Do you ever wake up and just feeling like bitching?  Yup.  One of those days. 


The real reason I woke up and contemplated being a bitch ALL day long?  I stepped on the scale.  #areyouf*ckingkiddingme almost mumbled out of my mouth. But I wasn’t awake long enough to form a sentence that long.


So.  That pretty much set the tone for the day.  Which is ridiculous, I know.  Please don’t comment that you’re not what you weight, and blah blah blah.  I get it.  I know.  But I got on that scale and now I want to bitch. 

So.  I think I need to re-evaluate a little bit.  Time to use the scale a little less frequently.  Once a week is a start.  Maybe I’ll move to longer intervals, but that’s a big step for this girl who gets on the scale every morning. 



I’m tired of letting it become the deciding factor of my mood every day.



is golden.  Or nice.  Or horrible.  Yes, I feel like a schizo right now (don’t worry, I checked the spelling).

I sent one of the lovlies off to Lito and Lita’s house for the weekend.  She was invited to a birthday party that we were not.  This kid has a bigger social life than we do.  The other chubster is napping.  So, for all intensive purposes, I’m alone.  ALONE.  IN MY OWN HOME.  Which happens NEVER.  Sweet Jesus.  And what am I doing?  Yes, the same shit I do when my kids are here.  The same shit I do when my husband is here.

I feel like I should be doing cartwheels naked through my first floor.  Except that I can’t do a cartwheel.

I have a party tonight, so I should take a shower and take my sweet ass time getting ready.  There is currently a small putting green on my bedroom floor from my husband’s golf shoes, so I could be cleaning up there.  Nope, I’m checking Facebook, making sure I friend Leslie Marinelli (duh, TheBeardedIris), who is switching her FB account, and drinking Diet Coke.

What is WRONG with me?

I finally feel like I can write again, I don’t know why.  I felt like my creative juices just weren’t flowing.  In the four weeks of monsoons recently, I just haven’t felt up to much, other than praying that my kids won’t attack one another while we are stuck inside every day.

Oh and yes, I’m trying REALLY f-ing hard not to eat everything in my pantry.

Another One Of Those Nights…

Tonight is another one of those nights.  Nights where I’m not impressed by my parenting skills.  Nights where I’m tired, hot and not full of patience.  Nights where I’m just Done.  With a capital D. 


My house is trashed- and I can’t find the energy right now to pick up the mess.  So far today I’ve been peed on, hit, screamed and told that I am the worst Mom ever.  Yes honey, I am well aware.  My mind seems more trashed than my house at this point.

I usually teeter somewhere on the verge of happy and crazy most days.  I love my happy/crazy mix, and while it usually overwhelms my husband, I love the chaos of our overstuffed life.  Today, there were no extra commitments or places to go.  And it still flopped.  Just goes to prove that you can’t make this shit up.  Parenting is HARD WORK.


And even though I should be spending the extra quiet time with my husband, as soon as he gets home from work (a nice 13 hour day), I’ll be begging at the door to go for a run.  Because I need to have some quiet time with me first.  I feel like I couldn’t even make a sentence if I tried right now. 


So, I am going leave the mess for tomorrow…. and just keep swimming.

Till Death Do Us Part?

In the last two weeks, I’ve heard of three couples my age (between 28-32) that are getting divorced or broke off a long engagement.  This absolutely breaks my heart.  I’m not here to judge- and this post isn’t meant to judge anyone- I’ve never been in this position so I honestly can’t have an opinion on anything they’re going through, and I’ve always said that you don’t know what people’s life is like behind closed closed doors.  Marriages that look all wonderful on the surface may be very different out of the spotlight.

But I still feel bad.  The divorce rate makes every young couple feel like they’re up against impossible odds.  Just last night on a tv show (don’t judge my trash tv habit), the only couple who appear strong and grounded threw the D word at each other.  At what point do we say that it’s not an option?  And if it’s not an option- at what point do we know it’s so bad we have to get out?  It’s such a double-edged sword.

Don’t get me wrong- hubs and I have had our share of nasty arguments and down and out moments- but I’ve never had the feeling that we wouldn’t figure it out together in the long haul.  Sometimes we’ve wholeheartedly disagreed on important topics, but still, we know we can compromise, or accept that one person will get their way.  Life just isn’t always fair.  But what about those relationships that are broken?  It’s probably more emotionally healthy to be apart, but how do you know?  My heart aches for people who have to make this decision. 


The Other Side…

I’ve been thinking about posting for awhile.  The problem is that I have been struggling to put something together.  I sometimes feel like my thoughts swim, but don’t form into a sensible paragraph, much less a blog post.

Tonight, I found my inspiration.  Do you watch Long Island Medium?  I guess GP and I started watching her a year ago.  It was easy bedtime watching.  A great show to not have to worry about keeping up with the weekly drama of a show.  Of course tonight was the season premier.  Since it’s Mother’s Day and I refused to make dinner (okay, I do this most nights anyway), we ordered take out, and snuggled up for the two-hour special.  Of course I cried several times, especially hearing of the stories of special daddies losing their lives in tragic accidents, kids gone too soon from brain tumors or accidents, and mothers not being there for their children due to illness and mental illness.  This breaks. my. heart.  If you know me, you know that I DON’T cry.  It’s not that I don’t have emotion, I just don’t show or convey it well.  But this show just strikes a chord with me.

If you know you wouldn’t be here tomorrow, how would you live your last day?  If you knew that I family member that you loved only had a limited amount of time left, how would you spend it?  When you die, will you be proud of who you were? 

I often think about two people who have passed to the other side (as Theresa would say).  I think about my grandmother, who is the only person that I have seen die.  I think about my family friend, who I often refer to as my cousin, who died way too young of a second bout with a brain tumor.  My sister often talks about signs.  When she’s trying to make a difficult decision or is unsure about something, she asks my grandmother for a sign.  My grandmother and my sister were very close.  She was the first grandchild, which my grandparents desperately wanted.  She often sees signs and meets people who she believes are sent to her from my grandmother.  It’s not that I don’t believe what my sister is saying, it’s just that I don’t see signs.  I often also think about the ways that these two influential people died.

My grandmother deteriorated quickly from kidney failure.  She had dementia and should not have been living alone.  If you’ve ever seen someone in this state, it’s much easier to think that you can move them out of their house than actually trying to do so.  I did not envy my mom who had to lie to her to get her to doctor appointments.  For several days, she drifted in and out of the “It’s time to say goodbye,” stage.  We would rush to the hospital, and she would put up the good fight again.  The night of her death, my mom, who had been at her bedside most of the time, went across the street to get dinner with my dad.  My cousin had arrived from out of town, my aunt arrived from out of town and we sat around laughing and telling stories to pass the time.  We laughed about grandmother’s sense of humor and  personality throughout the years.  All of the sudden, we looked over, and watched her sigh her last breath.  It was almost as if she was waiting for the light moment where her kids were joyful to go.  My mom was an utter mess that she couldn’t be there.  I feel guilty knowing how much it hurt my mom that she wasn’t there in that moment. 

My cousin had a similar weird experience.  She declined after having several headaches and dizzy spells after her five-year cancer free remission.  She didn’t tell anyone for a long time, and the only reason I can provide, is because I think she knew that she didn’t want to fight until the end again.  Perhaps she knew it was the end?  She was flown back to her home, and her parents put her in hospice.  It was horrible to see her breathing so hard, fighting to stay alive.  When you see someone in that state, you want to tell them to go.  Stop fighting.  Stop trying to be brave for us.  Stop putting your parents through this daily struggle.  Now, we know why she kept us hanging on.  The night that her brother arrived back from his military deployment in Germany, she died.  She waited for Mark to return.  She wanted to hear from him, his wife, and their baby.  Once she had said goodbye to everyone, she faded to sleep forever. 

So, religion or not, belief of not, how can people communicate?  How do people look for signs?  I think I don’t see them because I don’t stop to try to see them.  I also don’t ask for them.  This is something I’d like to change.  Perhaps it will allow me to stop and think.  Some time to slow down and question.  Do you look for signs?  Do you believe in mediums or communicating with those that have passed?  If so, how do you know?


I’ve had a case of the Mondays. In every way possible.

My kids did not want to get out of bed to go to the babysitter when I woke them up this morning. They begged and pleaded for one more day home with me. I felt awful.

I tested my kids at school to death another time. I felt awful.

I picked my kids up from said babysitter and came home to prepare dinner. A dinner no one liked. I felt awful.

The crying began. The arguing began. Time out, talking, time out, hitting, time out. I felt awful.

One and a half hours of trying to tough it out, talk it out, threatening her to go to bed. I felt awful.

And then I read this. It doesn’t make me a horrible mom that I had all of those feelings, because honestly, who hasn’t? We all need to Carpe Kairos, because the whole Diem doesn’t always work.

But seriously? This woman lost a stillborn baby after having a baby who has quite frankly the worst medical run ins. This puts it in perspective.

And then I turned on the tv and saw this. My babies are here. And alive. THIS puts it in perspective.

And at the end of today, I’m exhausted, much more mentally than physically, but I’m here. I’m healthy. I’m alive. And I’ll show up to try again tomorrow.

But for now- I’m taking a dose of the best drug ever. Sleep.




I started Isagenix today.  I was so gung ho and excited.  Until I drank the vanilla shake for breakfast.  It’s pretty nasty.  I’m hoping and PRAYING the chocolate shake is better tonight.  That being said, I  know we’re close to bathing suit season, so I need to get back in the saddle.  Finding my motivation is important.  I’ve been half decent about working out (okay, not the last two weeks), but eating is a struggle.  I’m hoping the Isagenix resets my nasty habits.  I don’t eat a ton, but I make AWFUL choices.  So…. insert motivation.Image

I found the next business opportunity.  Have a channel that plays in the gym or on a cable network where only motivational stuff that I’ve found on Pinterest is posted.  Because hell to the yeah I’d run a little faster, lift one more weight, and stay five extra minutes.  Sweating your ass off just walking on the treadmill?  No worries. 


So, I’ll wait for Daddy to get home from work so I can sneak out to the gym for a bit.  This weight has to come off.  I’m officially ten lbs heavier than I was last summer.  Not good.  I wasn’t even happy with my weight last summer, so it’s just ten more pounds added to the pile.  I think I can, I think I can!



Because this is my favorite motivation- who’s with me?