Your mom...

OK, so my husband is funny, a little goofy, and often has an immature sense of humor (you know I'm right), which is usually ok with me because he just cracks me up. So, here's an example of a running joke in our house and how it made a wrong turn last weekend...

About a year ago, Matt picked up the lovely habit of turning everything I say into a "your mom..." statement. Some examples might include the following:

Me: "Will you put this in the oven?"
Matt: "Your mom's gonna put it in the oven."

Me: "Is this too cold?"
Matt: "Your mom's too cold."

Sometimes, these statements are just random and don't make any sense. Every once in awhile, they turn out to be really funny or most often disturbing.

Last Saturday, I hosted my mom's side of the family for Thanksgiving. At the dining room table with me are my mom, my grandma, my uncle, my cousin-in-law and her teenage son. I'm talking to my cousin-in-law and her son. He interjects something that I can't hear. She rolls her eyes and tells me how her son has started adding some phrase to the end of his sentences. Hmmm. Sounds familiar. So, my husband has the same sense of humor as this high school senior!

I try to describe to her Matt's "your mom" habit. To which, my mom pipes up from the end of the table. "That's a good thing, right?" "Uh, sure, Mom!" So, I'm trying to think of an example off the cuff. (I can't think off the cuff.) So, I dig my fork into my plate, pick up a bite and say as way of an example, "this tastes good"!

When I realize my mistake, I'm pretty sure my face turned a lovely hue of red and I followed up with, "uh, nevermind". Awkward!

I have to admit, that I have also picked up the habit. I find myself most often saying it in my head to Elliot. This, of course, is lame (your mom's lame) since I am the mom in question. However, it worked out to my benefit once when Elliot asked me if something was thin enough. Aha! I literally jumped up and cheered for myself over that one! Honestly, what's wrong with me?

Size Matters

I've been hemming a pair of pants this week. There's no reason it's taken me a week, other than the fact that I'm a procrastinator. In fact, I planned on working on them tonight and here I sit on the computer. Hmmm! The reason I'm hemming a pair of pants is that I went to Target last weekend and bought some new clothes. Yeah, me!

Here's my dilemma. Not all of Target's (nor many stores) women's pants are available in varied lengths. Even when they are available in different lengths, I still end up in a quandary. Point in case: I purchased a pair of exercise pants, which were available in "short", "average" and "long" lengths. I held the "average" up to my waist and the legs went about 4 inches past my foot. I held up the "short" and they hit me right at the ankle. I looked at the tag and it said the "short" pants are for women 5'3" and under. I am 5'3". So, I'm right on the cusp of being too tall for "short" pants. Since I know these pants will be laundered on a regular basis, I'm afraid that they're going to shrink and I don't have any room to spare. I went ahead and bought the "short" pair because 1) I refuse to hem exercise pants and 2) I plan to wash them on cold and hang them to dry (fingers crossed that they don't get mixed in with the regular load)!

I also bought a pair of slacks. These were not available in different lengths, but they looked cute (after I turned them hem under in the dressing room and stood on my toes to get a good idea of what they would look like) and they were a reasonable price. So, these are the pants that I'm hemming. I had to take off 4 inches.

So, while I'm hemming my pants in bed lying next to Matt, he asks, "why didn't you just buy shorter pants?" I start explaining this scenario to him and he's not getting it. It occurs to me that he thinks women's pants are sized like men's--with a waist size and an inseam length. They're not. Why not? Women's clothing sizes are ridiculous! You never know what size you are from one store to another or even one brand to another within the same store (i.e. Target).

On this same shopping trip, I bought some new undies. Here's another sizing dilemma. These sizes don't mesh with women's pant sizes. So, if you're a size 6 in pants, you might be a size 7 or 8 in undies. Of course, you don't want to try them on, so what are you supposed to do? I bought 5 pairs. I came home and before I cut off the tags, I tried on a pair over my own, right? Like swimsuit shopping? They fit. All is good! I cut the tags off and wash them all. Yesterday, I wore one of the new pairs. They fit like a glove. Perfect! I wear another pair today...tight in all the wrong places. What the...? That's never a pleasant experience and I can't do anything about it now!

Brains over Braun

Matt and I are equally earnest in our organization efforts around the house. We like for everything to have a proper home and we work to keep everything in it's place as much as possible. We're not always successful (by a long shot), but it's a goal. In the spring, we take down all the summer play equipment that was stored for the winter....bikes, bike trailer, slides, etc. Since these things take over the garage, Matt parks his car in the driveway for the summer. Once it starts getting cold, we pack everything up for the winter, so Matt can keep his car in the garage again. He's not a fan of scraping ice off his windows or digging his car out of snow drifts at 5am and I don't blame him.

We cleaned out the garage last weekend, hanging the bikes from the ceiling for the winter and packing up everything else in the shed. He still couldn't pull his car in, though because our collection of car seats and strollers remained without homes. We collected more of them last year and suffered through juggling them, tripping over them, and playing musical car seat/stroller all last winter. We didn't want to do that again. So, I decided we needed to purchase a shelf for the carseats and hooks for the strollers to get them up off the floor and out of the way.

So, yesterday was the day. Avery and I went to the grocery in the morning before Ethan arrived, so the morning was spent putting groceries away while the kids played. After lunch, I loaded the little ones up (using one of the extra car seats for Ethan) and the double stroller because Home Depot doesn't have carts that seat two little people. Do you see the need for extra car seats and strollers, folks? (a shout-out to the friends and family who have loaned some of those to us...thanks again for enabling me to get out of the house!)

So, I'm at Home Depot, kids in double stroller reading books (aw! everyone oohs and aahs as we enter the store). I load up the basket of the stroller with all the parts of the two storage systems that will fit. Then, I scout out an employee to help me get the bigger items to the front of the store for checkout. I drop almost $200 on storage (ouch!). A nice gentleman helps me load everything in the van and then I have to figure out where the stroller is going to go. I get the kids strapped in and snap the cutest picture of them holding hands! (If only I could figure out how to get pics from my phone onto my computer.)

Once we're home, it's nap time. I get the kids down and head out to the garage to hang my new storage systems. The shelf is to hang on the wall along side where I park the van. I'm careful to ensure that the shelf is going to be high enough that Matt won't crack his skull on it when he gets out of the van (see how nice I am?). This shelving system requires me to hang a 7 foot brace horizontally; attaching it directly to studs. Then, a set of metal standards attach to the brace and hang vertically. Those will also be screwed to the studs. These standards hold the brackets that hold the shelf. Got it? This system is reminding me a lot of the olden days when I worked in retail. Same setup.

So, here's me, all by myself with a 7 foot piece of metal that I'm trying to hang in a level line 8 feet off the ground. How is this supposed to work? I can't hold it level and attach it to a stud at the same time. I have the height marked and leveled. I find my first stud, then measure out the next four. I drive nails into the studs. I use the nails to hold the brace in position so I can screw it in properly. I'm feeling proud of myself folks! Only problem, I cannot drive the screws into the studs. I am using every ounce of strength that I've got and I'm stripping the screws. Son of a... I'm pissed! I have to be able to do this. I get two of the five screws in. The other three each have a half inch or more to go. Crap! I'm going to have to rely on Matt's strength. I hate that! I love my husband, but I've got pride, dammit. I want to be able to do it myself. I am woman, hear me purr? Hell no! Roar, baby!

So, I wait for Matt to get home. (purr!) We've got to get this finished. At this point neither of our vehicles can be parked in the garage. Matt climbs the ladder and makes his first attempt. No go! He can't do it either. So, I'm riding the border of 1)excitement that I wasn't such a wienie after all, 2) frustration that it's not working and 3) concern that tools are going to start flying (Matt has zero patience for projects that go array and it seems like all of ours do). Matt's definitely strong, so there has to be another problem. I decide that the drill bit must not be the right size or is too stripped already. I head off to Home Depot again. After trying to talk to some 12-year old kid about the drill bit I decide that I'm better off without him, especially when he point out that it takes a certain amount of strength to get the job done...grrr (I mean "roar")! I buy new drill bits and head back home with a new plan.

Once I get back home, we attempt to drive the screws with the new bits, no luck. Then I decide that pre-drilling is in order. It works!! Yeah!! Matt takes over now. Humph! That's ok! With our new shelving and stroller storage system installed, I know that my brains triumphed and that's all that really matters! Hehe! ROAR!!

Funny Four

I watched Delaney today, my little doodle bug that I watched from the time she was 7 weeks old up until she went to preschool. Here are some highlights...

• I forgot that she's got a ticklish bladder, meaning that when she gets tickled she pees her pants. Darn! I'm pretty sure I do it every time she comes to my house. I'm a tickler. I can't help it. I always remember about 5 seconds into the tickling, but it's always too late. She didn't have any extra underpants today.
• Me: "Delaney, go potty, then take off your underpants and put your pants back on. I'll wash your underpants while you take a nap." Delaney: "Can I help you?" Me: "No, I'm just going to put them in the washing machine." Delaney: "My mom and dad don't like for me to take off my underpants when I sleep." Hmmm. Good rule.
  
• She runs out of the bathroom, "Amanda, come look at the toilet paper. It's unrolling all by itself. It's wasting, Amanda! It's wasting!" No way did that whole roll of toilet paper unroll itself.
• The excuse to not nap..."I'm afraid to sleep here" in Elliot's room.
  
• I know she'll only sleep about an hour, so I strategically place myself in the front room right under the room where she's sleeping so I can intercept her before she wakes the other little ones who sleep longer (God willing). At the first, "Amanda", I bolt up the steps. "Why did it take me so long to wake up?"
• In the bathroom again, "Amanda, come look." (I know from previous experience that this is not going to be good.) "Someone spilled water all over the floor". How does this little girl pee between the toilet bowl and seat and all over my floor? It's not the first time.
• Delaney: "Am I going to eat dinner with you?" Me: "No, your mommy and daddy want you to eat at home." Delaney: "I'm hungry. When is my dad going to be here? Am I spending the night or what?" Me: "Your dad will be here at 6 o'clock and you're going to eat when you get home." Delaney: "Elliot said my dad will be here at 22 o'clock. Amanda, my mommy and daddy don't want me to eat at home."
  

Connecting the Dots

When I woke on Sunday morning, my throat and ear were aching. Since Matt and I had been without kids the night before, we stayed up until 2:00am playing Rock Band. So, I was chalking the soreness to a late night (also partially to the four attempts to make it through Alanis Morisette's "You Oughta Know", which was a bit of a vocal strain for me)!

The throat and ear soreness wasn't much of an issue the remainder of the day Sunday or most of the day Monday. That is, until Monday evening. Immediately after dinner, I felt exhausted. I crashed on the couch while Elliot did the dishes and Matt cleaned up toys (thanks, boys!). And then the soreness kicked into full gear. It hurt to swallow and hurt to speak. I spent the next hour resting on the couch refraining from any extra vocal strain.

I took a spoonful of honey and headed to bed at 7:00pm. I rested in bed until about 9:00pm, talking very little and not above a whisper. I dropped some olive oil in my ear, (a replacement of the sweet oil that my mom used my ear when I was a child) inserted a cotton ball to catch the oil as it drained, and faded off to sleep to the sounds of Monday Night Football on our bedroom TV.

I woke with my alarm at 4:55am, swallowing cautiously to determine how my ear and throat were feeling. No pain! I hopped (or slowly trudged, after all it was early and I'm not a morning person) in the shower and dressed for exercise. About 10 minutes into my workout, the ear was tingling. By 6:30, the ear and throat were sore again. I found that I was trying not to speak again and then only in a whisper when necessary (this made for a very pleasant morning with Elliot...so astute is the boy who is told what to do via whispers and sign language). I finally decided that it was best not to babysit and get to the doctor. Nip it in the bud.

As soon as Elliot left for school, I went back to bed and slept until Avery called out, "Mommy, Daddy" from her bed at 9:00am. Glorious! Once again, my throat is no longer hurting. Hmmm. Still a little tingling in the ear, but nothing like the night before. Since I've taken the day off, I feel compelled to go to the doctor anyway. I call the doctor and make an appointment for later in the morning.

Throat and ear are healthy! What? I feel like an idiot for feeling so pitiful and for taking the day off. My doctor tells me that it's unusual for an adult to have ear infections. He proclaims the issue to be TMJ. What? He puts his hands on my face just in front of my ears and tells me to open my mouth. Jaw pops with each movement. I know that my jaw pops, but hadn't really given it much thought until this very moment. "Do you grind your teeth?" he asks. "No, but I find myself clinching my teeth a lot." I respond. As he's talking to me about the parts of the jaw and how they fit together I'm realizing that the fact that my jaw sometimes locks shut is probably not normal. Hmmm.

He proceeds to tell me how the nerve connecting the ear and jaw makes pain in the jaw feel like ear pain. He tells me how I should avoid things like chewing gum, taffy, nuts and anything really chewy for the next couple weeks. This can aggravate the jaw. I should take ibuprofen to reduce the swelling and if the problem persists I should see a dentist specializing in TMJ. No problem not chewing gum. I never chew gum because it hurts my jaw...hmmm. Suddenly, I'm remembering that I chewed two Now & Later's Saturday night (someone say "chewy") and ate almonds in my salad Monday night. D'oh!

More connections...I've experienced similar ear pain in the past year every time I've eaten nuts. I was starting to think that I was experiencing a mild allergy. Huh! Maybe it's the TMJ.

Once I'm home, I google TMJ. Another connection...neck and shoulder pain. I get random neck and shoulder pain all the time. I recently went through a bout that lasted several weeks and I could not figure out the cause of it. I thought that it was my sleep position. I tried (unsuccessfully) to force myself to stop sleeping on my stomach even though it's how I've been sleeping since I can remember. Now, I'm wondering if it was TMJ. Hmmm!

Mistaken clothes identity

I'm finding that Elliot's and my clothes are becoming increasingly hard to tell apart. For example, T-shirts are sometimes mistaken. Some are obvious. The Parrot Bay T-Shirt is mine. The Tony Hawk T-shirts are Elliot's. But, Matt has had to ask several times whether an IU T-shirt is mine or Elliot's.

A few weeks ago, I started to hang up a pair of Elliot's jeans in my closet. The only reason I realized they weren't mine was because the three pairs that I own were already hanging. D'oh!

This week, it was a pair of black dress socks. Elliot must have worn them to church Sunday. When I folded them, I first put them in Elliot's stack, then moved them to mine. When I started to put them in my drawer, I determined that they were indeed Elliot's.

Heaven help me when Avery gets older. Of course, she's already got a better wardrobe than me, so maybe it will work to my benefit one of these days!!

Scale slave

I'm guilty! For as long as I can remember, I've been a slave to the scale. Recently, when I got back into the groove and decided to lose some weight and get in shape, this slave-scale relationship resurfaced. In the past, I've limited myself to weighing in once a week. I purposely chose Thursdays to weigh myself because it allowed three days to work off any "bad" choices from the previous weekend.

Over the years, I surmised that weighing myself weekly didn't paint an accurate picture of my weight loss efforts. If I went off track on Wednesday for some reason or if I was retaining water, the number would be high and I would be discouraged. Discouragement led to a downward spiral. This time around, I weighed myself daily so that I could keep a more accurate account of my weight loss. I found this method to be more rewarding. I could see the scale moving in a downward trend most days and if it happened to not move, it was easy to accept because I knew that I was still moving in the right direction overall.

This worked for about 10 weeks, when I came within 3 pounds of a weight that I hadn't seen since high school! I was so excited to hit that number. I wanted to lose that last 3 pounds, and then I would allow myself some slack. Then, I plateaued. The scale didn't move for about 10 days. I started getting disappointed. I had been exercising 6 days a week, even twice a day three days a week, and sticking strictly to my 1200 calorie diet plan--foresaking my husband's and son's pleas for the occasional fast food or pizza. I just wanted to get to my goal and then I could have the occasional "treat".

At the peak of my frustration and mounting disappointment at the stationary number on the scale, I was hit with a huge setback. The scale jumped up 4 pounds one day. Ugh! I had been so good! I had been pushing so hard to drop those last 3 and now I was moving in the wrong direction. What happened? I tried not to get too disappointed. I stuck with the program, thinking it was a fluke and the scale would become my friend again over the next few days. Friendly or not, it didn't move. For another week, this new high number stuck with me. I felt utterly defeated and started to consider binging just to spite the scale. (This has been the downfall of most every other weight loss that I've experienced in my life. When the going gets tough, the weak say "poor pitiful me" and eat everything in sight until a feeling of complete disappointment and disgust is achieved.)

Then, I had a breakthrough. I felt good! Why was I putting myself through this misery? When, I started this journey, I purposely did not set a weight loss goal because I was fully aware of my past fateful relationship with the numbers on the scale. My initial goal was merely to fit more comfortably in my jeans. Only when I saw the pounds dropping, did I set the weight goal. So here I was, my jeans not only fitting comfortably, but with a little wiggle room and I'm near depression mode. Over 3 pounds! Seriously?

So, what's a girl to do? Say, "screw the scale". That's what I told Matt my new philosophy was going to be. If I met my goal of fitting into my jeans and I felt better, why should I be so hung up on a number. So, I moved into maintain mode. I let loose a little bit. I started exercising only 5 days a week once a day and allowed myself to eat some not diet-approved foods in moderation.

Then, Halloween arrived. I insisted that Avery needed some chocolate covered raisins and candy corn because those were candies that her four little teeth could handle. Of course, I didn't admit (to myself) that these are two of my favorite types of candy, too! I spent the whole weekend of Halloween pigging out on snack mixes that included lots of healthy nuts and dried fruit, but also chocolate covered raisins and candy corn. Oh, and cookies. In the days leading up to Halloween, I had an urge to bake some pumpkin-shaped iced sugar cookies. So, I was eating plenty of those too.

I vowed to get back into action after the weekend, but an unexpected change of schedule prevented me from exercising for two days and on top of that, I continued my binge of all things unhealthy including polishing off "Avery's" chocolate covered raisins and partaking of the Halloween Oreo's that were 75% off after the holiday.

After my 6-day binge, I decided enough was enough. I'd worked too hard and was afraid I was on a slippery slope. I threw away the last of the candy corn and vowed to get back to business the following morning. I got up early to exercise, but stopped by the scale first just to see where I was. I was hoping not to have gained more than 3 pounds.

I was back down to the original number--the one where I was only 3 pounds from that high school weight! The one that I hadn't seen in more than two weeks! What? How could this be? So, back to my motto of "screw the scale". I'm back to 5-day/week exercise and staying mostly on my 1200 calorie plan with some occasional wiggle room. Get a grip, girlfriend!

Spelling

Matt was helping Elliot with his spelling tonight. Elliot's having a hard time spelling peculiar. Matt gave Elliot a tip to help him remember. "Pec, you liar" (pec-u-liar). Elliot says, "cool, it's like you're saying a bad word." Hmmm? "Puck you, liar". Not quite the same.