Done Dieting

Hi. I have an addiction. I’m not ashamed, but I probably should be.  I’ve jumped into the technology age and it has taken me over.  Never did I think that an inanimate object would be so useful in my life.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I’m addicted to my iPhone.

Do you hear the hallelujah choir, too?

In the mornings, it wakes me up with the most annoying sound.  Incredibly annoying.  And I hit snooze.  Many times.  I don’t leave the house without it.  Well, I did once, but I had a bit of an anxiety attack and stole hubby’s.  A girl has to have her apps when she has to have her apps.  You’d think that this thing did everything.  Oh, wait, it kind of does.  It doesn’t pee for me, but I can set alarms to remind me to go.  Sad, I know.

I take notes on it constantly.  I can record voice messages, which comes in handy when you get verbally attacked over the phone.  Or on FB.  I can take pictures of  hateful and just plain nasty messages put on FB, that are quickly deleted and save them for an eternity.  I love that feature.  That’s how I got this picture of my home screen.

And the folders that you can create, they practically spontaneously generated from my OCD.

It’s an older version of the phone.  I actually have the 3G.  Not even the 3GS or the 4.  My little, older iPhone is still a wonderful addition to my life.  What can I say?  I have a problem.

Thank goodness the apps don’t organize themselves like this.  I’d be screwed.

I’m also an enabler.  My Hubby, BFF, some coworkers, some friends have been persuaded by my love for this whore of technology.  I should be ashamed.  Yet, I’m not.  I could seek help though.  Maybe.

This is the important part of this post:

Really, I just couldn’t think  of what to write today.  My dad is in the hospital and I don’t want to think about it.  He’ll be fine.  The phone helped me 10 times yesterday while I was with him.  I had to give the gadget a shout out.  Holla!

School has been a bit of a rough transition for Bean.  He’s in Pre-K.  My mom believes that he’s too small to be in school yet and that it’s too structured of an environment for him.  My father is a bit perturbed by the fact that it is a Catholic school and you just never know about those priests.  My husband and I were convinced that we didn’t think he could spend one more minute in daycare.  However, he’s a willful child.  His teacher struggles with him daily, so much so that it can be daunting to read the notes she sends because to me it sounds like she’s describing some other child.  Mine would never pitch a fit, Mrs. Arreaga.  Oh no, you must be mistaken he would never take a bite out of someone’s breakfast.  Ian?  No he would never climb up on a chair and jump off of it.  Repeatedly.  Are you sure it’s him?  I don’t know why he won’t work in class.  You understand, right?  I just don’t know what to do with him.

However, last night something happened at home that really got me thinking.  We have been trying to get him to pick up his pencil correctly.  He never does it.  Ever.  Every time he goes to pick it up, he does it backwards.  It was frustrating to us because he is willful and we figured that he was just being difficult.  Then Hubby asks him to pick it up with his other hand.  His left hand.  And he does it.  The right way.  WTF?  I felt like I was hit with a brick.  Could it be that he’s a lefty?

He eats with both hands, writes with both hands, can throw a ball better with the left hand, kicks with both feet, if you hand him something he’ll grab it with either hand.  He’s pretty much split down the middle.

Is he or isn’t he?

Could it be that he is so frustrated with this one little thing that he is acting out altogether?

Color me curious.  Well, that and color me oblivious, too.

Thank goodness for lawyers.

My wonderful, intelligent, insightful friend Erika provided me with the best idea ever.  I don’t know how I didn’t think of it, but I guess it has to do with her years of law experience, paired with her playful nature that bested me.  I can see the trial now.

Monster v. Bean

Hopefully it won’t come to that, but if it did I’d want her on my side.  She gave me the perfect solution to my monster dilemma.  Monster repellent.

Oh. Hell. Yeah.  If I would have gotten her comment before 9 pm last night I would have been brewing some concoction in my kitchen yesterday.  However, I didn’t get to it in time.

Tonight I have every intention of creating some version of a monster repellent for Bean.

Ingredients:

2 cups water

1 stick cinnamon

1 T. cloves

1 clove of garlic (for vampires)

1 sprig of lavender

Boil and cool.  The cinnamon and cloves will give it a homey, calming feel, the garlic will keep away any vamps and the lavender is soothing.  Really, it’s just going to be a lot of water with a little smell.  It ought to be very interesting.

Who knows, maybe I’ll market it.

Now, this could go several ways.

1) It works and we have a monster-free home.

2) It doesn’t work against these particular “monsters”, because from what I hear they aren’t the normal kind.  They don’t listen to reason, and they like to tickle little kids.

3) I’ll be brewing this concoction till he’s a tween.

As long as I don’t find him sitting in the middle of his bed, wearing an aluminum foil hat, holding a bat and wearing a head of garlic around his neck, I’ll consider this to be a WIN!

Hopefully, tomorrow’s post will be about something more entertaining.   Like my impending midnight confrontation with Mr. Green-Purple-Blue or, even better, the smudging I do to keep the heebie geebies away.  You just never know with a 4 year old.

Image courtesy of Google images.

For the longest time I insisted to Hubby that we needed a king size bed.  Yes, it was for selfish reasons.  He’s a furnace, 6’4″, and took up more than half the bed.  Plus, he snored.  He’ll also be up for sale on Craigslist later today if anyone is interested.  He should be back to “normal” in 6 – 8 weeks.  I’m losing track here…

Anyway, my request for a king size bed went ignored.  It was never a priority for him and he wanted to be close to me.  Ick!  I love the man, but I’m a private sleeper.  If I can put 2 feet between us and still like you in the morning, I figure we’re in it for the long haul.  So I struggled for about two years to get him to bend on my request.  Sometime in April of this year he caved.  And I got my luscious king size bed.  I was in heaven.  Microfiber sheets, fake down duvet (for friendliness to animals), wonderful plush pillows.  Amazing.

Everything was glorious with my king size bed, until last night.  At about 10:30 pm my son came into the bedroom and said “Good morning!”.  If you’re a mother this sets of oh crap alarms in your head.  If you’re not a mother, make a note of this.  I figured I could persuade him back to his room under the guise that he was still asleep, you know, a total fake out.  Didn’t work.

“It’s not morning, it’s time to go back to bed”, I said.

“But, I’m thirsty”, he says, and throws himself on the ground dramatically.

“I’ll get you something to drink.”

“I want milk.”

“You can have water”, he continues with the meltdown.

“Stop crying, you can’t have milk right now.  You already brushed your teeth.” I go to get him a cup of water.

We go back to his room.  I get him back in bed.  I cover him up and I start to rub his back.  He closes his eyes.  He says that he needs the door closed and that he’s ready to go to sleep.  I get up and leave, closing the door behind me.  I think to myself that I’ve just been duped by a 4 year old.

I finish getting ready for bed.  I lay down and start to wind down.  I’m reading my “crack” magazine, Real Simple.  Ironically, there is a really good article about parents who make the conscious decision to have only one child.  I can totally relate to that when I hear his bedroom door open, and close.  I look at the hubby and he looks at me and we aren’t sure what to do at this point.  Do we quickly turn out the lights and start snoring, do we get up and head him off at the pass, do we suck it up and just let him show up, what do we do?  He’s pretty fast.  He was in our room crying within 2 seconds.

“There is a purple, green, blue monster in my room.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  It’s under my bed.”

“Bean, all of the monsters in the house are nice ones.  They are afraid of Mommy and Daddy so they behave.  We told them to take care of you.”

“No.  They’re mean.  They don’t want me to be safe.  Who will protect me from the monster, the humans?”  A little creepy.

“Ok.  You can lay down with us for a little bit. “

Eight hours later, needless to say, I had a terrible nights sleep.  So did Hubby.  My usual space was reduced to a foot width space.  Hubby has about the same amount of room.  Bean was super comfortable laying horizontally across the bed.  His feet on my head, and his head on Hubby’s chest.  Just imagine what it would have been like if we had a queen size bed.

I’m putting out an APB for this pesky little creature.  I don’t want him back.  I just want him to go away.

Photo courtesy of Google Images and macmcrae.com.

I could go into a drawn out explanation as to why I’ve been absent, however, I’m a listmaker, so here goes.

• Permanent babysitter, my mom, went out of town.
• Husband broke his collarbone.
• Started a home-based business.
• Continued working two jobs without recognition for either.
• Got verbally attacked by an evil, hateful person on Facebook.
• Contemplated getting rid of FB, until I got a friend request from a dear old friend.  Blast and curse you FB!  You should be destroyed.
• Haven’t had a chance to hang out with friends, truly diminishing my funny life events.  I doubt you want to hear about my dinner every day.
• Husband had surgery for his broken collarbone.  Didn’t. Go. Great.
• Decided that one fun, high point in my life is blogging.  But I’ve been bad about it.  I should be punished.  Oh wait, maybe if I start blogging, the universe will stop punishing me.

Here’s for trying!  I plan on being back for a long time now.  I’ll make the time.