This was the recommendation Amazon sent to my inbox. I realize that my blog posts are in no way scintillating and a must read but this, a book telling me no one cares about my mundane life, just really makes me want to put pen to paper.

I did it, I joined Facebook. I am completely amazed at how far I can go into my life's history and find people. I can see where it could be a complete time sucker. But I am drawing the line at Twitter. I just can't do it.

I remember back in the days of AIM and Yahoo IM. All day long, at work of course, I would be instant messaging. One day the owner of my company, Al, asked me who I had sent 350,000 messages to. I played it off like Al was crazy, no way it was 350,000, maybe 150,000 but not over a quarter million I had a job to do so how could I have that much time.

I doubt Al would have been impressed that my typing WPM went from 35 to almost 100 since he was not paying me to type anything. Still it is a skill I perfected while in his employment and I thank him for that opportunity.

My work has been experiencing some major changes. The production floor is on reduced hours, 32 per week and we lost 30 employees due to terminations and a few early retirements. Some of the men had literally worked side by side in the late owner's garage before my company took off, forty years ago. Forty years of service, amazing, but still they were working and did not leave their lifelong career on their own volition.

Every couple of weeks we have a town hall meeting with the owners of our company, in front of the paint booth. It has become a slightly dreaded event due to the lay-offs that seem to happen hours before the scheduled meeting, and then what is imminently relayed to us during the meeting. I appreciate that we are kept informed and I do not believe they, the owners, are hiding information from their employees. But still, these town hall meetings have been pretty stressful.

Today we had an impromptu town hall meeting scheduled. Normally, these have been scheduled a few days in advance or told when our next one will be during a town hall meeting. Today we were told via email, mid-morning. I wasn't even sure if I should leave for lunch. What if I was going to be let go? I actually made a joke about this to Lou, like what if I wasn't there and they couldn't find me, would they still lay me off? I doubt they would just forget, I think they would probably just wait until I got back from lunch.

During today's town hall meeting we were told that we might go to a 24 hour work week for the shop floor. Not me, as my job has expanded to the point I could literally be at work for 24 hours straight and still not able to get it all finished. But salaried people, like myself, could soon be affected. Going forward there will be no sick time or personal pay, no 401k match, no profit sharing, and no more pension contribution. We will now be off the entire week after July 4th, additional day on Memorial weekend, two extra days for Easter, and possible periodic shutdowns. All days off will be either without pay or with remaing vacation pay, we can choose. Our pay structure is also being evaluated and we will be notified in April of the changes that will be made, but there are no more details that can be given regarding our change of pay for performance.

I work in a great, and normally very profitable market, that deals directly with oil, gas, and water. We have a strong international presence but this economy just sucks, everywhere. I know other people are dealing with worse, because at least I still have a job even though my husband doesn't. But the uncertainty of the future weighs heavily on me and fills me with anxiety over what is the best solution or direction for our family. It is during this time that I am so grateful I have a relationship with a God that cares, cares about the smallest little detail, and assurance that he loves me. How depressing would it be to not have someone to cry to, to ask why, to ask how, and to give peace and comfort when I need it.

I thought I would share here where my head has been and what my minisucle part of the world is coping with. This is what I am going through but this is not what I am. However, it is a part of my life and it does have a significant effect on me. When I was scared I went back and read the comments people left on The Nester's blog about how they were dealing with this economy. It made it all seem very doable and it was wonderful to read about other peoples challenges and triumphs. I think this is a prime example of why I love blogs, knowing I am not alone. I need my job but if it goes away it will all be okay....we will all be okay.

Hello. Remember me? Tired of the Boston Butt yet? I have been tired, very tired or as Tony’s ex-wife has on her MySpace page, tried because she is smart like that.

Things have been happening since I posted last. My job has completely changed and now I am busy. Too busy to write a blog post and after being on the computer all day, too tried tired (he married up) to access my laptop. After I get home I haven't got the will power to do anything else while keeping my butt planted on the couch in front of the TV. My lovely husband is making my home life too easy I guess. He has taken care of everything by the time I get home and I have been taking advantage of having a stay-at-home dad. Love it!

The best part about him becoming a SAHD is that my daughter is different. Not so different that I can pinpoint exactly what it is, but different enough that after I put her to bed I realize we haven’t argued the whole night. She has loved being able to come home right after school. Tony says that she won’t walk next to him when he picks her up but he can tell she totally digs not going to daycare anymore. And Tony has loved seeing all the mom cliques when he goes into the school to wait for Anna. Goes into the school!! Is that not awesome or what? Her own mother drops her off on the corner across from the school because I am too lazy to find a parking spot. Dude, I am so lucky it almost negates the powerlessness I feel when dealing with his ex-wife, almost.

My step kids will soon be coming home right after school too. Just as soon as his 30 day notice at the sitter's is up. What a cluster that turned out to be, which could have filled many blog posts, and probably will. They will all be home with their dad for the entire summer. You would think that would make the ex happy but uh, no you would be wrong. Hello, family court. Good times, good times.

One of the biggest changes in our family has been in my extended family, my family from California. We have had a Grapes of Wrath, in reverse, and now two of my cousins, 21 and 24 year old male cousins, are living with us. My uncle is staying with my mother 45 minutes away but in March, when my aunt leaves California, they will both be moving into our house. The boys each have their own rooms; one is in the guest bedroom downstairs, and the other in my sewing room-that never was sewn in-upstairs. I think my aunt and uncle will stay in our living room that we currently use as the kids playroom/Wii area/storage dump/just go put it in the living room, room. We are going to paint it this weekend and I will have to clean the carpet due to all the kids that have eaten in that room.

With all the changes we have not gone out to dinner once, lunch yes but dinner no. Since this was suppose to be a cooking blog I am going to list links to some of the recipes that were in constant rotation around this here boarding house. Personally, I have loved all the changes, all except the divorce saga drama, but that is another post all together. (If I had time, and wasn’t so angry right now, I could really tell a story but I have horrible grammar anyway much less if I was/were to write while pissed off)

The Best Stroganoff Evah

Tri-Tip in the Crockpot

Creamy Chicken and Noodles (kids and cousins LOVED)

The soup that brings 50 hits a day, Taco Soup

Sunday dinner with family has been the traditional Pot Roast with my mashed potatoes that are better than my grandma's or aunt's according to my cousins. Someday I will share my secret.

Simple, easy, no brainer, Crockpot Chicken Burritos

My cousin heard me say I was going to make this and he told Tony that he doesn't think he will like it and is afraid I will get mad but he doesn't like beans and he for sure hasn't ever had a lentil, Moroccan Lentil Soup. Oh, he will eat it because I have found out that if they are hungry enough they will eat anything and man, oh man can they put away some milk.

We had a great New Years Eve Party. We had twelve kids. Are you jealous? It was actually very smooth. At my twentieth high school reunion I reconnected with Sherry, my friend since fourth grade. During the reconnection I found out that she comes back to Oklahoma every year after Christmas. Well hello! We had to get together, with everyone. Well, most of us made it some could not come due to family obligations and just plain old life. But we had a great time.

Tony, took this picture and I was trying a new pose that I read about to be more attractive in photos. Instructions were to pose to the side, chin down, eyes up, shoulders back, and chest out. I think I nailed it. I might not be a model but I tried, and he noticed, wondering out loud, what the hell was that look? But of course there is always the one person that is not ready so in the above photo I cropped her out and I think she would thank me. (love you!)

Here is the second picture taken after my husband asked who I was trying to impress with the first photo. Uh, him of course. Our kids had a great time eating, playing the Wii, playing hida and seek, and generally running through the house. Sherry has four boys and Cheryl has two. My stepson is in heaven when Cheryl's kids come over and our girls think they are Brittany Spears/Hannah Montana/ICarly/Zoey101 when Sherry's boys are around.

I am not a big New Years Resolution person. Mainly because I try to avoid failure not seek it out. But internally I make my own pacts with myself, and those internal pacts...well, I need to re-negotiate. Today was the first real day of my 2009 because since January 1st I have been cocooned in my casa, not in my snuggli-even though Tony says he will divorce me if I bought one, I know he would be all over it. I went back to work today and I proved what I already knew about myself, I have no will power. This is what I did not resolve do do per say but what I thought would be nice and helpful if I could accomplish in 2009.

• Get up early like when my husband gets into the shower so that I could do my devotions. Instead, I turned over onto my stomach and snoozed until he sat down beside me to put on his shoes....Viva 2008!
• Watch what I eat. Oh I did, I watched myself in an almost out of body experience unwrap and eat six, count 'em, six Hershey's Special Dark Chocolate bars. I am all about being retro!
• Dress more professionally-with makeup. Half of me was all about this new resolution. The half that doesn't wear jeans and does wearing glasses with makeup count as trying?
• Give my husband the sexy, provocative woman that he married twenty pounds ago. Is it really my fault that mother nature created a roadblock?
• Stay off the internet while at work. Are you freaking kidding me?? there is no way, I tried until 8:45 and then was all who cares? I never wrote these resolutions down, who was the actual person that thought of resolutions? The internet is what makes my job bearable, so it actually helps my job.

Oh, I have more but then I would be committed and I would hate to be a disappointment. Instead, if in fact I actually do follow through with my resolutions ideas then I will be all about the bragging come December 2009.

Because I am feeling a little onery and they say it is cathartic to write your feelings down I am posting the letter I just spewed out. Because of Anna's six day hospital stay we obviously met our $4000 deductible, so I only have two days to get prescriptions filled for zero co-payment. I started this on Tuesday, December 23rd and as of 2:00pm, today the 30th, I have had no response from my doctor's office. I have had issues before but was too lazy to make a change.

I still can't decide if I should send this or not but wow, it really did feel good to write it. And boy, oh boy, am I long winded. Am I one of those people that tell a story that goes on and on and on? Don't answer that. This is when being a to the point male would come in handy.

************************************************************************************
Dear Dr. Raisinbottom*,

I have been a patient of yours since you were located in Pygmie Physicians Building on Utopia*. Even though I lived in Geriatricville* and then in the Yuppyrainbowville* area I continued to see you when you moved South and then further South. This was because I really liked being under your care. So much so that I referred my friends and colleagues to you and they are now some of your patients. You also became my daughter's pediatrician once we moved to Tulsa.

Maybe this is where the problem lies, you are overbooked. I have had several instances where I was unable to get an appointment with you within a weeks time. I understand requesting an appointment for the same day and not being able to see you and having to see another doctor within your practice. However, two years ago I was released from the Hospital after having chest pains and I was to have a follow up visit with you following my release. The earliest appointment I was able to get was two weeks from the day I called. I informed the receptionist that you were the one to tell me to go to the hospital and not come to your office and that the Drs. at Pygmie* said I needed to see my primary care physician right away. Still no appointment until two weeks later. I tried to be called in case of a cancellation but was told your office doesn't do that.

There have been basic customer service issues with the receptionist at the desk because I signed in on the wrong clipboard, updating again my information after giving the correct information on the previous visit, or when I was overcharged and had to walk the person who could give me a credit through the steps in order to correct the billing. Before your office had the outgoing message regarding contacting my pharmacy for a refill I was completely chastised for calling your office directly. That was a common occurrence because your other patients, that I worked with, had the same issue and were completely taken aback with how rude your office was when requesting a refill.

The lack of customer service and professionalism was something I, and my friends that are now your patients, take in stride because you and Towanda* (her nurse) are wonderful-once we actually get to see you.

Last month, when you were too busy to see my daughter and she ended up being admitted to St. Howmuchisthisgoingtocost* for six days, I switched her to Dr. Newbie* because she seemed to really click with Anna. Now, I am going to look for another primary care physician for myself.

I called on December 23rd requesting Towanda's* voicemail or to call me back regarding my prescriptions and the receptionist said she was Towanda's* screener and that I needed to tell her what prescriptions I needed. Frankly, after dealing with your office staff and knowing several people that work in medical offices I do not feel like talking to anyone about my prescription or medical needs besides you or Towanda*. On Tuesday, the 23rd, she took my message and I received no call back. Monday, December 29th, I called and spoke with Melissa (that is her real name). I explained to her that I had met my deductible of $4000 and needed to get my prescriptions filled before the end of the year. She understood and since I already knew the hoops I had to jump through from my previous call I gave her my prescription requests. No call back and the pharmacy does not have the script. Today, December 30th, I call again and strongly request that someone call me back. Yea, yea okay.

I am so happy that you have a successful practice and I still think you are a wonderful doctor and very thorough. However, since it has become more difficult to deal with your office staff than I am willing to wade through, I am going to look for another doctor. In most situations I would not take the time to explain why since it is my choice and my money but I wanted you to know it was not YOU but your practice that I do not want to deal with. I will always remember how caring and kind you, your nurses, and the lab were when I returned from Asia so sick I thought I would never get better. Thank you.
*************************************************************************************

*names and places changed for the hell of it

I think I will sleep on it, pare it down, and send it. Now to search for a new doctor..........

The Christmas presents are all wrapped, but this morning I am dying because I had no idea that one bottle of wine would disappear so quickly. I have been sitting at my desk counting down the moments to when McDonald's starts serving lunch. I need a Big Mac combo meal, I must have it. But then I get a 10:30am meeting reminder for THE Meeting that has been scheduled and re-scheduled since early November.

10:30 to 12! I don't think I am going to make it.

I just have to make it until 5. I can do this. I am trying to conjure up my twenty-six year old self that had no problems going to work after a night out. She is not responding.

We are celebrating Christmas tonight with my dad and his wife. The bill will be about $30 less because Tony and I will be drowning ourselves in water, just water.

But hey! the presents are wrapped.

First thing first, my daughter's finger is much much better. And her mother is a complete loser for not writing an update sooner. I would like to have a great excuse but I just don't and thank you so much for caring and sending emails asking because it broke through my funk.

Anna's finger was diagnosed with osteomyelitis and she is still on IV antibiotics through her central line. I have been continuing to flush with saline and heparin to help keep the line clear so that they can draw blood for her labs without having to stick her. This has seemed to work.

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving she was switched to Rocephin once a day instead of Vancomycin twice a day. This was very nice considering we left that night for Illinois.

We spent Thanksgiving in the small farm town, Gardener, just outside of Joliet. My husband's parents are from there and the majority of both sides still live there.

There was no drama which was not what I expected. See, my husband's mother, Lynn, died while he was in college and his father remarried about seven years later. His new wife would love to be my husband's new mom but considering all the kids were grown when they married that just was not necessary; and not likely to happen anyway.

Long story short. His dad's wife invited herself to, get this, Lynn's (my husband's mom) brother's house for Thanksgiving. She also invited my husband's stepsisters and their families. But when about our family, my husband's aunt and uncle were told that we would not be able to come since we go to Texas for Thanksgiving. Uh, no we don't, we went to his dad's and stepmom's last Thanksgiving. This obvious exclusion and complete intrusion fired my husband up and he made sure we were all going to be there. Oh man!! did that start a huge, and I mean huge, fight.

Anyway, we all went, even my stepkids got to go. And my mother-in-law? Well she and her family had to stay at my father-in-law's mother's house-it just had one bathroom. Oh yea! good times.

There is more and yet there is less. Anxiety is running high in my family right now. But I will write about that later after I get a grasp on my own emotions and lack there of.

But bottomline, my daughter, she is GREAT! and her finger looks a thousand times better. And her mother? well her mother wants to thank you for all the emails and the comments and I am sorry I was too overwhelmed to update after spewing all the ugly and then not relaying the positive. Thank you so much for caring!

There are so many subjects that I feel strongly about. When I was younger, the friends I had and the people I worked with would receive an earful not knowing they were the audience surrounding my soapbox. However with age came maturity, acceptance, and the ability to keep my mouth shut. Then I became a mother and my soapbox has been dusted off. Since then I have taken a few stances and broached a few subjects that has guaranteed me never winning a Miss Congeniality title. In fact, just this summer I lost a friend, someone I had know since 7th grade, because I decided to confront an issue instead of just saying oh well, that's just how she is. I had no idea at the time that expressing my opinion and hurt would effectively kill a 25 year old friendship. But it did teach me, albeit painfully, where I stood as her friend.

But does it seem like every four years your personal values, the values you teach and show your children , the same values you wish others had are tested? I find that I am defending my own beliefs and values and not just with others but to myself. And if I express the beliefs I have and the values that I hold important I must support them with facts, not just paraphrases, not just ideals and common sense, but with hardcore facts. Am I the only one that does this or feels like this?

Yes, it is true the best way to not have to defend your beliefs or values is to refrain from talking about religion or politics. But every four years I am captivated by the spin, the prospect of a new leader, the anticipation of victory or defeat. Plus, I have some very intelligent friends with some very distinct values and beliefs that are similar in some areas but polar opposite in others. Debating the issues of the day or a live debate becomes something worthy of discussion and not something to suppress.

I am learning to listen and I am open to the idea I could be wrong, presenting the facts, just the facts, without a viewpoint can help firm up or shape what I believe and stand for. And I appreciate that here in America we have the right to these discussions that can at times be heated and disappointing. We also have the right, if not the duty, to research each others viewpoints and how they reached that conclusion. We can then discuss, or argue, what we have heard or read without fearing imprisonment or retribution. Researching and learning both viewpoints while constantly checking the facts against your own beliefs should not be compromised.

The facts are out there, they just have to be unearthed and then separated from the talking points. Compromise is important for building and maintaining relationships but so is integrity. And sometime having integrity will mean standing up for an unpopular viewpoint, it can mean leaving an organization that no longer has the same values you hold dear, and sometimes it can mean a loss of a friendship. (or in some cases deleting a blog from your google reader)

But if anyone is learning to compromise it is me. The mother to my step kids and therefore the ex-wife of my husband is coming over for cake and ice-cream to celebrate their daughter's 10th birthday. This will be the first time she and I have been in the same room outside of a courtroom. You know what is bringing us together? Our values and our belief that all children should be treated fairly and that children are more important than ourselves.

We might not have spent $442,000 on a spa weekend but we did see a booth that had spas.

And some lovely couples looking at spas. That grey haired person is a man and yes, he is wear shorts over leggings!

We even saw some seals. I bet those AIG executives didn't have the nature show I did while they were having massages and facials at St. Regis Hotel in Dana Point. Nothing is more relaxing then communing with nature.

I even spotted some Okies in their native dress.

But this is how other Okies dress and for just under $100 we celebrated the Bailout in style at the Tulsa State Fair. None of us took out a sub-prime loan to buy our houses. In fact, all of budget our money and practice self control for things we can't afford. But hey, we celebrated paying more taxes for us anyway!

Mostly because instead of riding one single ride, we spent most of our evening in the Beer Garden.

During an excursion into the midway looking for a bathroom and the monkeys that take your change, we played a friendly little game of skeet ball.

Where Sonja won a Husky! Thank goodness because her husband, much like the AIG execs, recklessly spent his cash by paying off an 8 year old so that all of us could play together and so it could be one of us that would win.

But having the ability to frivolously spend $100 for a chance to win a stuffed animal, get a free t-shirt, and consume copious amounts of crap on a stick? That my friend eased the pain of being royally screwed by our government.

I was positive I was going to never have my baby. I had missed my due date by almost two weeks and my co-workers were taking bets behind my back on when I would deliver. When I found out one of them had bet on the 28th day, I thought I would literally be the first woman to die from the sheer agony of carrying a baby for 42 weeks. A little melodramatic, I know, but I was desperate, and a tad hormonal.

On the 19th, I had tried to induce myself into labor by drinking 3 ounces of castor oil mixed into a Braums milkshake. I have not had a milkshake since. And let's just say, one week later, still no enema was needed. Which is also not surprising since my acid reflux was so bad I could eat nothing, and yet, I would still spontaneously puke egg yolk. I won't even go into being nine months pregnant in August, in Oklahoma. Total strangers would come up to me and say oh honey, I am so sorry.

Have I been able to convey how miserable I was? I had even tried attaching my electric breast pump to the only thing fabulous about my pregnancy, my large breasts (I would love to have those babies back because they were, SPECTACULAR). Instead of starting contractions as it did for my high school friend's sister, Julie, (who ended up having an emergency c-section that we all secretly thought was due to messing around with the breast pump) I was only able to get a jump start on my colostrum. And the humiliating and awkward crab/squatting tribal woman walk? nothing, but I was so hopeful. I remember crawling around my living room during an entire episode of Oprah.

But when the time to deliver actually did arrive? Whoa mama! I woke up at 1:30am with a pain that went around the front of my stomach and felt like I was tying a knot at my spine. I thought oh wow, this really is it. Five minutes later I was laughing that I had even confused Braxton-Hicks for labor contractions. I woke my mom up who told me to get into the shower. She woke up my dad, and after driving me three times to the hospital just to drive me back a few hours later, went back to sleep. I remember taking my shower and thinking how pathetically huge I had gotten that I couldn't even control my bladder. I started crying and when my mom asked, in a panicked voice, what was wrong, I cried that I could not stop peeing on myself.

By the time we got to the hospital, only a couple of miles away, I was having contractions about every two minutes. I think my mom was a little freaked out and my dad could not understand why I insisted on crawling, on my hands and knees, to the hospital doors. (you know what I just thought? why didn't he drop me off at the door?) Anyway, after stopping every minute to rock back and forth while moaning on my hands and knees, I was now in a labor and delivery room.

My friend, and constant support even during my hormonal rages, LouAnn, had told me to opt out of painkillers before my epidural. She had told me that it would just make me feel out of it. So when the nurse said I needed to take some Demerol because they needed to slow down my contractions, I tried to say no; but no matter how much Lamaze breathing I did, I could not get on top of them. The nurse went ahead and gave me the Demerol and then told me that I would have to wait almost four more hours for my epidural because the doctor didn't come in until 6 am. I didn't really care. I was more focused on the fact that it felt like I had a gigantic wooden corkscrew, like the kind they used to use to raise and lower orchestra pits in a theatre, being turned every few minutes and consequently spreading my hip bones apart.

After the Demerol kicked in I no longer cared about the pain, I still felt it but I had calmed down. I panted and focused while my mom rubbed my back. After a series of particularly hard contractions, I told my mom that this was just like having an orgasm, but not quite being able to get there. She pretended to not hear me, and I will always thank her for that.

Then came the checking and the rechecking. Apparently, my baby was facing the inside of my leg. I had so many different people checking me that I just hoped they all actually worked at the hospital. There was one petite nurse, I really liked her, when she would check me I would have dilated to a seven and then an eight. However, when my big burly man doctor checked me he pushed it back down to a six.

Finally, after nine months of hell, and as my mom so clearly remembers, two remaining months of depression and misery, my beautiful baby girl was born, at exactly 9:30 A.M. on September 26th of 2000. I remember my mom and I both looking at her and then at each other. My mom said it first, oh my goodness, she looks just like Mark (my soon to be ex-husband). But from that moment on all of my worries, all of my hang ups about being a single mom, and most importantly, my anger disappeared. She was absolutely perfect and she was ALL mine. I am still amazed that this was eight years ago, it really does seem like it just happened. Happy Birthday baby girl!

*A side note regarding having a baby in the small town you grew up in:

Go through your yearbook and familiarize yourself with the people and faces. You never know who your nurse will be that will help you to the toilet, kneel down in front of you to look at your stitches in order to tell you how to perform a sitz bath. Because as my recovery nurse was kneeling in front of me and squirting water on my stitched up waa-waa, I was reintroduce to Julie Laramore, from junior high. They should have a sign at the entrance of the maternity ward, "Check all modesty and pride at the door".

I love September weather, not too hot and not too cold. Too bad I can't really enjoy it. Every year since I have moved back to NE Oklahoma September brings on the ants. No, not ants in my house-they would be much more welcome-but the feeling of ants crawling around my sinus, eyes, and throat. I am severely allergic to Ragweed and this flower from Satan blooms abundantly at the end of summer. Each year I get a prescription that helps immensely, once I even had to get a shot because I had waited too long and was a convulsing, snot laden, sneezing, wheezing, crying, and writhing madman and the ants, they needed to stop, stop immediately!

I am able to remember when my mother's friend died because just walking from the car to the chapel made me sneeze uncontrollably. And I was 9 months pregnant! Nothing is better than a sniveling, writhing, pregnant lady trying to sneeze without expelling her unborn infant. On that note; Sudafed does not work! It is a useless placebo, like the white pills in birth control. Once Anna was born I begged for Allegra and Prilosec; finally, real drugs for sneezing and acid reflux.

Then there were those first three years after Anna was born where I didn't have insurance because I needed every single penny my paycheck was written out for. (Anna had insurance, Blue Cross Blue Shield, $57 per month paid by ME, not a Universal Health Care plan -- Oops! wrong post) During the years of no insurance I made use of my trips to Mexico and Central America. There, I was able to buy prescription strength Allegra and mommy's little helper Tafil, or as it is known in America, Xanax, without a prescription or shelling out for a doctors visit.

Since experiencing September 2000's blooming of Ragweed while nine months pregnant, I have always tried to be prepared for September. It would just be frustrating to be required to have an in office Doctor visit just to get an allergy prescription. One lovely time, while I waited until my appointment day, I even mowed my lawn with a mask on. Oh yea baby! I was lookin' H-O-T! By the way, the mask didn't really help, my t-shirt was covered in snot and I had completely wet my pants. Yes, I wet my pants. Because you see not only do I feel like my skin is alive and itching but since I have had my daughter I can no longer sneeze and walk at the same time.

This Saturday jump started my allergies. While standing in our driveway talking to a neighbor I was stricken. After crossing my legs and sneezing for the 100th time I ran up the driveway into the house yelling over my shoulder that I would talk to her later but I just can't take it anymore. I would marry my bottle of Flo-Nase, if I wasn't already married.

See all those spindles? All 48 of them? We painted each and every one of them. By hand. And guess what?! We get to do that again, two more times! That is just the primer. I think it looks fine, what do you think?



This is what our house looked like late afternoon on the 17th. I could get a real sense of the color combination and was anxious to have all the brown painted white the next Saturday.

Well, that Saturday came and went and the brown is still there, but I don't care (well just a little) because they were able to finish the south side of the house that had extensive damage and needed a lot of TLC. They were, however, able to prime my front door. I painted the first coat of red on it last night, just two more coats to go and then it will get a black glaze finish. See the brackets? We ordered them last year and my husband put them up. We will finish the spindles and put up the second story railing this week. Then we will start on the black shutters. They get three coats of paint too.

Oh! and if you are wondering about my toe. It no longer hurts. Now it just completely grosses me out.

That is not polish. How in the world am I going to cut it? Oh man it makes me cringe just thinking about it. Blech!

I am trying, seriously, I really am trying to not get caught up in the whole Super Mommy Wars that goes on in elementary school. But I am a dweller, a big time dweller. What breed of dog is it that never lets go of its prey? Mastif? Rott? Well whatever, I fixate and don't let go until I have talked my way through it and tortured all of my friends who let me into their dimly lit offices or answered my calls even when they see my number on caller ID. (you know who you are, and I apologize, but too much medication will effect my job performance, sorry)

Anyway, I am still reading The White Trash Mom Handbook, which I would highly recommend you buy unless you are one of the Muffia, and then I think someone should have the nerve to highlight passages and slip it under your windshield wiper while you are propositioning schmoozing the principal.

My previous post,where I threw myself my own pity party, and unknowingly joined the fray of the Mommy Wars because I expressed my jealousy for SAHMs, was written on the fly. At the time I just had this feeling that I was not measuring up and that I was letting my daughter down. This was coming from all the regret I had for working so much when she was younger and not being around. Now that I am no longer going to China six times a year I want to be as active as I can in her life, but I still keep my job. That is why yesterday was so painful for me, maybe. Do I wear that guilt and jealousy on my shoulder? Does my attitude exude contempt for all forms of social climbing? I am not sure, but there is something, definitely something, that makes it difficult for me to join in with the other moms at my daughter's school.

Yesterday was horrible, and yes I am dwelling, and since my husband has turned an unsympathetic ear, and he is the only person I can hold captive to hear me out, I am blogging about it. My other 'go to people' have either heard me out and have moved on with their lives, or they didn't answer their phone when I called yesterday. I felt just like I did at my sixth grade graduation dance. The same dance that I go a new "do" for. A "do" that required a perm that made me look just like a blonde Orphan Annie. An orphan with Battlestar Galactica glasses wearing a kick-ass Espirit sailor top with parachute pants and matching Keds. I spent that night watching all my friends get asked to dance and tried to pretend that I didn't care.

I was the wall flower at the dance at a meet and greet for kids and their parents. My daughter begged and pleaded with me to take her to a local cafe where all the school kids got free cookies and milk and the parents got to know one another. I told Anna I was not sure if I would be able to I would just have to look at my schedule. She wanted me to call my boss at home and ask if I could. Obviously this was important to her. One of her BFFs parents own the cafe so this made it even more important to her. So, I surprised Anna by being outside her classroom when the dismissal bell rang.

Without going into all the details, we went to the bakery and Anna saw all of her friends. I said hello or waved to some of the mothers I recognized. They were all grouped up in little huddles. Anna wanted to go sit with her friends but she didn't want me to be alone. I was completely self conscious that I had no one to talk to and tried to keep my self busy by getting a drink, walking up to the display case, and texting. But I hated being there!

This has happened before when I have gone to her school events, the dances, the field trips, the class parties, and their kid's birthday parties. It is just awkward as hell for me. Why? I am super extroverted, Type A all the way. I try and channel my sister, the one who is such an elitist she has never let her kids play in a McDonalds play yard (not that I blame her but COME ON!). But I have no idea what she would do, this whole thing comes natural to her. She thrives on social status and jockeying for position.

I am at a loss and I felt like a loser yesterday. My husband just laughs and tells me that is what I get for having my daughter in that school because that is what that school is known for. My boss is all what do you expect when 90% of the mothers don't work and they all grew up with each other. I guess I didn't realize how tough it would be. On me! Not my daughter, she loves it and she has friends and they all seem to like her too. But her mom? Not so much. So I will keep reading my White Trash Handbook and keep my chin up because I'm Good Enough, I'm Smart Enough, and Doggone It, People Like Me!

I regularly read a blog Joy Unexpected by Yvonne. I forget how I found her blog, probably from a blogroll somewhere. I read her post that was a letter to her body, it was amazing. Then I started poking around and read that she was brought up similar to me in regards to religion and God. I think her family might have been a bit more extreme but not by much.

She is going through a pretty rough patch and is exploring her interest and her lack of interest in having a relationship with God. When I read her entries I can completely understand where she is coming from; and if had written a blog in my early twenties I would have written many of the same insights and feelings.

Today she writes about her recent struggles and how she is trying to give God a chance but finds it difficult to shake the memories and indoctrinating of her childhood.

Since I rarely talk about my own personal faith because in no way do I want the exposure to be known as a failure or hypocrite I thought I would paste what I wrote in her comments here.

My Comment to Yvonne:
I grew up with "Like a thief in the night" and still believe it will be like that, but I am no longer scared because I now have a desire to know God and I have assurance that I am saved. The scariest part of growing up in a strict Bible Thumping family and church was thinking I could lose my salvation. That was the crux of my hang ups. For example: If I willfully said G-d Damn would that be the unforgivable sin? And yet even with that fear I just didn't care and tried to work it into every conversation. I wanted to live my life and all this religion was holding me back.

I went to one of the most strict Christian Fundamental University in the US, Bob Jones. I also graduated from Bob Jones Academy. There was a time I woke up from a nap and it seemed like no one was on my dorm floor. I completely panicked that the rapture had taken place and I was left. I was quietly crying while walking down the hall looking for someone, someone else that was left.

What I find so incredibly sad is that there is a whole generation rejecting God's love and grace because of the fear and legalism our parents shoved down our throats. Will the parents and pastors be held responsible for their children's rejection of God? I don't know, but I sure hope that I am able to show God's amazing Grace to my daughter, family, and friends.

At my lowest point I looked up a Stephen's Ministry in my area. It saved my life, literally, because death felt like the only option. I hope that whatever it is you choose to help you through this rough time it will reveal the love that God has, not His wrath. I wasted a lot of years doing it my way, and believe me, my way had to have been the hardest way.

On a side note of fear and how I still can't shake my legalistic upbringing. Because God had to complete break me by leaving me with nothing but faith, I can't help but think that if I turn away from God again to do my own thing he will use the death my daughter to bring me back to Him. How messed up is that?

I bought White Trash Mom, the Handbook this weekend. I think I am going to love this book. My real hope is that it will crush my expectations and bring me back to reality. My reality. The reality that I, being the major breadwinner in our family, must work.

Here is the list of things that I simply cannot do without the threat of losing my job, my mind, and the minisucle amount of time before bed I get to spend with my daughter. These are the things I seem the other mothers doing, in designer sweats.

• Walking her to her classroom every morning. Instead I drop her off on the corner and make sure she waits for the safety lady to give her the go ahead to cross. If we are early I can take her to her daycare and she can ride the van to school, even more "special".
• Picking her up from school and being the first person she tells her day to.
• Volunteering to help the teacher.
• Volunteering
• Serving on a committee. All the meetings are either in the morning or right after school.
• Picking my daughter up from an after school activity. (Due to what amounted to begging, she will be a girl scout this year because I got permission to block out the last hour an half of one day per week to go an pick her up)
• Serve or prepare a dish for the Teacher Appreciation Monthly Luncheons.
• Eat lunch with my daughter in her lunch room.
• Take my daughter to Back to School Swim night-night being from 4-6.
• Chaperone more than one of her field trips per year. (She was the only, and how is that even possible???, kid that was not taken home from the kindergarten Zoo field trip)

I am sure there are more, and possibly even less because right now I am having my own little pity party.

I always thought that the struggle with coveting would be about material things: cars, houses, clothes, and stuff. This year it seems even harder for me to take Anna to school and see all these other moms casually talking to one another in various stages of dress, ready to go to the gym or home to finish the breakfast dishes. I never knew that I would struggle so hard to be understanding when I hear stay-at-home moms say they just don't have time to get something done. This is such a myopic view, I know, but some days it just really gets to me.

Rant over. Besides, if I had to choose to be at home with a nursing baby and a two year old I would take every bit of what I wrote above back. But once all the kids are in school or Mother's Day Out? well that is what I am comparing myself to. See, totally myopic.

Initially, I was more concerned about my bedroom carpet yelling, GET A WASHCLOTH!! THERE IS BLOOD!! My husband was all, WTH?? what is happening? But then the realization hit me of what had happened and the floodgates were opened. I was crying like a baby and frantically yelling to get a WARM washcloth, not THAT ONE, THE WET WARM ONE I JUST USED ON MY FACE!!! Oh My GOD, I AM DYING!! I was crying harder than my husband has ever been a witness to. He actually thinks I never cry. Well I proved him wrong-see I do have feelings!

I am assuming my toenail lifted completely off of the nail bed and slammed back down again, in less than 1 second. The reason I have no idea what exactly happened to cause such a injury that hurt-still hurts-worse than labor is because I was in complete shock that blood was dripping off the end of my big toe. What just happened?

Before I broke down in a howling heap, holding my foot with the required washcloth and trying not to throw up, we had been joking around about where I had put the Dean Koontz book. I was sure I had put it on his nightstand, he couldn't find it, so I said maybe downstairs, and since he completely hates it when I change my mind I said, or maybe right there in your nightstand. At that point he slid, that's right slid, not hard, not fast, no bounce, just slid a small paperback novel across the carpet and it came in contact with my toe. It must have hit just right because it immediately ripped my toenail up. What are the chances? 1 in 99,999,999,999,999? I am no statistician, but those have to be some pretty good odds.

That is why when I went to the Doctor on Tuesday because the pain was excruciating and though it was no longer bleeding it was 'seeping' (how disgusting right?) , I told her Yes. Yes, even with his vasectomy there actually might be a chance I am pregnant.

I wouldn't let the doctor touch my foot. I started crying before she even made a move to touch it. I told her I would rather they go ahead and amputate my toe so no one has to touch my nail. There is nothing that can be done but just wait for a new nail to grow and push this one out. She mentioned that it will fall off on its own or get RIPPED off on accident. I passed out with that statement.

She gave me an antibiotic and I have to soak it twice a day. I just thank GOD it was in the summer because no-way-in-hell am I putting a shoe on. Okay, I'm back, passed out again.

Last night, while lying in bed, I solved some of the world's problems. It really was a productive night. I re-enacted my day correcting all my conversations I had to be more witty. I went through entire scenarios of what I would say and then what they would say and then what I would say and then what they would say.... it would go on and on. Most of the time the conversation would play out that I, being extremely succinct, witty, and thought provoking, left the other party admitting that I am so right, how could they not see it?

I did this for about four hours last night. When I couldn't take the constant replay I gave in and took my lovely Xanax.

But before the pill took effect I was rockin' and rollin'. I had about ten blog posts written, the "kidnapping" of Casey Anthony in Florida solved, my mother-in-law put in her place, created a new position for me within my company, what McCain should say to Obama, what I want to say to the people making me change my light bulbs to those ugly fluorescent things, and a way for me to work from home and still keep my job.

I can solve it all. I just need a few more nights of insomnia and I can figure out a way to keep my old incandescent light bulbs and still look like I believe changing bulbs will keep the earth from burning.

My Daughter is seven. Seven. She has been working to master the art of hair brushing, pony-tails, teeth brushing, using soap not just water when showering, just the basic hygiene and grooming skills. Our deal is once she is able to take care the basics, without nagging prompting and help from me, but especially without nagging prompting, she can then get her ears pierced. No age requirement for this rite of passage, just independence and responsibility.

Most days she does a pretty darn good job of pulling her hair back and brushing her teeth. She sometimes skips a step in the process, like forgetting to brush her hair before pulling it back, or forgetting to actually brush her teeth once she puts the toothpaste on the toothbrush.

Last weekend I figured out how to motivate her toward good hygiene and independence.


Sunday, before Sherry and her family of four boys came over, Anna had hastily pulled her hair back in a pony-tail and added a headband to catch all the stray hairs that failed to make it into the rubber band. She looked like she had just rolled out of bed but I did not nag say a word.

Within fifteen minutes of meeting Jensen, Walker, Hunter, and Dawson, Anna went back upstairs. The next time I saw her my heart skipped a beat and I started to panic that I was going to be raising one of "those girls", the too young to be boy crazy, girls.

Her naturally curly hair had been brushed as straight as she could make it. Her dress-up makeup had been applied to her eyelids and cheeks, her face was as reflective as a disco ball with all the glitter. Her lips were protected from drying out and cracking due to the careful application of Hello Kitty sparkle lip gloss. She was a picture of beauty and perfectly made up to be a light reflector for a late night bike ride. But I don't think bike safety was on her mind.

Did I mention she was seven.....