Friday Confessional: No Surprises Here

I confess…

I hate doing laundry.
Yeah, well, join the club!
I would love to join the club and get matching jackets (that would never requiring cleaning) and swap names for our piles of clothes (my current favorite is Mount Washmore) and empathize over the stray crayon that somehow made it into the dryer with the girls' nice dresses.

I confess…

It wasn't just the act of doing the laundry but the hopeless, never-ending onslaught of clothes. The laundry is never "done." It's just not possible, especially since I've been potty training Baby this week (don't ask - it ain't pretty). So I avoided laundry like I avoid green beans.

I confess…

I felt like a failure because, for me, it hurts to do the laundry. Well, if you're bionic, it hurts. To understand better, next time you put in a load, switch it to the dryer, etc., try not using your right arm. You can't even use it to balance the load. So go about the laundry with one arm and see how much harder it becomes. And you can all thank me later for the greater appreciation you will have for the use of both arms to move wet clothes.

I confess…

I don't do the laundry anymore and that has made all the difference.

I confess…

The Man is the one hauling loads and sorting socks. My husband is the best, sexiest, sweetest, strongest, did I mention sexiest?, and most wonderful man. He was in awe of the fact that we produce loads of whites, darks, lights, and pinks.

I confess…

Seeing him add the fabric softener sheets to yet another load of clothes makes me fall in love with him all over again.

Friday Confessional: Back to School

So…seems like I've only been posting lately when there's a meme to fill out or some other obligation. Hence, the "first day of school" post. Sure, we celebrated and it was a big deal and I've been admiring everyone else's adorable, backpack-bearing children and my blog has remained silent…except for the memes. Yeah, well…maybe I need to adjust my happy pills.






I confess…
I was really looking forward to the day when school started.

I confess…
I may have counted down the days. Just a little. Especially when the advertising, sales, and stacks of notebooks started showing up everywhere. Then came the planning for the annual party at the bus stop, where the families all meet together early, bringing juice and frosted carbs to celebrate the start of another year, before loading our offspring on a large, awkward metal conveyance that lack proper restraints.

I confess…
When Boo started school, I cried a little as she climbed on that bus, her tiny legs barely able to make it up the stairs. Then I cried a little bit more back at home, when she wasn't there for what seemed like a very, very long time. I fought the tears when she came home, tired but happy. Even laying out her clothes for the next day got me a little weepy.

I confess…
Boy's first day was met with much more enthusiasm. This change wasn't because the Boy was a difficult child; he's a pretty typical boy. Mainly, I was excited because he was so excited to hop on that bus. Finally, all those mornings spent with his nose pressed to the window, watching his sister make the long walk (half a block) to wait for the bus. He probably didn't sleep much the night before. Also? It's not nearly as scary the second time around.

I confess…
When Baby starts school, I will probably be a jiggly mess of sobbing and snot. It won't be pretty, folks.

I confess…

*sigh*

I love my little family. We are very blessed. And the best part? Is how much they love each other back. I'm not the only one that's addicted to the hugs and sloppy kisses.

Friday Confessional: I am Dork, Hear me Roar

I confess...

I am a dork.

I've known about my dorkiness since junior high, when I first started watching Doctor Who episodes with my older siblings. Aliens are cool. So are bow ties.

I confess...

I denied my dorkside for years, all through high school, where I giggled over episodes of MTVs The Real World when secretly, I just wanted to read the latest Dragonlance or Xanth novel.

It wasn't until college that I truly embraced who I was. So what if I liked British humor and found Monty Python and the Holy Grail hysterical? So what if I read books about magic or vampires (before they were all sparkly and angsty)? And so what if my favorite movie is futuristic eye candy featuring Bruce Willis falling for a perfect, engineered woman? I love that movie!

I confess...

Sometimes, I still try to hide my dorkiness, but then I just come across as kinda annoying. I'm much better at being myself.

I confess...

I've learned that not everyone likes dorky stuff. That's fine. I don't always like trendy stuff (like ginoromous flower headbands on babies). But I'll still hang out with you.

Besides, more people need to drop the things that don't make them happy and embrace their inner dork. There's nothing wrong with dorks. There are a lot more of us anyway.

Friday Confessions...on a Tuesday

I planned to post this during the Great Bloggession of 2011. I've heard the official downtime was only 14 hours but I haven't been able to get on for several days. And I'm assuming that this is the reason why my readership has tanked...

Anywho...

I confess...

I wasn't actually here just a little bit ago. Sure, I posted and whatnot but...not here.

I confess...

I was on a cruise.

I confess...

It was horrible and I missed you guys so much! I'm so glad to be home.

I confess...

That last part was a lie.

It was actually fantastic. And this time, I remembered my camera charger so I've got lots of pictures to share. In fact, I'm thinking of starting another blog to help others with my, uh, curves in making the best decisions. The working title is "Fat White Chick's Guide To Cruises." What do you think?

And I learned some new things while on board this time. Never knew that cruises could be so friendly toward "friends of Dorothy." And that the Man's inappropriate comments about towel animals tends to make each nightly creation all the more giggle-worthy.

Friday Confessional #5

I confess...

I like to torture my kids. Okay, maybe that doesn't sound right; I don't want anyone calling CPS on me.

I like to pester, tease, and taunt my kids. That's better.

It's great when I know the punchline to their jokes before they give it. They are extremely trusting and just a little too ticklish. I make up silly songs involving them and their various faults character traits. Hey, it's not like I sing them in public...much.

I confess...

April Fool's Day is like giving me a free pass to make them miserable all day long! Last year, I had pneumonia and too busy not dying. This year, I think it's safe to say that I made up for that.

Somehow, Boo's clock got set an hour later so she came rushing into my room, all frantic that she missed the bus. I could hardly go back to sleep, I was cackling with glee.

Then the Boy woke up looking like this:

It was only fair, since he missed out when the leprechaun visited. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, he begged me to let it stay on so he could show his friends at school.

When I fixed Boo's hair for school, I tucked in a hair clip with pink and blue hair attached. Unfortunately, her brother pointed it out to her before she left. She loved it. Hrmm...maybe I was losing my touch.

I let the suspense build all morning. When lunch came without any more incidents, the Boy didn't think it was odd that I was taking pictures of him while he ate. I even gave him Oreos! I must be the coolest mom ever! At least until he ate those cookies.

Here's the Before shot:

And the After.

Some naughty person had replaced the "white stuff" in his second Oreo with toothpaste! Yuck! I just love his eyebrows! They are the most expressive part of him. Boo had a similar experience with her lunch, which she thought was perfectly safe since it was a prepackaged Lunchable that hadn't been tampered with...that she could tell.

Boo brought a friend home from school. Before I agreed to the play date, I asked the friend's aunt if it would be alright if I played pranks on him along with my kids. I am pleased to say that she whole-heartedly agreed.

It's not unusual for me to provide a really fun treat or new snack when the kids have a friend over. In fact, they've come to expect it. So when I brought out these awesome, giant SweetTarts, their eyes shone with joy...until they tasted them. Not SweetTarts...fizzing bath beads.

We were going to teach Boo's friend a new game but we ran out of time. It's a game my parents used to teach all the new missionaries that came over for dinner, one involving a piece of paper with a bullseye drawn on it, a quarter, someone's nose to roll it down, and a really soft-leaded pencil with which to trace the quarter where it fell. Those are some great memories.

I confess...

I get my mean streak through genetics.

Friday Confessional #4

I confess...

Dr. Pepper from a soda fountain makes me hiccup.

(Sure, it's a silly confession but I figured after the heavy stuff last week, we could all use a little levity.)

It's only the Dr. Pepper...never the Diet Coke or Sprite. And even though I know it's coming, the hiccups still take me by surprise.

I confess...

I'm a snob when it comes to soda. I'd rather have plain water instead of Coke. Yuck.

And in Texas, every drink is a Coke. Everything! At my very first job, I worked in food service and would frequently double-fill drink orders because the customers asked for three Cokes, a Diet Coke, and two Sprites. So I gave them their six drinks and they get all confused. "But I just wanted the Diet Coke and Sprites!" Then why did you order three Cokes? ARRRGGGGG!!! And I wonder why I never got Employee of the Month.

I confess...

I like calling it soda as opposed to pop. But nearly every time I say "soda," I think of that one Mythbusters where they're playing with Diet Coke and Mentos and Adam says "Soda!" in this funny way. That makes me smile. "Soda!"

My current aluminum can of happiness is Diet Pepsi Vanilla.

Having a favorite soda and loudly proclaiming it is almost like talking politics. Everyone feels strongly and cannot be swayed from their opinion. And anyone who doesn't share that same opinion is a tasteless fool.

What is your favorite soda?

Friday Confessional #3

I confess...

I miss my body.

Maybe it's all these zumba classes I'm taking where I just can't make my hips roll like they used to or get my feet to keep time but I'm struggling with just how much I took a healthy body for granted. I'm not entirely sure my bum was meant to rotate like that. At least not without a "wide load" warning or those automatic back-up beeping noises to alert those around me.

I miss the tight jeans I used to rock out in during High School, the adorable dresses and skirts that caused all production to stop whenever I walked into the warehouse during that summer job. But it's not all about how I used to look.

I miss not panting after running up the stairs or being able to hold that crouch just a little bit longer. I miss being able to shop in normal stores and fit into mainstream styles that don't involve muumuus or other creative ways to disguise the fact that I've had three kids.

I confess...

I miss my arm.

The Friday Confessional is about admitting the truth, right? This is perhaps the hardest truth I have.

I miss being able to reach that top shelf with both hands, not having to get creative when the occasion calls for uplifted arms, or successful attempts to shake hands with someone from a seated position. Every time I drop a basket of laundry because my shoulder gave out, I miss it. Every time I can't sleep at night because a storm front is moving in and my shoulder throbs, I miss it. Every time I can't carry a sleeping child upstairs to bed because it requires two arms, I miss it.

I try to convince myself that I don't miss having two working arms, that I've compensated after all these years. Heck, I've lived most of my life now as the Bionic Woman. People who have known me for years still don't know there's anything wrong or are surprised when they find out because I don't dwell on it, don't bring it willingly. But the truth is...I miss it.

I always will.

Friday Confessional #2

I Confess...

I have no fashion sense. Just one look at what I'm wearing will tell you that.

I buy outfits based on the mannequin or pictures, just so I'm sure things go together.

Even though I love watching Project Runway (so does the Man but don't tell him I told you), I rarely pick the right winning outfit. In fact, quite frequently, my favorites are amongst the "worst" according to the judges, with descriptions like "matronly," "boring," or "out-dated." Yep. That's pretty much me.

I recently purchased a new top and was all excited that it was green because I don't have many shirts that are green. But when I hung it up in my closet, I realized I had a nearly identical top in blue. No wonder I liked it so much.

And I really wish I had more shoes. I've tried! I go to shoe stores and try on some adorable pairs that go with absolutely nothing I own. Usually, they don't fit or I can't walk in them. Chubby ladies should not attempt stiletto heels. I think it might void my health insurance.

I'm beyond professional help. Not even my most fashionable friends can help because, honestly, clothes for fat ladies aren't that great. They either attempt to draw attention away from the huge buttocks and direct it to the plunging cleavage. Or they are in denial that a woman with my curves would have a muffin top. Honey, I gots me a whole lotta muffin.

I'm not color-blind, just fashion-blind.

Now go visit Mamarazzi, who is most fashionable and definitely not a jerk.

Friday Confessional

I Confess...

I once gave up drinking milk for an entire year.

I was trying to be healthier and read a book by Mary Lu Henner, which contained on entire chapter on how bad milk is for your body.

After reading that, the thought of milk made me sick to my stomach.

So for 12 months, I drank almond milk instead.

For those of you not familiar with almond milk, it tastes like melted ice cream, and is just about as fattening.

I didn't lose weight.

Also, I tried soy cheese and decided that chewing on the plastic wrapper that normal cheese comes in would taste better.

After a year, that first glass of milk tasted like nectar of the gods.