company of other great people. Just like her. I keep listening to Coldplay. Over and over again. No one understands that like Carrie did. We’d listen to one song all day. It’s between In My Place and Strawberry Swing. Here’s some of the lyrics to Strawberry Swing. She’d appreciate it.
They were sitting
They were sitting on the
Every moment was so precious
They were sitting
They were talking under
Everybody was for fighting
Wouldn’t wanna waste a thing
Cold, cold water bring me round
Now my feet won’t touch the ground
Cold, cold water what ya say?
When it’s such…
It’s such a perfect day
It’s such a perfect day
We were walking up to
I can’t wait until the morning
Wouldn’t wanna change a thing
People moving all the time
Inside a perfectly straight line
Don’t you wanna curve away?
When it’s such…
It’s such a perfect day
It’s such a perfect day
Now the sky could be blue
I don’t mind
Without you it’s a waste of time
Could be blue
I don’t mind
Without you it’s a waste of time
Could be blue,
could be grey
without you I’m just miles away
That’s how I roll.