Year In Review

January: Cold, wet and brought about the end of .blogspot.com here on The Confessions of a Stay at Home Mom

February: Went to party and on the way home was informed that I whine too much about child's problems. What a downer. One a brighter note, Deedle turned two and began his slow and steady progress towards global domination.

March: Announced the creation of Haiku Thursday!

April: Saw the sad death of Haiku Thursday

May: The Mom announces her desire for a mini-van and is mocked by many. Their mocking will end when they see my fancy new car with its magic doors. I should have enough money to buy it some time in 2015.

June: Flew alone to GA with two small boys. Was judged certifiably insane by several individuals at airport. The K Man got bullied for the first time, turned 5 for the first time, lost all his life long friends for the first time, and got the best damn teacher ever! I share a recent sad truth with a friend who then announces it to all the judgemental people I had hoped to keep it from. Heartbreak galore.

July: The city in which we live chose celebrate the 4th of July with a Journey cover band. The search for a new town begins. I soon learn people now actually like Journey. WTF?

August: I turn 39 and a new leaf.

September: After a mild summer it is 104 degrees and it sucks.

October: The K-Man gets a second teacher, also the best damn teacher ever....is this even possible. Gregory Harrison may or may not have actually commented on my blog because I said he was still hot. I stand by my diagnosis of hotness and welcome Mr. Harrison to the blog any time.

November: The TSA starts grabbing our asses and no one takes my Barry White in the background advice for making the situation tolerable and maybe even pleasurable. Stupid dumb heads

December: Here on the last day of December I am 25 lbs lighter and a thousand times stronger. To a point this was a pretty sucktastic year, but it pulled its shit together in September and came back stronger than ever. Way to go for the win in the 4th Quarter 2010, you rock!!!!

The Warning Signs

In order to pretty protect the citizens of Casa De Mom, we have developed this color coded warning system. Please be alert to the current threat level. We are currently at non so pink, pink. So things are pretty okay. Due to recent chatter on the child front we expect to be at level red or FUBAR in no time at all.

Stupid Head

Over the course of the last year I have come to the conclusion that my body is trying to kill me. Specifically I think that my reproductive organs have decided to drive me to off the deep end one arduous menstrual cycle at a time. Right off the bat, let me explain my uterus has long been a manipulative bitch. She causes trouble and draws unwanted attention to herself until she gets what she wants, which is usually vicodin or chocolate or vicodin covered strawberries dipped in chocolate. Regardless she always gets what she fucking wants while my lungs and feet are just drug along for the ride, helpless victims to her every whim and fancy. Of course my ovaries are her primary facilitator in this long drawn out co-dependent relationship. Again me and the rest of my body parts are just along for the fucking ride, unable to get off this hormonal express.

Recently my uterus has stepped up her assault by soliciting my head in her plot to bring about my downfall. Every month without fail I suffer from PMS induced migraines and this month for the first time I am joylessly experiencing DM (d is for during) migraines. Basically I am walking ball of pain and barfiness. If not for my actual need of a head I would cut the damn thing off. Off it would roll and a brief moment I would feel no more head pain, but then I would remember that I no longer had a head and I would probably be pissed off.

I would gladly rip the whole system out, but my doctor has these things called morals and she will not just take out healthy body parts. Stupid morals. Stupid head. Stupid uterus.

A Very Merry McDougal Christmas

Here is the annual McDougal Chrismas letter. The McDougal's are a fictional family of my own creation. We all get tons of Christmas letters each year and they only show the glossy side of life. My good, fake friend Mo, only tells the truth.

Hello Friends and Family,

Has it been a year since I sat down to right our annual Christmas missive? It hardly seems possible. Oh my word, the McDougal’s have had an exciting if not challenging year. Things seemed so hopeful last year what with Frank retiring, Justin moving back home, Emily getting her dream job in Claxton, and Little Max getting paroled. Well, it seems that things do not always go as smoothly as one might hope.

Frank continues to enjoy his retirement, having taken up newt watching and elf carving. One would not expect to find many newts, but it keeps Frank occupied for most of the day and sometimes late into the night. The elf carving is a new hobby indeed and Frank is considering traveling our proud nation to exhibit his crafts. He is blessed to have found a mentor in Edna Mellbottoms. You all surely remember Edna from her days as the head checker at Piggly Wiggly. In addition to being the best darn checker Piggly Wiggly ever employed, Edna is also a heck of an elf carver and has also shown some interested in newt watching. Edna has been a true blessing to Frank and me, especially given present unfortunate incarceration.

You might remember that last year our oldest ended his marriage to his high school sweetheart Samantha. Justin being all sweetness and no anger gave Samantha the house they once shared together and moved back in with us, at Crescent Way. While we enjoyed having him to home the constant crying proved to be too much for Frank’s nerves. His nerves being shot from his days at the extract factory. So, Justin had to move back in with Samantha and her new husband Gunter. Things seem to being going well. Samantha and Gunter have a full basement and Justin has been able to make himself at home down there with all the cats. Luckily the crying does not carry as badly in their cinder block home as it did in ours.

Emily was unable to maintain the needed level of excellence that the citizens of Claxton have come to expect from their Eye on Claxton news team. She too has returned to the roost. Luckily there is far less crying from Emily and she was recently taken on the challenge of the new frontier of Public Access TV. Emily has been able to create such shows as Cooking with Carl Marx and Fishing with Earl. Everyone is more than pleased with this new source of entertainment. I hear they even tune in down at the pool hall.

Luckily Max we able to obtain a parole! Sadly the rate of recidivisms is very high on fish kidnappers and Max found himself in trouble with the law all over again. Why they do not have better security at catfish farms is beyond me. If you ask me they are asking to have those darn fish stolen. Oh well, there is always next time.

As always, I save myself for last. Many of you may be aware that I have had some legal woes of my own this past year. What I thought was orchid feed was indeed marijuana and in large enough quantities to warrant my arrest and subsequent imprisonment. I now reside for the time being at the Marion Walters State Prison for Women. I have been here for almost 6 months and for the life of me I still cannot figure out who Marion Walter’s actually is, but she put together a pretty nice place. I have a nice room that I share with my roomie, Deborah (or Deb as she prefers to be called). Deborah is a rather large woman who may or may not have stabbed a series of bartenders in the foot. Deborah is adamant that she IS NOT the Tootsie Popper, but I fear that she just might be the notorious criminal. She was after all caught in the act and convicted. In addition to Deborah’s fine company I also get three meals a day that I do not have to prepare myself! Most of my days are spent in the prison laundry ironing the dishrags, but I hope to one day move up to a bleach handler. Frank, Justin and Emily get in to see me as often as they can and I get the occasional letter from Max via the inter-penitentiary mail.

My lawyer is hopeful that Interpol will find my gardening mentor, Jade and that Jade will be able to explain how this horrible mistake was made in the first place. Keep your fingers crossed! Well, it is almost time for lights outs and tomorrow we have the big Christmas parade.

Love and hugs,

Mo McDougal

A Love Note

Honey~

Here it the list of Christmas Card photos from which you may choose.

112710-5 The one where I look like Nero Wolf
112710-10 The one where the Deedle is crying
112710-9 The one where you are sneering at the Deedle, I can only assume this is why he is crying in number 10
112710-15 The one where the K-Man is obviously counting on his fingers. I can only assume he is counting the number of days until he can move out on his own.
112710-13 The one where I actually look really good, but your eyes are closed and the boys are fighting.

I would strongly suggest that your pick number 13.

Love,

Amy

P.S. I have PMS and access to knives.

History

My mom was a witness to the bombing of Pearl Harbor. She was ten at the time and her step-father (only father really, so we rarely make the distinction) was station there. That morning dawned like any other for my then 10-year old mother. Sadly it would have been another day of abject neglect as my grandmother was among other things a raging drunk and a serially unfaithful to her husband. Instead it was a day of standing on the front lawn watching bombs fall, a day of smelling smoke, and a day of wondering where daddy was and hoping he was alright. My grandfather's ship was on maneuvers that day, out of harms way. This fact NEVER sat well with my grandfather. He deeply regretted not being on base that day.

My mother and grandmother fled Honolulu and retreated to the home of a friend who lived in the mountains. My grandmother and many other believed strongly that the island would be invaded by the Japanese at any moment; and apparently they were laboring under the misconception that the Japanese would not be able to find them if they went up hill. For a time, life came to a standstill, school was cancelled and military family members were given gas masks and other protective equipment(this consisted mostly of sanitary pads which were to used as bandages). My mother missed most of the 5th grade and she got in big trouble for leaving that gas mask in the movie theater.

It has been 69 years since the attack on Pearl Harbor and sadly more and more of people who remember that time are fading away. My grandparents died years ago, and my mother is pretty fuzzy on the details. I only know the story so well because I used to bring my mother to school for show and tell every time was covered this part of American history.

Burn, Baby Burn

Dear Neighbors and Those Living in My General Vicinity,

As you are no doubt aware of, by your own return address, we live in California. For those un-initiated into the California experience, let me assure you that one of the reason we all live here is because of the weather. It is currently early December and the talk here is all about rain, not snow, not sleet, not ice, but RAIN and little else. This talk will not get much worse, we might have a hard frost, but that is about it. In the higher elevations, they do get snow(and those people are exempt from the upcoming rant), but for most of us it is just rain. The temps will be in the 50's, 40's and the occasional 30's. Again compared to many parts of the country, this is incredibly mild weather and basically this is why we all deal with insanely high property costs and an even more insanely run government (think the last days of the Greek Empire, but with more whining).

This brings me to my point and yes I have one(insert shocked look here). If the weather here is so mild, then why does it seem like everyone within a 20 mile radius of my house lights up their wood burning fireplace the second the temperature drops down to 60 degrees? Why? For the love of all the is holy, please tell me why. Because I am sick of smelling the burning wood. It drives me crazy. Do you want to know how many times we have used out fireplace in the 6 years we have lived here, ZERO times? I don't even know if the damn thing works. For real, we have central heat, and we really need nothing more than that and a sweater. The power rarely goes out here because we live near an airport and two large national labs. They need the lights on, so the rest of use get some damn fine power service.

The environment and lung factors aside, we have also have this thing in California called Fire Season (it is less of a season and more of an omni-present threat really), and I find it very alarming to smell smoke and not know if it is coming from my chilly neighbor or from a brush fire. Sure if it is raining I know what has caused the smell, but on a day with dry and windy conditions, one really has to take pause and wonder: destruction fire or warmth fire or both as these things can get out of hand.

So, I beg, nee implore all to just grab a sweater and save us all a little fresh breathing air. And the next person burning a wood fire on a spare the air day with the Prius parked outside get turned in directly to Al Gore. I am serious, Al Gore!


Sincerely,

Coughy McCougherson

Dear Santa

The K-Man: I am going to write a letter to Santa (he declares as he pulls his Thomas chair up to the coffee table)

Me: Great, need some help.

The K-Man: Can you write it on the computer?

Me: Sure, but why don't you also draw a picture for Santa to go with the typed letter.

The K-Man: Okay, good. But you have to do the chit-chat.

Me: The What?

The K-Man: The Chit-Chat. In the letter, the Chit-Chat.

Me: What? Stuff like: How is Mrs Claus or is Donner feeling better. That kind of thing?

The K-Man: Yes, the Chit-Chat.

Me: Em, okay. (I type away at the Chit-Chat)

The K-Man: I want a Black Shipping Truck, some hot wheels and a bicycle. Only three things. One, two three.

Me: Well let me finish the Chit-Chat.

The K-Man: (Stares at me like I am some kind of simpleton). Three things. One, two, three. A shipping a truck, hot wheels cars and a bicycle.

Me: Okay, three things. Got it. Go do you picture while I finish the Chit-Chat.

He returns with the picture which depicts him driving the black shipping truck. I think that somehow the world's best Chit-Chat is not going to cover the particular request.

My Motivation

For those who follow me on Twitter and here on my blog, you know that over the last three months I have exercising and leading a healthier lifestyle. As a result I have lost over 20 pounds. Several people have requested that I share what keeps me motivated. Here are some the basic things that I have been doing.

• If I exercise I can eat 1700 calories (I use myfitnesspal.com to track every bite I eat), but I do not exercise I only allow myself 1200 calories. That is a huge motivational factor in my eating and exercising patterns.
• As for my motivation to run, that is pretty easy. I burn more calories in a shorter period of time than I do by just walking. Plus I can be smug and runnery, so that helps.
• When I started running, I set some goals for myself. Goal number one was to run a mile without vomiting. You should not expect too much at first and allow for the fact that your body needs to adjust to anything that is new. After goal number one came the goal to run 2 miles without vomiting and then 3 miles. Once I got to the point were I could easily run 3.1 miles (a 5K), then I started working on running that distance in a shorter period of time. When I started I was averaging 17 minutes per mile and now I average about 13 minutes per mile.
• When you feel temptation coming on, like say at a kids birthday party, just imagine all the time you will have to spend working out to get rid of that cake and suddenly the cake looks pretty yucky.
• Another motivating factor in weight loss. Looking better than that asshole who pisses you off. For real nothing is better than that!

I am on myfitnesspal.com and if anyone wants to be my friend over their just send me a email at green0monkeeatgmaildotcom.