I know, I know...SO MANY of you are waiting to hear about the herbal colon cleanse I purchased weeks ago. It is called Oxypowder and it has done everything that it has promised.
Let me use this disclaimer: In order to endure a colon cleanse, you must be the type of person obsessed about what goes in your mouth and what comes out the other end. This means that you must be nuttier than a health nut. This means that the words "fasting" and "colonic" do not make you twist your face up and scoff.
(To my dear friend who is rolling his eyes right now: Yes, that used to be me. Yes, you were right about everything. Yes, if only I had listened to you 10 years ago I would not have had to see 10 years of impacted colon stuff in the toilet).
So what can I say without disgusting all of you?
I love Oxypowder:
Goodbye last few baby pounds!
Goodbye acne!
Goodbye constipation!
Goodbye bloating!
Goodbye self-respect!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Getting Over Myself: Why I Blog
I am only a blogger of a couple of months. When I learned about blogging and people who blogged a year ago (I am slow, I know), I thought that it was probably a bunch of people who were self-absorbed enough to think that their opinion spewed over the Internet was worth our time.
Oh, precious time that gets SUCKED away by these glowy boxes that make us believe that the world is in there, somewhere.
When I started working from home and taking care of my infant daughter, that cavernous feeling of isolation took up residence in my chest. All mothers experience this. Not to mention the endless uneasiness.
Suddenly, every time you go out in public you feel the following things at the same time: you are not smart enough because you stay at home, your kid is not wearing the right shoes, does not have enough teeth for her age, isn't saying any words yet?
You also start to notice those moments when you catch yourself laughing at cookie monster eating the letter of the day AGAIN, while your toddler no longer finds this funny and has moved on to something else...like browsing the pages of National Geographic.
Motherhood is humbling.
The only solace that I have found for my never-ending spin cycle of thoughts such as am I doing this right?, Is getting kicked in the face during diaper changes normal?, can postpartum depression start at age 1?, am I ever going to calm down? is through the blogs of other mothers.
Blogs lead to blogs which lead to blogs, and I am finding out that I am loving the thoughts of so many people out there. Mothers, non-mothers, my writer friends, people struggling with fertility, people who are doctors...it is like going to a library, which holds endless information that continuously gets updated, without having to feel guilty for your overdue fines. But this is not just information, we are a community of people looking for just that...a community and answers and solace and sanity.
So this is how it started: I was writing a report for work and I got a little under confident about how to express the term et al. or et al., or Et Al., or whatever. I never learned how, but in googling it, I came across the blog of Dorcasina, which led me to the blog of Snickollet. After I cried about what they wrote and how they amazingly they wrote for about two weeks, I was able to wipe away the tears and snot and get over myself about the "bloggers are self-absorbed" thing.
As a person, I don't have much to say, but I like to practice writing and speaking to people who don't eat sand as a favorite pasttime. I don't even have the guts like many of my favorite bloggers to mention my daughter's or husband's name or to show photos. (It can be a scary world inside this glowy box.)
I am just a simple girl who has been blessed/cursed with a hyperawareness of the world around me. That is where the Everythingness comes in. Sometimes I see or hear something that fills me to the brim with so much joy or sadness that I just can't hold it anymore, so I let it spill over.
Here.
Oh, precious time that gets SUCKED away by these glowy boxes that make us believe that the world is in there, somewhere.
When I started working from home and taking care of my infant daughter, that cavernous feeling of isolation took up residence in my chest. All mothers experience this. Not to mention the endless uneasiness.
Suddenly, every time you go out in public you feel the following things at the same time: you are not smart enough because you stay at home, your kid is not wearing the right shoes, does not have enough teeth for her age, isn't saying any words yet?
You also start to notice those moments when you catch yourself laughing at cookie monster eating the letter of the day AGAIN, while your toddler no longer finds this funny and has moved on to something else...like browsing the pages of National Geographic.
Motherhood is humbling.
The only solace that I have found for my never-ending spin cycle of thoughts such as am I doing this right?, Is getting kicked in the face during diaper changes normal?, can postpartum depression start at age 1?, am I ever going to calm down? is through the blogs of other mothers.
Blogs lead to blogs which lead to blogs, and I am finding out that I am loving the thoughts of so many people out there. Mothers, non-mothers, my writer friends, people struggling with fertility, people who are doctors...it is like going to a library, which holds endless information that continuously gets updated, without having to feel guilty for your overdue fines. But this is not just information, we are a community of people looking for just that...a community and answers and solace and sanity.
So this is how it started: I was writing a report for work and I got a little under confident about how to express the term et al. or et al., or Et Al., or whatever. I never learned how, but in googling it, I came across the blog of Dorcasina, which led me to the blog of Snickollet. After I cried about what they wrote and how they amazingly they wrote for about two weeks, I was able to wipe away the tears and snot and get over myself about the "bloggers are self-absorbed" thing.
As a person, I don't have much to say, but I like to practice writing and speaking to people who don't eat sand as a favorite pasttime. I don't even have the guts like many of my favorite bloggers to mention my daughter's or husband's name or to show photos. (It can be a scary world inside this glowy box.)
I am just a simple girl who has been blessed/cursed with a hyperawareness of the world around me. That is where the Everythingness comes in. Sometimes I see or hear something that fills me to the brim with so much joy or sadness that I just can't hold it anymore, so I let it spill over.
Here.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
For my 15-month-old
Fifteen months today already!
Actually, this is going to be less about you and more about the people that you have as parents.
You have probably realized that we have fallen head-over-heals for you. Yeah, you definitely know how to work this by now. I was explaining to your father that it has taken me all of these 15 months to get to know you and to feel comfortable with being your mother. A mother, I suppose. Before that, I was always thinking, "Who is this child that is waking me in the middle of the night?" or "There is this kid in the back seat of my car who now has to accompany me into every store, gas station, bank and restroom?"
Now we are a pair, and if I am somewhere without you, yes, I do feel free and relieved. But it fades into that dull ache right between my neck and stomach when I realize that we have been apart for more than 30 seconds.
The love that a parent feels for a child is a blessing, but it is almost not fair as well. We are stuck with it, and I can't help but wonder what that dull ache will become when you go away at age 18. You are going to go away at age 18, right?
You also probably know that you have your father completely wrapped around your finger. I am second now in his book, this is for sure. You have his sense of humor and I notice that you look to him for all of the real fun, like pillow fights and giggly throws in the air. You look to me to fill your needs, if I am around. This is okay, I am happy to fill those needs, but you really didn't need to say "Da Da?" when I shuffled into your room at 6 am yesterday to get you out of bed. It felt good to reply loudly, "Yeah right! That will be the day! You can ask for Da Da when he lets me stay THERE with a cup of coffee at 6 am," as I stood at our bedroom door and pointed to the large lump in the bed.
I also know that you have caught onto the fact that you are our first child, our parental experiment. We are trying not to mess you up too badly with this one, but you also have to start learning to trust us. For the most part, we do know what is best for you. For example, the fact that we installed a baby gate at the bottom of the stairs does not mean your little universe is imploding. It simply means that we are too lazy to mop up a baby at the foot of our hardwood stairs.
I love your new words...papa (my father), bird, flower, hello, and the way you say ball by forming your mouth into a big O. Now I have one request for my official 15-month-old who I have been ignoring for the last 20 minutes by turning down the baby monitor: when I walk into your dim room and find you all tiny and rolly polly and happy to see me, could you look up and say "mama?"
Actually, this is going to be less about you and more about the people that you have as parents.
You have probably realized that we have fallen head-over-heals for you. Yeah, you definitely know how to work this by now. I was explaining to your father that it has taken me all of these 15 months to get to know you and to feel comfortable with being your mother. A mother, I suppose. Before that, I was always thinking, "Who is this child that is waking me in the middle of the night?" or "There is this kid in the back seat of my car who now has to accompany me into every store, gas station, bank and restroom?"
Now we are a pair, and if I am somewhere without you, yes, I do feel free and relieved. But it fades into that dull ache right between my neck and stomach when I realize that we have been apart for more than 30 seconds.
The love that a parent feels for a child is a blessing, but it is almost not fair as well. We are stuck with it, and I can't help but wonder what that dull ache will become when you go away at age 18. You are going to go away at age 18, right?
You also probably know that you have your father completely wrapped around your finger. I am second now in his book, this is for sure. You have his sense of humor and I notice that you look to him for all of the real fun, like pillow fights and giggly throws in the air. You look to me to fill your needs, if I am around. This is okay, I am happy to fill those needs, but you really didn't need to say "Da Da?" when I shuffled into your room at 6 am yesterday to get you out of bed. It felt good to reply loudly, "Yeah right! That will be the day! You can ask for Da Da when he lets me stay THERE with a cup of coffee at 6 am," as I stood at our bedroom door and pointed to the large lump in the bed.
I also know that you have caught onto the fact that you are our first child, our parental experiment. We are trying not to mess you up too badly with this one, but you also have to start learning to trust us. For the most part, we do know what is best for you. For example, the fact that we installed a baby gate at the bottom of the stairs does not mean your little universe is imploding. It simply means that we are too lazy to mop up a baby at the foot of our hardwood stairs.
I love your new words...papa (my father), bird, flower, hello, and the way you say ball by forming your mouth into a big O. Now I have one request for my official 15-month-old who I have been ignoring for the last 20 minutes by turning down the baby monitor: when I walk into your dim room and find you all tiny and rolly polly and happy to see me, could you look up and say "mama?"
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Everything by Alanis Morissette
To my husband,
Happy Anniversary, yesterday. We spent the day cleaning for the babysitter, otherwise I would have written this yesterday. This song always reminds me of why I am married to you.
I can be an asshole of the grandest kind
I can withhold like it's going out of style
I can be the moodiest baby and you've never met anyone
Who is as negative as I am sometimes
I know I don't have to convince you of this one. Have you ever met anyone bitchier than me at times? I can say such cutting things, can't I? I like to think that it is because I am good with words, but that is not true. I just know you and know what hurts you most. How do you live with my negativity?
I am the wisest woman you've ever met.
I am the kindest soul with whom you've connected.
I have the bravest heart that you've ever seen
And you've never met anyone
Who's as positive as I am sometimes.
You once told me that you take care of me because it is my calling to take care of the world. This is when it really hit me that you KNEW me for the person that I so want to be. Thank you for weeding through the ugly stuff that I mentioned above and finding me...humble and hopeful enough to live a life of service.
You see everything, you see every part
You see all my light and you love my dark
You dig everything of which I'm ashamed
There's not anything to which you can't relate
And you're still here
I blame everyone else, not my own partaking
My passive-aggressiveness can be devastating
This is where the song diverges. You are always trying to convince me to not feel so guilty, so responsible for the way that other people feel. I am always blaming myself, and you are always there to shoo it away.
Back to the song, I promise I will become less passive-aggressive when I grow up. The thing is...sometimes it is just so damn fun to be that way. I wish I didn't direct it at you so often. For example, when you are on your computer games, I say, "Can you help with the baby or are you SUPER busy right now?" That one is my favorite. I think I will continue to use it for now.
I'm terrified and mistrusting
And you've never met anyone as,
As closed down as I am sometimes.
It is true, it sometimes takes time for me to come clean with how I am feeling. I often do it in the weirdest ways don't I? For example, you could be cooking breakfast (oh yes, thank God you are the family cook) and I will come to you a blubbering mess about something that has been stewing inside of me for months. My timing stinks. You always stop dead in your tracks (and feed me eggs) and listen, though. The thing is, you accept everything that I have to say.
What I resist, persists, and speaks louder than I know
What I resist, you love, no matter how low or high I go
There are so many things that you have watched me go through that we have both not been proud of. You wait patiently for me to come to you for help, and there you are, with a fresh gift of support.
I love the space that we allow to exist between us. We each have interests in things that the other could care less about. To realize this and to let it happen is so healthy. Except for your undying love for war computer games, I could do without that one.
I'm the funniest woman that you've ever known
I'm the dullest woman that you've ever known
I'm the most gorgeous woman that you've ever known
And you've never met anyone
Who is as everything as I am sometimes
Admit it, I make you laugh. I make you laugh more than I bore you, don't I?
You have told me that I was beautiful from the day we had our first conversation in high school, on the day that we got married, on the day that the scale almost hit 200 lbs. right before I gave birth to our daughter, and every single day in between. You have no idea what a gift this is.
You see everything,you see every part
You see all my light and you love my dark
You dig everything to which you can't relate
And you're still here
I am not capable of falling out of love with you.
I thank you for another year of bliss.
Happy Anniversary, yesterday. We spent the day cleaning for the babysitter, otherwise I would have written this yesterday. This song always reminds me of why I am married to you.
I can be an asshole of the grandest kind
I can withhold like it's going out of style
I can be the moodiest baby and you've never met anyone
Who is as negative as I am sometimes
I know I don't have to convince you of this one. Have you ever met anyone bitchier than me at times? I can say such cutting things, can't I? I like to think that it is because I am good with words, but that is not true. I just know you and know what hurts you most. How do you live with my negativity?
I am the wisest woman you've ever met.
I am the kindest soul with whom you've connected.
I have the bravest heart that you've ever seen
And you've never met anyone
Who's as positive as I am sometimes.
You once told me that you take care of me because it is my calling to take care of the world. This is when it really hit me that you KNEW me for the person that I so want to be. Thank you for weeding through the ugly stuff that I mentioned above and finding me...humble and hopeful enough to live a life of service.
You see everything, you see every part
You see all my light and you love my dark
You dig everything of which I'm ashamed
There's not anything to which you can't relate
And you're still here
I blame everyone else, not my own partaking
My passive-aggressiveness can be devastating
This is where the song diverges. You are always trying to convince me to not feel so guilty, so responsible for the way that other people feel. I am always blaming myself, and you are always there to shoo it away.
Back to the song, I promise I will become less passive-aggressive when I grow up. The thing is...sometimes it is just so damn fun to be that way. I wish I didn't direct it at you so often. For example, when you are on your computer games, I say, "Can you help with the baby or are you SUPER busy right now?" That one is my favorite. I think I will continue to use it for now.
I'm terrified and mistrusting
And you've never met anyone as,
As closed down as I am sometimes.
It is true, it sometimes takes time for me to come clean with how I am feeling. I often do it in the weirdest ways don't I? For example, you could be cooking breakfast (oh yes, thank God you are the family cook) and I will come to you a blubbering mess about something that has been stewing inside of me for months. My timing stinks. You always stop dead in your tracks (and feed me eggs) and listen, though. The thing is, you accept everything that I have to say.
What I resist, persists, and speaks louder than I know
What I resist, you love, no matter how low or high I go
There are so many things that you have watched me go through that we have both not been proud of. You wait patiently for me to come to you for help, and there you are, with a fresh gift of support.
I love the space that we allow to exist between us. We each have interests in things that the other could care less about. To realize this and to let it happen is so healthy. Except for your undying love for war computer games, I could do without that one.
I'm the funniest woman that you've ever known
I'm the dullest woman that you've ever known
I'm the most gorgeous woman that you've ever known
And you've never met anyone
Who is as everything as I am sometimes
Admit it, I make you laugh. I make you laugh more than I bore you, don't I?
You have told me that I was beautiful from the day we had our first conversation in high school, on the day that we got married, on the day that the scale almost hit 200 lbs. right before I gave birth to our daughter, and every single day in between. You have no idea what a gift this is.
You see everything,you see every part
You see all my light and you love my dark
You dig everything to which you can't relate
And you're still here
I am not capable of falling out of love with you.
I thank you for another year of bliss.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Turning Webster Over In His Grave
Something has been bugging me.
In my last post, I said that I flirted with misanthropy. When my husband read that post, he asked me what that word meant. I smugly consulted dictionary.com in front of him. I was horrified to find that the definition there was "a hater of mankind."
No, No, No! This is not me! Even though I said I only flirted misanthropy, I still do not want the term hate to be associated with me. Ever.
I have never hated a single person or group of humans in my life.
When I was very young, Mark Twain led me to believe that this word had a more gentle meaning...maybe "general distaste of the human race?"
I am freshly 30 years old. It has taken me almost all of those 30 years to realize that I am no smarter than anyone on this earth. When I was growing up I had all sorts of people try to convince me otherwise. My parents even had to have that "private meeting" with a teacher about my unusually high IQ, and they would not tell me my IQ while I was growing up. I am not sure why. Did they think I would scare myself? Ha! Let me say this loud and clear, A HIGH IQ gets you NOWHERE. It simply means you could be book smart if you wanted to be. It only took about 10 years working in the field of science to realize book smart people can be some scary, scary people.
So I would like to revise my definition of misanthrope to the following:
Someone who tends to become puzzled at the nature of humans in the following places (in no particular order): the workplace, the dwellings of academics, Wal-Mart, amusement parks, FOX news, the mall, the airport, any place that involves cars and drivers...
In my last post, I said that I flirted with misanthropy. When my husband read that post, he asked me what that word meant. I smugly consulted dictionary.com in front of him. I was horrified to find that the definition there was "a hater of mankind."
No, No, No! This is not me! Even though I said I only flirted misanthropy, I still do not want the term hate to be associated with me. Ever.
I have never hated a single person or group of humans in my life.
When I was very young, Mark Twain led me to believe that this word had a more gentle meaning...maybe "general distaste of the human race?"
I am freshly 30 years old. It has taken me almost all of those 30 years to realize that I am no smarter than anyone on this earth. When I was growing up I had all sorts of people try to convince me otherwise. My parents even had to have that "private meeting" with a teacher about my unusually high IQ, and they would not tell me my IQ while I was growing up. I am not sure why. Did they think I would scare myself? Ha! Let me say this loud and clear, A HIGH IQ gets you NOWHERE. It simply means you could be book smart if you wanted to be. It only took about 10 years working in the field of science to realize book smart people can be some scary, scary people.
So I would like to revise my definition of misanthrope to the following:
Someone who tends to become puzzled at the nature of humans in the following places (in no particular order): the workplace, the dwellings of academics, Wal-Mart, amusement parks, FOX news, the mall, the airport, any place that involves cars and drivers...
Friday, September 7, 2007
A case of the stay-at-home...
Mom and Worker.
Three days a week I send my daughter to a wonderful woman who does out-of-home daycare, so I can work from home. I work for a consulting company (two of them actually). All I need is a computer and a place to put that computer. Working from home is ideal in so many ways. Especially if you tend to flirt with misanthropy, like I do.
On the other days, I am a stay-at-home mom. I love those days. I work when my daughter naps, but I get all the joy of being with her while she is awake. Okay, by "joy" I mean sometimes- downright-inability-to-cope-with-my-toddler joy. But mostly I mean real, get-down-on-the-floor and play-with-toys-and-not-get-out-of-our-PJs-until-noon joy.
By Friday, a day when my daughter is home, I am something...weird. I would not call it lonely. I don't get lonely very often. I get this strange desire to scrub or buy something. Since I am pretty lazy, I usually end up buying something.
What I purchased today from the great Amazon.com:
A yoga video (snort...yeah, like I am going to find the time to do that!)
An herbal colon cleanser (um, I don't know what to say about this one, except I uh, well, need it, but I am pretty sure it will land me in the ER.)
That is all I have to post. I am busy these days, but I did not want my one or two readers to give up on me.
I am sure one of my Amazon purchases will result in something bloggable soon.
Go ahead, guess which one...
Happy Friday!
Three days a week I send my daughter to a wonderful woman who does out-of-home daycare, so I can work from home. I work for a consulting company (two of them actually). All I need is a computer and a place to put that computer. Working from home is ideal in so many ways. Especially if you tend to flirt with misanthropy, like I do.
On the other days, I am a stay-at-home mom. I love those days. I work when my daughter naps, but I get all the joy of being with her while she is awake. Okay, by "joy" I mean sometimes- downright-inability-to-cope-with-my-toddler joy. But mostly I mean real, get-down-on-the-floor and play-with-toys-and-not-get-out-of-our-PJs-until-noon joy.
By Friday, a day when my daughter is home, I am something...weird. I would not call it lonely. I don't get lonely very often. I get this strange desire to scrub or buy something. Since I am pretty lazy, I usually end up buying something.
What I purchased today from the great Amazon.com:
A yoga video (snort...yeah, like I am going to find the time to do that!)
An herbal colon cleanser (um, I don't know what to say about this one, except I uh, well, need it, but I am pretty sure it will land me in the ER.)
That is all I have to post. I am busy these days, but I did not want my one or two readers to give up on me.
I am sure one of my Amazon purchases will result in something bloggable soon.
Go ahead, guess which one...
Happy Friday!
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