Born lazy

I often refer to myself as lazy because I am not terribly physically active. I sit at a desk all day long, and I’ve never been good at sports, and my idea of relaxing is… moving from the desk to the couch. I live on the edge, obviously.

Part of me bristles against this, because, obviously, I am not lazy in the overarching sense of the word. I mean, I’m as lazy as you can be while working 50-60 hours/week and cooking, cleaning, and otherwise tending to a family, I guess.

Still, my inability to develop a love for exercise aggravates me. Hence today’s post over at Five Full Plates, about me and my excuses. I’m curious to know if you think a love of fitness can be cultivated, because so far I’ve got nothin’.

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Comments { 21 }

Let me count the ways of love

There are times when I think that if the phrase “attitude of gratitude” was a person, I would be tempted to punch it square in the nose of its smug, righteous little face. It just sounds… smarmy. Holier-than-thou-ungrateful-and-possibly-unwashed-self. Fake and pious. That aspect of it I can do without.

On the other hand, there’s something about that phrase that I love. It’s short and simple and to the point. It’s a great reminder to myself even as I’m grappling with raising complicated no-longer-so-small people who can sometimes bear a striking resemblance to Veruca Salt. So, yes, it can sound a little trite, but the idea behind it rings true to me.

It’s about acknowledging the good and being appreciative as a default position. I can’t find anything wrong with that, rhyming words aside. I liked doing a quick inventory so much, the last time I did it, I’m going to do it again today. (more…)

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Comments { 15 }

Happy birthday to her, she’s covered in fur

The remainder of my birthday yesterday was very nice; in the true party spirit, I took some Nyquil and fell asleep on the couch before 9:00. Wooooo! Do I know how to live on the edge or WHAT? Too bad Otto felt the need to give me his cold as a pre-birthday gift. (But guilt is a handy thing, because to make it up to me he gave me a spa certificate for my actual birthday. As soon as I stop leaking snot everywhere, it’s massage time, baybee.)

You’d think that today everything would be back to normal, but NO, because today is Licorice’s birthday! Well, sort of. The truth is that no one knows when her birthday is, of course, because rescue dogs rarely get picked up with a little note pinned to their fur. (“Please take good care of my baby. Her name is Foofybottom and her birthday is on ________. She enjoys rodent entrails and long walks on the beach.”) But the rescue that nursed Licorice back to health assigned her birthday as August 18th, and their vet estimated her age at three, so although it may not ACTUALLY be her 4th birthday today, we’re acting like it is.

You know, for the kids. Stop looking at me like that. (more…)

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Comments { 28 }

It says so, right here

There are crumbs on the table and dust bunnies on the floor and there’s something sticky on the back corner of that one shelf in the fridge that I’m afraid to investigate.

I’m tired and I’m getting a cold and my desk is a mess and the laundry’s piling up and it’s rainy and disgusting outside.

I am profoundly grateful for all of it. This life, my life, is sweeter and more blessed than I deserve. Every year I dread my birthday—vestiges of ghosts long since past—and every year it arrives and I look around and realize, “Life is good and I am lucky.”

Because it is, and I am. Even if this IS the last birthday I’m planning to have. Ahem. (39 is the new black, or something, right? Right.)

And if for some reason I didn’t realize my good fortune, magical forces are hard at work to remind me. (more…)

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Comments { 83 }

He really deserves a medal

I know I’ve told you before about how really, the biggest adjustment for me in moving south was the seriousness of the bugs around here. The insects in Georgia are just not screwing around, man, they are here to REPRESENT. As such, having a Bug Guy is—to my mind, anyway, and those of any sane people with whom I’ve spoken—just not optional ’round here. Having a maid is optional. Having curbside trash pick-up is optional (if you don’t mind driving to the dump). Having a company that will keep creepy germ-encrusted twitchy exoskeletons filled with SQUICK out of your house is NOT OPTIONAL.

Bug Guys typically come and treat the house once a quarter. Then, if you have some sort of problem, they’ll come back and retreat as many time as is necessary, but once a quarter pretty well keeps things under control. EXCEPT. I learned early on that the week after the Bug Guy comes, it’s inevitable that a few bug sightings are going to happen—the poison drives ‘em out of the crevices and sometimes IN rather than OUT.

But that doesn’t make it any less disgusting. (more…)

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Comments { 40 }

Just wondering

In general, I believe in parenting with a firm but benevolent hand. I believe in choosing your battles, allowing them room to make their own mistakes, and a lot of prayer. I believe you can’t take it personally, but you can’t just give up, either. I believe it’s our job to mold these kids into human beings who will benefit society, and that said molding can be messy, thankless work a lot of the time, but that the benefits in the end far, far outweigh the drawbacks.

That said, if I had to club my daughter to within an inch of her life with, say, this, y’all would totally understand, right? You’d still like me?

Because I am telling you this: There is not a jury in the world that would convict me.

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Comments { 26 }

Well, three days were good

The first three days of school were better than I’d dared to hope, and when I walked Monkey over to school yesterday, I decided to stop in and chat with his teacher for a minute. She confirmed that all was well and that she was pleasantly surprised at how problem-free it had been, so far.

“Oh, just WAIT,” I laughed. “We’re still in the honeymoon period! Don’t be lulled into a false sense of security!” And we chuckled together and talked about school supplies and then I walked back home with a spring in my step, no idea exactly how prophetic I’d just been.

It’s probably better that way, but still. The afternoon didn’t so much surprise me as it LEAPT AT MY THROAT and left me bleeding out on the floor. Oops! (more…)

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Comments { 21 }

I’ve never felt this way before

I’m starting to worry, a little bit, that maybe I’ve gotten myself into an unhealthy relationship. And I’m just as surprised as you are, because I am—by all accounts, if I do say so, myself—a strong and independent woman with a clear sense of right and wrong and personal boundaries. If anything, I’m usually TOO quick to dismiss someone for having transgressed in a way that is (to me) insurmountable.

And that’s why I find myself really puzzled by my current situation. I mean, love is a beautiful thing. When you love someone, and they love you back, you’re supposed to be good to each other, right? That’s what it’s all about? I do for you, you do for me, together we are happier, stronger, our best selves, etc.?

You all know I’ve already been through one extremely painful divorce. I just don’t think I can go through something like that again. Maybe that’s why I keep trying to work it out. I keep telling myself that it’s okay; it’ll get better; I’m just misunderstanding and really, no harm was meant. (more…)

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Comments { 57 }

Her and me and we

It’s a funny thing, having a daughter, when your relationship with your own mother is kind of complicated. I never doubted my ability to care for a child; I had years of babysitting and even nannying under my belt by the time Chickadee came along. But I doubted my ability to be a good mother to a girl. Because girls are complicated and touchy and easily wounded. I know this because I am complicated and touchy and easily wounded, and even now I can remember with cutting clarity certain events and statements not meant to cause harm, of course, but that nevertheless sliced jagged tracks through my self-esteem.

You might think it’d be easy to be All Things Awesome and avoid any mistakes in this realm, and if you think that, I’m guessing you don’t have kids. Too often I open my mouth and something comes out that makes me cringe. There are things I understand all too well, which she is sure I do not. There are things that baffle me where she is impatient with my confusion. And the daily push-pull of one foot in childhood and one in adulthood is making us both dizzy.

It’s funny the way things happen all at once. (more…)

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Comments { 28 }

Save the drama for your mama

So. Um. Hi! It appears that I didn’t really think through yesterday’s post. I mean, I thought, “This is an important miscarriage of justice that needs to be brought to light, and I have the luxury of readers and so I will ask them to read about it,” when really I should’ve been thinking, “People who are strangers to me will read about this story and then go onto various bulletin boards and claim that I have posted this story to boost my t-shirt sales.” Yes, they’re on to me, folks. I shared that story because I want your money! BUY A SHIRT, DAMMIT!

Ahem.

Look; I very rarely use this space for any sort of activism. When I do, it’s something that’s important to me. If it’s not important to you, that’s okay. Just move on. No need to get your panties in a wad. [Though, for anyone who has questions about yesterday's post: A bunch of details have been added in the comments by both Hollis (the author) and Kimberly (Hollis' sister, the defense attorney), including the docket number. Please stop with the "this story can't be real."]

So, let’s get back to the sort of controversial, cutting-edge storytelling for which I am best known, shall we? (more…)

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Comments { 36 }
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