Nanny 911


Wow, I just noticed it’s been a week since I posted anything. I wish I had some either awesome or shocking excuse for why I haven’t written…like aliens landed in my backyard and gave me my own Rosie (from the Jetsons) or wild horses stampeded through my backyard (which would also be an awesome excuse to explain why our yard looks the way it does…I wonder how much stampeding horses cost?) or even the normal parenting joys of projectile vomit, tantrums, or the ever present poop. But alas even the most mundane of excuses escape me. I just have been preoccupied with other areas in my life and forgot to blog. But I now know my calorie consumption for the week, have reached level 50 in Candy Crush, actually made a homemade meal that included vegetables, read countless stories to my kids, even played a few rounds of Candyland with my kids, and have discovered a new show on Netflix…Nanny 911 (Wow, did you see what I did there? That amazing and seamless segue into my topic for today? I didn’t even plan that…I’m just so smart my brain plots a course for me without my knowledge…at least that’s what I’m gonna tell myself.).

Nanny 911 is quite a show. I love it. Here is my take on why. First of all, I confess it makes me feel better about my own situation. But probably not for the reasons you’d think. I used to watch Supernanny ages ago and I always felt a great sense of superiority to these clueless parents and their renegade children. But now the relief comes from a different area, it comes from a sense that I’m not the only parent who struggles. If I’m truly honest with myself, I watch these families and think…I’m like them. I’m like the lite version of them. They’re just a more dense and concentrated dose of the tantrums, crying, fits and screaming (not too mention the kids behavior).
Also, in this show we see there is hope. I watch this family become transformed simply through consistency and maintaining calm and think…I could do that! It fills me with a renewed sense of hope that those bad days we all have are not the end (yes, even those perfect Mommy’s out there lose their cool…unless they had their emotional center surgically removed). I rejoin my family with a new resolve to do better myself. Definitely not a bad thing.
Finally, I want to go hug my kids. Because no matter how difficult they may have been that day, they have never been as concentrated a dose as those kids were. So I thank my lucky stars that, while there are moments I feel close to insanity, they are constantly outweighed by the moments of adorable, melt your heart, cute big eyes, hilarity that makes my world revolve. So in tribute to those kiddos and those moments…here are some of my favorite pics to capture it.















Einstein’s insanity, a literal thorn in my flesh, and catastrophic poop


I was going to just have this post be a journal about my weird day. But the first incident was so long I decided that was plenty. I do have a notes section that summarizes the other fun (insert sarcasm font here) I had today. That way if you could really care less, it makes skimming so much easier.

But for the sake of brevity (well, not even that so we’ll just say for the sake of keeping this from turning into a thesis) I’ll just focus on the incident. The incident that happened after lunch. I head to the Y and drop the kiddos off at the daycare area so I can go pedal on a bike for a while. I’m in my zone, pedaling away for 25 minutes when I hear something. Now, I am no expert at lifting weights, but I do have a basic understanding of how it works. So I can confidently tell you, if you are lifting weights and can’t slowly lower the weights back down, but instead drop them so loudly that I can hear it halfway across the fitness room with my iPod blaring…you may need to go a little lighter. You will risk injuring yourself if the weights are so heavy you can’t control them. In case you haven’t guessed yet, I heard that very sound and glanced around to see who was making the noise. Some woman was yanking with all her body weight on some pull down bars then gasping and releasing them to let them drop. Cringing I just sent a prayer asking God to keep her from breaking something (her or the machine)…at least while I was there. I continue pedaling when I hear a loud thunk a few minutes later. Again I glance over, and again I cringe. She was now laying on the bench press, with the bar across her chest, turning red. The thunk I hear was the weights sliding off the end of the bar as she lost control and let one side slip onto her chest while still holding the other side aloft. I watch as she struggles to lift it…but her only success was in “removing” the other side’s weight as it too slid off. Then the bar collapsed on her chest and she lay their struggling. I looked around for a staff member, or other weight lifters to go help her. But the three people lifting weights were too busy watching themselves do bicep curls in the mirror to notice her and no staff member was in sight. So I get off the bike and run across the fitness room and help her get the bar back into place. After asking her if she was all right she just grunted (no joke, she literally grunted) and then lay back down…all without looking at me. I stood there awkwardly for a moment but when she did nothing to acknowledge my presence or talk to me I wandered back to my bike. I glance over and with a mix of surprise and horror I see that she is again trying to bench press alone and again can’t get the bar back up. This time she at least squirms out from under the bar and then stands up and carries it back to it’s spot. I can’t help but think of Einstein’s definition of insanity, “Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” I’m fairly certain she meets the criteria of this definition.

Note: after the Y we went shopping and then came home and had dinner. During which King Toot decided to poop liquid poop up his front and back. It was pooled under his butt, all over the outsides and insides of his clothes. I needed a hazmat suit just to pick him up. Petty sure he did this because I had just finished bragging about how unlike my other two children, he only had a couple of blowout diapers so far. Go figure. But I did manage to finish the day on a positive note. I had tripped over a cactus over a week and a half ago and my heel was still giving me pain (not the positive part…obviously) Well, I finally managed to dig out the thorn (or spine or needle or whatever the dratted thing is called). It went straight up from the bottom of my heel and was probably at least half and inch long. If you ask really nicely I will include a picture and exact measurements. Cause I know you all are dying to know.


Sir Smiley told me I should take a picture…so I did…

I’m addicted to love…and other stuff Part 2


So the other day I posted about my addiction to the Internet (see the post here if you haven’t read it yet) To continue on in this great confessional (or at least a mild confession…maybe a defcon 5…and yes, I had to look that one up to see if 5 was mild or severe. It’s mild, if you were wondering) I am now confessing another addiction. I am addicted to food.

Now everyone needs nourishment. I’m not denying that. But my love for food goes waaaaaaaaaaaaay beyond simple nourishment. To demonstrate, I will go through a few more symptoms of addiction (and revisit some from my previous post)

Tolerance – the need to engage in the addictive behavior more and more to get the desired effect. I eat healthy for a while. I avoid unhealthy food, prepare some healthy snacks to help. But then, inevitably, I have one day where I don’t…and it results in a cascade. I eat one Twix bar and suddenly can’t stop. After eating a few candy bars, I then need to polish off an entire pint of ice cream. Eventually I reach a point where I can polish off a box of Mac and Cheese or even one of those s’mores pizzas from Papa Murphy’s (Good Gravy are those things amazing!) all by my lonesome.

Difficulty cutting down or controlling the addictive behavior. Yeah, we have relatively few sweets or chips or anything of that nature in our home. Why? Because I have no self control. If it’s there…I will eat it. My kids have snacks that are (relatively) healthy not because I am so awesome as a Mom or even that worried about my kids habits and such…but because I cannot have those yummy snacks staring me in the face. I tried those 100 calorie snack packs…individual portions right? Pffft…I’d polish off three or four of those easy. Same with skinny cow ice cream sandwiches. I shop only when I’m full and always with a list, but even then I could swear there is light shining from the candy aisle with angels singing when I walk past.

Social, occupational or recreational activities becoming more focused around the addiction, and important social and occupational roles being jeopardized. Everything I do starts to revolve around food. Dates, social gatherings, even exercising. I reward a good workout with something tasty. I go out to eat with friends. It’s insane. I just love food. Forget that it keeps me from losing weight or ensures that I will always look like I’m in the beginning stages of another pregnancy or that when I race in a triathlon I’m carrying around 50+ more pounds than my competition…I need that piece of pizza and I need it now!

The person becoming preoccupied with the addiction, spending a lot of time on planning, engaging in, and recovering from the addictive behavior. Now, in my defense, I am basically the sole cook (that’s maybe a bit too generous…meal preparer would probably be more accurate) in our home of five people. So I really do need to spend quite a bit of time planning meals, getting materials, etc. It’s a job even the secretary of defense would find daunting. But set that aside and I still spend a great deal of time pondering what snack I am in the mood for…or on the flip side trying to talk myself out of eating that next piece of Laffy Taffy. Recovery? I eat until I feel I will explode and then spend the rest of the day moaning and whining and generally feeling like one good jostle and I’ll puke everywhere. Yet I always go back.

I REALLY love food. I’m learning ways to cope but I had to admit my struggles first. Now…I am not this bad…anymore. But it’s always there…right under the surface. That desire for delicious, mouth watering food. To me, heaven will be filled with everything tasty and I won’t have to worry about my waist line, cholesterol, or gas. But until then I will have to keep fighting.

I’m addicted to love…and other stuff Part 1


Something happened this past Tuesday. Well, a lot of things happened this past Tuesday. I had a surprise birthday party for Sir Smiley, my sister-in-law came to visit, and we lost our Internet. Not just temporarily either. I mean, someone totally creamed the junction box for our neighborhood, and it took over three days of constant work for them to return my precious Internet to me. This made me realize something. I am addicted to the Internet. Since I didn’t have the Internet, I spent copious amounts of time pondering how I am addicted to a lot of things. So this will actually probably be a series of various things I am may or may not (but probably may) be addicted to. I also may throw in some stories about the surprise party and the joys of tripping over a cactus with your heel. But for now we’ll stick to the addictions. (My withdrawal is so bad my brain is still all over the place!)

First I thought I should be all intellectual sounding and define addiction…or at least the symptoms of addiction. Like withdrawal. Withdrawal, as defined on some semi-legit sounding website, happens when the person does not take the substance or engage in the activity, and they experience unpleasant symptoms, which are often the opposite of the effects of the addictive behavior. So, lets say when you do have the Internet you’re calm and cool…but when you don’t have Internet for three days you’re suddenly irritable with people, frazzled and unfocused, or even hallucinating and talking in your sleep. (well…not hallucinating per se…but maybe you freak out late at night when your husband wakes you up as he comes to bed because you’re certain he’s some stranger. So certain that without actually waking up you sit up and turn on the light looking around.) This might be a sign of addiction.

Difficulty cutting down or controlling the addictive behavior. Yeah…I only went three days and that took a car accident aimed perfectly at the one metal box controlling everything in our neighborhood. Even though it was only three days, I immediately logged onto Facebook and sucked in those vague status updates, random pictures of animals, and quirky Internet memes like they were liquid crack.

Social, occupational or recreational activities becoming more focused around the addiction, and important social and occupational roles being jeopardized. We don’t have cable…we use Netflix. No Netlfix without Internet. My events are scheduled on Facebook and so I had no idea what I was doing. I couldn’t even blog! All my downtime activities were online. Talk about depressing. I think I spent hours playing Ticket to Ride as it was my only game that wasn’t online.

So there’s your proof. I am addicted to the Internet.