SkinnyPoodles

I've had dreams of grandeur that I'd one day wake up and be skinny.  Yes, I'm always this unrealistically optimistic.   It is one of the greatest things about me.  (Well I think so anyway.)

Last week I decided that maybe there was a little more work required to this skinny thing.  I shopped around for a free calorie counting website.  A friend of mine suggested www.livestrong.com, using the MyPlate application.  I instantly fell in love and made it my home page.  (I need alarms and reminders for everything, so when I open my browser this is a great way to shock the bag of pretzels out of my hand.)

I have to say that calorie counting is much easier and also much more difficult than I'd expected.  Some foods shock me with their low cal counts.  Fresh veggies are like eating nothing and fill you up pretty well.  Others, OMG WTF was I thinking putting that into my mouth!   I haven't yet taken (nor do I plan on) a trip to any fast food venues since I started calorie counting.  I don't think I want to know just how awful that quarter pounder with cheese and extra pickles is.

I'm happy to report that I'm one week into this new, healthier, skinnier lifestyle and I'm about eight pounds lighter.  I was most impressed when my favorite pair of capris (that were skin tight all summer long, resulting in my wearing them much less than I'd prefer) are now baggy.  YAY!  Unfortunately it's getting much to chilly for my legs to be out, so the adorable pink and gray camo capris will have to be retired, perhaps for good.  What a good excuse to go clothes shopping in the summer for new camo pants!

My darling husband has gotten in on the cal counting action as well.  Even though he is a few days behind me we have already begun to see the results in baggier pants.  He made dinner tonight and it was nice to work together to figure out portion sizes and cal counts.  He packed up the leftovers in single portions for my lunches.  How sweet. :)

I'm excited to be on the road to one day waking up skinny.  I'm sad it isn't happening overnight, but I'm now up for the much more realistic challenge.  I've got my partner in crime on the journey with me and that makes it an easier and more triumphant ride.

Pee Pee on the Potty

A few months ago I started potty training Kyrie.  She did really well for awhile.  She could keep a pull up dry all day long.  She wouldn't tell me if she had to go, but if I put her on she went.  I was putting her on the potty every half hour or so.  It went well for about a week or so and then she got annoyed and bored with this half hour potty routine.  She refused to go on the potty at all.  I figured she just wasn't ready and so I gave up for a little while. 

Since then she's turned 2 and started talking more.  Granted she's not a dazzling conversationalist yet, but she's got a budding vocabulary.  I hope that she's old enough now to put together the words and the sensation "Pee pee on the potty."  Today we broke out the big girl panties.  I've got lofty goals of having her potty trained RIGHT NOW! (or this week.)  I keep hearing stories about how easy little girls are to train.  "Oh I had my daughter potty trained in a weekend!"  While I'm slightly more realistic, deep know I know it might not (probably won't) happen in a week, damn it I'm still going to try!

Ah so this is the terrible twos they talked about...

It's come to my attention that the "terrible twos" are really only for girls.  Or at least that's been my experience.  When the boys were two, they were wild, they got into everything and destroyed a lot of stuff.  Really it isn't much different now that they're 5 & 7, they just talk more now.  Of course they had the occasional temper tantrum and Matthew was the master of screaming and angry fits of rage, (again, not much has changed) but for the most part they were very manageable two year olds.  The real terror began when they were three.  They knew their boundaries, knew what was wrong, weighed their options, and did the bad stuff anyway.

Since then we've been blessed with a beautiful little girl.  She just turned 2 on August 18th.  She is sweet and adorable, that is, until she doesn't get what she wants.  She doesn't talk a lot because her three older brothers talk for her.  She does have a few very clear words though, like stop, let go, move, and SHOES!  (Yes, totally my shoe obsessed child.  She wears at least 6 pairs a day, most of which do not belong to her.)  When she wants something, she takes it, and when you make her give it back she screams.  When she comes into the kitchen because she wants something, if you do not give it to her immediately she goes into a tiny impatient rage.  Yes she's even to the "throw yourself on the floor and scream til you can hardly breathe" stage, complete with kicking.  She is full of attitude and drama and she's only been 2 for a few weeks.  Despite this outrageous behavior she is still sweet and adorable, and she knows it too.  She's already mastered exploiting the cuteness.  She endlessly bats her eyelashes and even breaks out the pouty lip when necessary.  She and Conrad have the most adorable pouty lips ever.  Yes, I'm totally a sucker.  Ask me about it again in 10 years, I hope to be immune by then.

And so you see, NOW I know what they were talking about when they said "terrible twos."

*UPDATE*  It seems I've forgotten a few words she's mastered.  She just brought me a Spiderman Pez, stuffed it in my face and yelled "MINE."  I'm pretty sure she wanted me to open it so she could eat the candy.  I told her it doesn't belong to her and instead of flipping out, she contemplated this for a second and asked, "Why?"

Kneed some relief

It's almost 1:30 in the morning and I'm up because my knees hurt so bad I wanna cry.  I got up to take one of my arthritis pills and of course I've gotta stay up for a bit and eat something or else my stomach will be a mess.  Nights like tonight I feel like such an old lady.

My knee story starts around two years ago.  After Kyrie was born I was still having a lot of pain in my right knee.  I figured once the preggo thing was over that it would just go away on it's own, but unfortunately it didn't.  When it got to the point that I was afraid to climb the stairs while holding my newborn daughter I decided it was time to go to the doctor.  They did x-rays and pumped me full of cortisone to start.  The first shot worked great for about a month and then the pain came back.  I had a reaction to the second shot.  My knee swelled up and I was in unbearable pain.  After that I scheduled surgery. They didn't know if they'd find anything they could fix because nothing showed up on x-ray or MRI but I was willing to give it a shot, anything to make the pain stop.  Last April my surgeon performed arthroscopic knee surgery, repaired a small meniscus tear, and scraped way more arthritis than any (then) 27 year old should have.  After the recovery (which by the way is WAY longer than they prepare you for) I had a fantastic pain free summer.  When fall rolled around though it was back to the same old routine.  I went back much earlier this time though to avoid the severe pain I'd experienced before.  My surgeon decided I needed a new round of shots called hyluronic acid.  I'm sure I spelled that wrong, but what it boils down to is some cushioney pain relieving gel made from rooster combs.  The treatment consisted of three shots spaced one week apart.  It is supposed to be a wonder drug that they shoot up all the athletes with.  Again it worked great and I was pain free for most of the winter.  Spring rolls around (notice a change in season patterns here?) and I'm back at the orthopedic surgeon, in pain again.  It hasn't been long enough to have another round of rooster shots so he prescribed me an NSAID (non steroid anti inflammatory drug.)  Hello wonder drug I love you!  After just 3 days of taking it I was pain free again and having a great summer.  Summer however is coming to a close and here I am, having a light snack at 1:30am so I can take my drugs and hope to get some sleep soon because my knees (yes both, now the left one hurts as well) hurt so darn bad.  I'll be calling my surgeon in the morning to have him reevaluate the right knee and decide a course of action for the left.  I can't believe I'm even considering it but I may ask for a script for another round of physical therapy.  I know eventually this will all lead back to surgery and at least one knee replacement by the time that I'm 40.  (Why did I have to be so good at playing catcher in softball?  It was fun but my knees hate me now.)  I'm still working on coming to terms with that but ya gotta do what you gotta do I suppose.  If it means I'll be able to keep up with the kids, bring on the chop chop.

Things That Make Me Happy :D :D :D :D

As promised here's an entry about things that make me happy.

Puppies, kittens, bunnies, pretty much anything small, baby, cute and cuddly, yup, those things make me happy.  Who doesn't wove cuddling with wittle warm fuzzies!   Yup, I'm such a girl, get over it.

The hubs, kids, and I have a camp just off Pymatuning Lake.  I love going there, spring through fall, to hang out with them and forget about life for awhile.  We have campfires, roasted hot dogs, loud music, swings, and burnt marshmallows.  It's a beautiful escape and it makes me happy.

Reading great blogs makes me happy.  I enjoy hearing about others tales of triumph and woes, especially if they're written in a great format.  Here are 2 of my favorites.
http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/
Ali Brosh and her incredible paint animations always crack me up.
http://www.epbot.com/
Jen from Cake Wrecks writes about her life.  She's awesome.
Go check them out!

I found out recently that my husband actually reads my blog, and that makes me happy.  He hadn't said anything about it previously, but after reading the Things That Piss Me Off post he had to tell me that it was pompous.  I agreed with him.  I'm just happy that he reads what I write.

The five minutes before they kids get into trouble and they're laughing and squealing joyously makes me happy.  I know that something bad is going to follow, but living in that giggly moment is awesome.

Having the kind of friend you can call at 2am for something important or no good reason at all makes me happy.  I've been without really good friends for a long time.  Being a stay at home mom means that I don't get out a lot and don't meet a lot of new people.  I've been fortunate enough to recently make a great new friend by accident really.  We both have small children and a lot of other things in common and I'm not sure how I got along for so long without someone like her.

Finding my inner girl has made me happy.  I never thought I'd be so thrilled to strut about in ruffly sundresses and kick ass heels.  I liked these things as a kid but outgrew them during that 90's grunge stage.  My girly is back with a passion now, from my long curly hair to my pink painted toe nails. 

I'm sure there are plenty of other things too, but this is it for now.  I plan on making another list by the end of summer.  Maybe without the pompous pissed off things before it. :D

Things That Piss Me Off (an angry rant)

I hate being late for things.   I cringe at the thought of making up a story for the host so that we can have an excuse for our tardiness.  Everyone knows I'm a terrible liar.  What I hate more than being late is people who are supposed to meet me and are late.  Please, call me, tell me your crazy why I was late lies and lets get on about our days.  I can't stand to sit and stew and wait for you.  Lateness pisses me off.


When we are sitting in a crowded restaurant and I can hear your lips smacking, your food crunching, and mad soup slurping sounds from across the table, we have a problem.  Even more than that, if you try and talk to me with food spewing forth from your mouth, I will stop you.  I will ask you to finish your mouthful, and then speak to me.  When your mouth is so full that corn is dribbling down your face while you try and babble, we have a problem.  When we are at a fancy wedding or other upscale venue and you finish your food and drink and then proceed to belch loudly and giggle like children, you are offensive.  I will be embarrassed to be seated with you.  Cover your mouth and behave civilly.   If you can not behave with proper table manners when in public, we have a problem.  Eating noises, talking with your mouth full, and poor table manners piss me off.


If you do not get along with other adults, that is fine.  We can't possibly all like each other.  When you take this dislike out in a public forum it is in bad taste.  I do not want to read it (ok maybe I do, I love the gossip.)  I do not want to be stuck in the middle of it.  Can't you see the damage that you're doing to yourself and the people around you?  Childish adults piss me off.


We've all at some point opened up the refrigerator and been taken aback by the foul stench emanating from within.  No matter how many times you've searched and searched you still can't find the stinky offender.  Only days later do you realize it's that bag of mushy goo stuffed in the back corner.  What on earth was that?  How did it get back there?  Why does it smell so bad?  Rotten things in the back of the fridge piss me off.

I'll be updating and adding more things that piss me off as I think about them.  Tomorrow instead of being pissed off, I'm going to start a "things that make me happy" blog.

Karma said "BEND OVER!"

Today started out as normal as any other day.  I got up and got Robert ready for his second to last day of school, fed him breakfast and headed out the door to the bus.  It wasn't raining but it was foggy and wet so I had him put his rain coat on.  We made it most of the way to the bus stop when it started sprinkling.  Ok, sprinkling, no big deal, I can get a little wet, I won't melt.  We get to the bus stop and the other kids and parents all get there, all with umbrellas of course and it starts POURING!!!!  Fortunately Robert stayed dry in his rain coat while we huddled under the umbrellas.  Thank goodness someone was more prepared than me!  After the bus came the rain had let up some and I walked home soaking wet in the drizzle.

When I got home I got changed into dry clothes and shoes and got everyone ready to go to breakfast and grocery shopping.  Breakfast went well.  The kids ate everything and the baby was only slightly crabby.  Grocery shopping went well too.  The boys went to the free babysitting service and had a great time, and Kyrie was pleasant for the entire trip.  We checked out and didn't have any coupon issues.  (I saved $128.50 WAHOO!!!)  Bob went out ahead of me to take Kyrie and 2 of the 3 carts to the van and I took a cart and went to pick up the boys.  The boys were well behaved and I didn't even need to stop back for any bathroom visits during the entire shopping trip.  (That never happens!)

After picking up the boys is when the day took a big turn for the worse.  The boys each put a hand on the side of my cart and we proceeded to walk out of the front of the store.  We got no further than the office because there was a man on the floor having a seizure.  Bob (being an EMT) had stopped to help him until the ambulance arrived.  There was a store employee with Kyrie and our 2 carts.  She helped me and the kids out to the van with the carts while Bob stayed inside to help.  I loaded the boys and the baby into the van and was beginning to put the groceries away when an old man with a cane came walking by.  He smiled at me and so I smiled back.
Then he asked me "Are you pregnant?"  (Referring to the parking spot for pregnant woman and parents of new children.)  Still smiling I told him no, I am not but I do have small children, and pointed to the sign.
He stopped and read it, and asked, "well how new a parent are you?"
"Do you really want to get into this with me?"  I asked.  The smiling had stopped and scowling began.
"Well how old are your kids?" he wanted to know
"This is not funny." I told him.
"Well I want to know."  he told me.
"NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" I growled.  He stopped talking then and went to his car that was parked next to mine.  I imagine he was upset because he couldn't use it as his pseudo handicapped parking spot.  He's a very lucky man that he did not come close to our touch my van in order to see the children and assess  their ages.  Mother bear syndrome would have kicked in because he's way too close to my cubs.  He'd find it a little difficult to walk with that cane up his behind.

After watching the old man get into his car and drive off.  (Standing, looking angry and aggressive with my hands on my hips.)  I proceeded to put away the rest of the groceries and sit to wait for Bob.  Did I mention that the boys forgot their coats inside and were flipping out?  They carried on like mad until we were able to get them for them.  Anyway, the ambulance arrived while I was packing up and the boys were so excited to see it, especially since it was the one from right next door to our house.  Soon the seizure man was all packed up, Bob got the coats, and was in the van so I could share my old man story with him and hear about the sick man.  Or the man who I thought was sick anyway.  As it turns out seizure guy was a shop lifter.  When the store security guy stopped him, or rather grabbed him and put him on the ground, shoplifter guy started to have a "seizure."  Yup that's right, Bob stopped to help a big faker!

Hey karma, what on earth have I done to deserve today?  I hope you can  make up for it this evening!

Green Thumb

It is my personal opinion that green thumbs are hereditary and that they also seem to skip a generation.  (Very much like having twins.)  My paternal grandfather Harry was a fantastic gardener.  He always had a huge vegetable garden filled with tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, carrots, horseradish, and tons of other things I can't even recall.  He had grape vines and some of the most beautiful flowers.  My maternal grandmother Doris was a bit of a gardener as well.  She never had the elaborate veggie garden but always had beautiful potted plants.  She grew flowers from seeds.  She nurtured those plants like they were her babies.

My parents dabbled in gardening when my sister and I were little.  I think we grew corn once, potatoes, and always the random tomato plant.  For a long while my mom had the most gorgeous gladiolas.  As we got older the flowers and veggies were less and less.  Mom has started gardening a little bit more recently.  I convinced her to plant some of my extra green bean seedlings and she still comes up with a random tomato plant.  Her flowers are nice too but if things need any more maintenance than watering she isn't going to grow it.

I would like to thank my grandparents, Harry and Doris, for my green thumb.  I'm lucky when it comes to plants.  They just like to grow for me.  There is something magical about sticking a seed in the ground, watching it, watering it, and loving it while it provides you with something delicious to eat.  In my veggie garden I grow a lot of normal things, tomatoes, peppers, cukes, zucchini, and green beans.  Every year I try and branch out and do something out of the ordinary as well.  This year I'm trying out brussel sprouts.  I've also turned last years dud melon patch into a pumpkin patch.  Of course I couldn't go with normal pumpkins.  We are going to have pretty reddish orange giant pumpkins.  I have raspberries planted on the side of the house.  Only three out of nine made it to their second year.  The ones that came back are growing rapidly and look like I may get a pint or two of berries.

My flowers out front this year include white and red pinwheel petunias, yellow, orange, and red gerbera daises, purple and yellow pansies, and marigolds.  I think the marigolds will be yellow and orange.  I started them from seeds so you never really know for sure til they bloom.  My  yellow and red rhododendron are all bloomed out.  They were beautiful.  My lilac is currently in bloom and I'm waiting to see if the pink hydrangeas I planted will stay pink.  We've got a lot of pine trees so the soil might be acidic enough to turn them blue.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they do not.  The bleeding heart put on a beautiful show this spring as well.

I'm anxious for summer.  I can't wait for my little plants to start flowering and for those flowers to turn into tasty treats.  I look forward to the therapeutic calm that comes from playing in the dirt as well as the excitement the children and I will share while we're picking big red tomatoes.

Avon: I don't do it for the money.

Exactly one year ago I got an e-mail from an old friend of mine asking me if I'd like to sell Avon.  I thought about it a little while, talked to my husband a bit, and after a little research I set up a meeting with her and my new manager to get started.  It was really easy.  After $10 and one hour, I had all my supplies and owned my own business.  I dove in head first distributing books to my friends, family, and neighbors and had over $200 in sales my very first campaign.  I started attending the local meetings and making new friends. 

I've always been bad at approaching new people.  When I meet someone new small talk has never come easily.  Avon has taught me to put myself out there more.  Talking to new, random people still is a challenge for me but I feel like once I get a conversation started I'm much more at ease.  I would stumble before suggesting Avon to new people, and now I find that I'm handing out brochures in obscure places like shoe stores.

I also love my job with Avon for the products.  I've gotten a wide array of skin care and make up products now that I never would have gotten for myself otherwise.  I'm getting more experimental too.  I never would have dreamed of wearing eye liner any color besides black or eye shadow outside of the natural brown selections.  Never ever would I have been a red lipstick gal.  Now I wear my red lipstick, purple eye liner, and pink eye shadow (not all together mind you) with pride!

Avon has boosted my confidence, my self esteem, and my ability to meet new people.  The added income is nice, but I love my job for all of the perks that have come along with it.  I look forward to building a team of women to work with me so that I can give these great gifts to them too.  I hope to have many more years as an Avon lady!

If you're interested in joining me, drop me an email Jcook1207@verizon.net or if you'd like to check out the products go to my web store.
www.youravon.com/jcook1207

I ate it.

When I was in high school I was a cute little band geek with cute little band geek friends.  We played our instruments and sang all the fight songs and made fun of the jocks and cheerleaders.  We also spent a lot of time on buses traveling to football games and band shows.  As every one knows large amounts of down time is bad for teenagers.  While select band members slunk away to make out in a corner, my friends and I found new and exciting was to get on people's nerves.  My friend Michelle and I sang Brak songs long and loud enough to make your ears bleed.  Renee and I had hand made sock monkey puppets that we used to joyously announced "Sock MON-KAY!" like Harry from 3rd Rock from the Sun.  (I still have Alihandro.)  Beans coined the phrase "your mom!" for anything and everything.  Which brings me to the all time, irritate the hell out of your parents phrase, "I ate it."  I'm not sure exactly who was responsible for that one but I adopted it and used it copiously.

"I ate it."  Drove my parents crazy.
"Jenn, where is the vaccume?"
"I ate it."
"Jenn, where is the remote?"
"I ate it."
"Jenn, where is your homework and why aren't you doing it?"
Yup, you guessed it, "I ate it."
It's said rather lackluster, completely bereft of enthusiasm.   This phrase drove my father to the breaking point.  Every time I uttered the words "I ate it." (unless referring to food that I was specifically asked about.) I was to run the sweeper.   Needless to say we had the cleanest carpets around for about two months til I could break the "I ate it." habit. 

My children are young and haven't picked up quite the same caliber of obnoxious habits (yet anyway.)  But today I asked Conrad where something was and got a hearty laugh when his adorable little face looked up at me and said, "I eated it."   Yes Mom and Dad, I have children just like me.  Thanks for that curse.

While you're here, go check out one of my favorite Brak songs.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yt0YnVrfzGM

Patience

Robert stayed home from school today.  Most of the day he's been relaxing on the couch, watching tv, and leaving the rest of the munchkin population alone.  I don't like it when the kids are sick, but I love it when they sit around and do nothing.  The twins are not sick today.  The twins are full of fire and mischief today.  Between digging in the unpacked kitchen  boxes for possible weapons, beating the snot out of each other, and screaming louder than banshees they're driving me crazy!  I can deal with the make-shift weapons, I can deal with the wrestling matches on the floor (hell, I'll even ring the bell *ding**ding*) I can NOT however deal with the screaming.  Even more than Matthew standing next me whining Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, MoMmY, MOMMY, MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, the screaming gets to me.  It's like a white hot poker straight in my brain.  I've been running a little thin on patience anyway dealing with the general mayhem created by caring for 4 young kids.  Today my patience is SHOT!  I swear, one more scream and I'm going off the deep end.

Mommy needs a time out!

Calling on Jiminy Cricket

When it comes to snarky comments, sarcasm, and general antagonistic acts I'm a pro.  I'm quick to point out the short comings of others for a good laugh.  I poke mercilessly to get reactions out of people.  I will do anything to be the funny one.

These are some huge things I'm having issues with.  In my "be a better me" quest, I've begun to think about the things that I say and how they really effect others.  Not just the laughs, but the pain behind them.  I want to be able to stop this.  Before every snarky comment I make, I now think before I say it.  It's difficult though because I really feel like I have that little cartoon angel and devil perched on my shoulders.  The devil is telling me, "yeah it's funny, go for it!"  While the angel reminds me, "you know this isn't helping your quest any."  It's hard to be nice!  It's much easier to say the things you know people will get a chuckle out of, even if it pisses someone off.  Even though I've been thinking about the things I say before I say them, I still say them.  That little devil still wins out.  From now on, I'm calling on Jiminy Cricket.  He comes alone and reminds me to always let my conscience be my guide.

and so it begins....

I've been a very unhappy person for a very long time.  Honestly, I'm sick and tired of it.  This life has provided me with infinite blessings and I need to take a step back and enjoy them.  I am starting today.  First, gone are the bad attitudes, looking for the negatives, and cynical approaches.  I am going to start setting positive goals for myself instead of just muddling through life day to day.  I am going to live each day, not just make it through.

Not only do I need to improve things for myself, I need to improve them for others as well.  I want to be the kind of friend that I would like to have.  Instead of picking people apart for all of their shortcomings, I would like to be able to appreciate all that is good in them.  I want to be a better mom, wife, daughter, sister, niece, cousin, and friend.  I want to let all of the people in my life know just how important they are to me.

My short term goal is to put away the kitchen.  All of my cabinets are finally in place.  They are beautiful and I am going to fill them with the contents of the boxes that have been littering the kids playroom.

Each new adventure must have a place to start.  Here is mine.