Confirmation

Ok, clearly "shut the hell up" is not the right choice in my dieting dilemma. My need to shed a few (let's not get into how many I am considering is a "few") was confirmed by Lori last night. Hey, do you remember Lori? That one that a few short weeks ago I wrote a loving and glowing tribute to? Today's post... not so much. In fact, I am thinking of renaming "Be Nice To Lori" Day "Kick Lori In the Shins" Day.

Lori just returned from Florida, so the girls and I got together last night to dish. Its been like two whole weeks since we'd seen each other, so much gossip was spread. When Lori was giving us the run down on her vacay, she said that something she did made her think of me and it cracked her up. I was all ears, as I am a total attention whore, so I waited with baited breath (is it bated or baited?) as she continued. She thought of me when she was at Sea World and saw Shamu. Pause for reaction. I am quite sure the story was going to continue.... but she took that moment to pause and therefore Homa, Laura and I erupted into hysterical laughter. Of course, my laughter was only to mask the murder plot that I was devising in my head at the time. She really did continue the story (although it was nowhere near as funny after the whole "Lynn is like Shamu" thing), and I am sure she didn't mean to offend (right? RIGHT?????)... but I am considering that it may be a sign from God that her story would come out that way on the exact day I wrote a blog post about being a heifer... I mean killer whale.

Actually, if you look at us... the body shape is pretty similar. Just in case you can't tell... the first one is me. (I am the one in red... holding fat Jack. See the resemblance???)
This is the whale. I mean Shamu.... I guess the "whale" part is debatable and may apply to both.

In light of this, I am going to bite the bullet (instead of the Quater Pounder with Cheese and large fries). I love the comments and the idea of getting a blog group on a diet. Tell me when, where and I will sign up (as long as we don't have to go to those friggin' meetings). Uh... and...as long as its not until Monday. My in-laws are coming this weekend and God knows I need the excess calories for stamina.

The 8 Year Diet

So, I am fat. Its ok, you don't have to write in that I am gorgeous or I look good at any size or the dreaded "but you have such a pretty face." (Mark, I especially mean you. Don't do it. Its not safe). I don't look gorgeous, I would look better smaller, and my face ain't that great. I am funny. I am witty. I am smart. I am a smart ass. My kids are cute. Those are my only attributes. Looks... not so much. But, here's the kicker. I recently realized that my friend Homa and I have been talking about dieting since I met her. In 2001. That means that I have been talking about going on a diet for 8 years. Seriously.
In that time, I had a three month stint with Weight Watchers, where I agreed to give them my money and cook their recipes and not lose a damned thing. Truly. I didn't cheat. I followed that diet to the number. I calculated my fat and fiber grams and divided by my weight and multiplied by the number of letters in my mother's maiden name and then I combined that with my blood type and signed away my first born son (his name was Sam... we don't speak of him since Kirstie Alley took him away. Ok, so she was with Jenny Craig. Whatever). Let me tell you...the weight seemed to melt off... of MARK. The weight seemed to cling on... to ME. Lying cheats, that's what I call them. And really... can you picture me in one of those meetings? Its not pretty. Picture lifetime member "Tammi" gleefully talking about how carrot sticks are the new Hershey bar. Would you want to say that with me in the room? Didn't think so. Carrot sticks are the old carrot sticks and Hershey's is my friend. Piss off, Tammi. We'll discuss "trading hugs for jugs" next week at your own risk.

So, I am at an impasse. I am no thinner than I was 8 years ago. I've had my ups and downs... ups being the general direction (and if this were mountain climbing or banking... up would be a good thing so who I am to judge whether or not its bad in weight land). The downs were taking place only when breastfeeding Will, which I now realize I never should have stopped. Yes, it may be creepy to breastfeed a soon to be three year old, but seriously... if you can down an entire Ben and Jerry's 1400 calorie pint and not gain an ounce... isn't it worth it??? So, here's the burning question. Do I actually break down and go on a diet that has apparently been worth discussing for 8 long years of my life? Or, better yet, do I just shut the hell up?

Trip to the Snorchestra

So, last night I was able to attend the Snorchestra. The nice thing about this particular performance is that it isn't as snooty as a regular orchestra. The ticket prices are decent, the lines short and the dress code is extremely casual. I got the ticket for the bargain price of promising to love and to cherish, to honor and uh... obey (snort... yeah right). I was the only one attending the show (until Will woke up and 2 a.m. and joined me), and I was appropriately dressed in my black and white pajama pants and black t shirt. When in doubt... wear black, I always say. The featured performer last night.... Mark. His symphonic range of bodily functions was not to be missed... and not for the timid.

I was watching Tivoed Grey's Anatomy when the snorchestra began. (And can I just say, Grey's...uh heartbreaking much??? Do we have to always kill children on these shows? Are ratings not high enough when the adults croak, we have to get the most cherubic, big eyed, baby talking little angel around and then ax them???? Thanks for that, Mary Shelly or Angela Kelly or Mary Poppins... whoever you are that write that show. But, I digress.) Initially, there was the tuning period before the music began, where Mark flexed his various instruments. There was a little sigh here and there. A snore, quiet at first, and then when the actual performance began it would ebb and flow leading up to a crescendo of mouth and nose noises that should not exist in a human being. The climax of that section so loud that I still don't know exactly what the Grey's cast were saying (but they cried, so I am pretty sure the kid was toast).

Later, the performance became more interesting when the snoring was accompanied by loud bouts of coughing, which I assume was the percussion portion of the event. Sonic booms like the staccato blast of the timpani (sounds like I actually know something about music, right? But really, I am just making this crap up) came with the soft bell like sounds of a symbol, the vibrato of his phlegm chiming in.

At the very end of the show, when the snoring softened and the hacking quieted, and I started my golf clap of appreciation came the finale. A loud one time burst of gas, passing through his nether regions with the force of a missile... and then... silence. Like a breath of fresh air (except without the fresh air and with me holding my breath). The snorchestra ended and like a good performer, Mark left me wanting more. Oops, not more.... a divorce, is what I meant to say.

Happy Sleep Deprived EEG Day

Dum Dum (Meant to sound like the weird Law & Order sound that you can't really duplicate while typing).

Playroom at Lynn's House
4:02 am

Jack doesn't want to be awake. I don't want to be awake. Jack sucks his thumb and whines. I suck my thumb and whine. 4:00a sucks. 4:00a is better than 2:00a, but it still sucks.

*** To be continued. ***

Playroom at Lynn's House
4:28 am

Jack playing with balls (no, pervert... not his. The ones of the bouncing and basketball and baseball varieties). Lynn super tired. Jack whining. Lynn whining on her blog. 4:28 am sucks too.

*** To be continued. ***

Kitchen at Lynn's House
4:48 am

Lynn is folding laundry wondering why she doesn't get up at 4:00a every day to get chores done. Oh yeah, because she fell asleep at 1:00amish, Jack woke up at 1:15 amish and Will woke up at 2:30 amish. Just realized that "am-ish" without the dash is amish. Too tired to fix it and typing with only one finger cuz holding Jack in desperate attempt to keep him up.

*** To be continued. ***

Family Room at Lynn's House
5:14 am

Jack is feeling playful. Lynn realizes that a snot sucker may not be the healthiest toy for Jack to play with, but if it makes him happy. She will let him continue to chew it. Oh yeah, fine... call Child Protective Services. Even they will understand that keeping your kid awake takes desperate measures.

*** To be continued. ***

Playroom at Lynn's House
5:37 am

Get the crash cart... we're losing him!!!!

*** To be continued. ***

Playroom at Lynn's House
6:13 am

Walked into kitchen to nuke pizza for my breakfast. Hey, as long as I've been awake, it can probably be considered lunch time. Re-entered playroom to find Jack face down on a toy. Threw him into sitting position. He is looking at me like "why mommy? Why don't you love me anymore?"

*** To be continued. ***

Lynn's Home Office
6:33 am

Mark is awake and dressed, so signing off to go get ready and then head to the neurologist. Hope Jack forgives me some day, because he is sure hating me now. Wish us luck with the EEG.

*** To be continued. ***

Lynn's Home Office 9:26 pm

Jack's EEG looked great. It is unconfirmed, but the tech said that she thought it looked perfect. Should hear back from Doc tomorrow. Jack came home at 11a WIDE AWAKE. He slept at EEG for 30 minutes. Sure...when you need him to be awake, he is EXHAUSTED... when you are ok with him napping he is awake. Kids suck. But, he is healthy, so just today... I won't complain too much. (Because I was too busy napping myself!)

The End.

Dinner With A Friend (The Sequel)

Did you notice that this time there are no quotations around the word friend? Last night I really did feel like we were closer to what we used to be... and I attribute a lot of it from the advice I got from you guys.

J.D., in particular, struck a cord. Why wouldn't I be myself? I was going out with my friends Homa and Laura, and Ardnas too, but why not focus on the way we always have fun... and the Ardnas part will work itself out. And you know what? It did. You're a smart man, Charlie Brown (or J.D.).

I wore what I would wear if I went out with my usual group. I acted how I would act if I went out with my usual group... and when I made a sarcastic comment (I know... me sarcastic... who'd have thunk it), Ardnas laughed too. And when she talked about her kids, who are so close to mine in age, it didn't feel like a competition. Her Retep is no better or worse than Will... just different. Although, at least he is potty trained... so he's one upping me in that regard for sure! (Not me, I've been potty trained for years... but Mr. Will is a stubborn little pooper). In all honesty, we did do the Christmas letter versions of life to some extent, but I think that is normal. I think that its to be expected that you don't come out with the boo hoos and the "my life suckses" when you haven't seen someone in a long time. But, it wasn't completely fake. There was honesty on her part about some professional issues, and I made it pretty clear that Will belongs in a straight jacket most of the time.

Time will tell what happens next. I was just as absent as she was for the last six months. I didn't call her either. So, the ball may be in my court now. She initiated dinner this time. In a little while (not 6 months), it will be my turn to make the effort. But, I think, if we can connect a little more often, the friendship that I used to value may make a come back.... (don't call it a comeback, I've been here for years... Sorry. Always gotta channel a little LL Cool J when I talk about comebacks).

Dinner with a "Friend"

So, tonight my crew (minus Lori who is basking in the sunshine... if there is any... in Florida) and I are going to dinner with an old friend. Its a bit of a sticky wicket (as the geezer on Dancing with the Stars would say) so I thought I would throw it out to the masses and ask their opinions.

My friend, we'll call her Ardnas (names are changed to protect the innocent), used to be one of my best friends. I met her when I moved to Indiana, but our friendship didn't prosper right away. She was a little older than me in years, and a lot older than me in maturity, and we didn't click right away. We were civil, but not close. Homa was our mutual friend though, so we bonded eventually and eventually-er she was even in my wedding. We threw her bridal shower, her bachelorette party, her baby shower, and were anxiously waiting at the hospital when her baby boy was born. He's about six months older than mine. Then, we drifted... and by drifted I mean that she eventually stopped talking to me altogether. Silence. Cut off. Shut down.

Make no mistake, that was a rough period for both of us. We both were having our first kids, and nothing, and I mean nothing, throws life out of whack more than your first crack at parenthood. Plus, as I mentioned above... we are pretty different. I never really knew the reasons why she decided that our friendship was over. There was no discussion... just radio silence. But, it seemed that we just went two different directions (which is interesting, because she was the friend that my path in life was closest to... married a few months later, kids a few months younger, but essentially, the same path). But, we drifted. I know that she made the "cut off" decision because she felt it was best for her, and I honestly harbor no ill will about it. I missed my friend, but I was never angry.

Two years later, we semi-reconnected. Her husband's mom died, a lady that I met on many occasions, and I sent a sympathy card. She emailed back a "thank you" for the card, and I wrote her back. I wasn't going to put myself out there to be cut off again, and it took about a month to do so, but I did. Then, our group (a foursome that used to meet out on a regular basis) met out for dinner. It was awkward and no one was as open as we used to be... but it seemed like a start. A few weeks later, she and her family came to my house for dinner, and it was awkwarder. Our parenting styles were too different. I felt judged by what I let my kids do, and I felt fake fearing that any comment would come across as me judging her. I hate feeling fake. Then... radio silence again. Nothing. For six months. But to be fair... the silent treatment was on both sides. I didn't call her either.

Suddenly, Ardnas sends an email to the fab four asking for a dinner tonight. At the time, I was uneasy. What do we have to talk about? Why catch up with someone who misses huge chunks of my life? But, Homa said that if we just view Ardnas as an acquaintance now, why wouldn't we go? Which is true. I truly wish her no ill will, and could easily chat if I saw her out or at a mutual friend's house. So, we agreed to go. But, to make a short story as long as humanly possible... now I am not too sure. I am nervous that the feelings that made her bail in the first place will come back. We seem like a much better idea in theory than in practice. And, I am afraid that my fear of saying something that will cross the line will keep me from saying anything real. And, what is the point of being with me if I can't be real.

I am so nervous about dinner. I don't know what to wear. I don't know what to talk about. I feel like its a first date, but I already know the relationship isn't going to work out. We walk on eggshells trying not to offend each other, and that isn't real communication. When she asks what's new, what am I going to say? In the last six months... a lot. I don't want to get into Jack's medical stuff, because she won't be there to comfort me if his EEG on Thursday turns something up. And, I don't want to talk about stresses raising Tabbi, because I don't want to be judged as lacking as a parent (I reserve that for my readers). I feel like I am going to recite the "Christmas letter" version of my life... which is a brief summary of events and milestones in the best light possible to display my perfect life. YEAH RIGHT! I don't do Christmas letters and I don't have a perfect life. So, does it make sense to spend two hours tonight pretending like I do? Time out, sans children, is a rare commodity in my life. Is Fakety Fakerton the person I want to be when I get that time? And, I don't even mean that just for me. Is it worth it to her? If I am fake and don't want to risk offending her, is it worth her time, as well? Are past memories enough to keep the spark alive, or is it time to let the fire die?

God Bless Suburbia

Sung to the tune of God Bless America by Irving Berlin (with lyrics completely obliterated by me, of course. Sorry, Irv).

God bless Suburbia,
Subdivision where I live,
With my minivan, and my pooches
and my 2.5 required kids!

From our strip malls, to the Targets
To the soccer fields, overrun
God Bless Suburbia,
The home of clones.
God bless suburbia,
The home of clones.

With our uniforms, from The Gap
And our hair in perfect bobs
God Bless Suburbia,
The home of clones.
God bless suburbia,
The home of clones.

Where Oprah, is our leader
And Gail King, our new VP
God Bless Suburbia,
The home of clones.
God bless suburbia,
The home of clones.

With our houses, all in a row
its so hard to, find your own
God Bless Suburbia,
The home of clones.
God bless suburbia,
The home of clones.