Abusing Fat People

I went to McDonald's today and of course I had to go to the bathroom. Something about drinking 112 oz of water a day. I feel like a coffee filter trying to hold back a waterfall. Anyways, so here I go, get in the stall, plop down. Then I see my reflection in the metal door. Shooop, pee stops. Have you ever looked at yourself in a reflective stall door? How unflattering! Maybe it's the way your pants around your knees widen your stomach pooch, or how the toilet paper dispenser distorts the size of your boobs and arms, I dunno. But I got to thinking, almost every place I go to has reflective doors! The worst is Olive Garden, I think they wave the metal a little to really freak you out (thank you DQ for having wooden doors).
Is this a conspiracy? "How can we really mess with their minds? Put mirrors in the stalls!" This is some kind of abuse I'm certain. Emotional I think. And have you ever tried not looking at yourself while you wipe? HOW GROSS. It's like some sick part of you is like "Hey I always wondered what I looked like while I wiped...." and you can't help but look! And then you're even more grossed out! I guess I'll have to start closing my eyes when I have to use a reflective stall.

Dietician Disaster

I'm tired of being fat. So I went to see a dietician, because obviously my diet of blizzards and fries isn't working. Plus, it's free (thank you Tricare). So here I go. My daughter was in school but I had to take Caleb, which was going okay until he realized I was going to be talking for a LONG time (more than 3 minutes). So he starts getting ancy and the diet guy goes and gets a chair that spins, and it has wheels! Kudos! So I put Caleb in it and away he spins.
About ten minutes of non-stop spinning later Caleb gets up, comes to me and BUUUULLLLHHHH all over this guy's carpet. Chocolate milk and pop tarts everywhere. Lovely.
Can someone explain to me WHY children move from place to place while they throw up?? Do they like running and puking at the same time? They obviously don't understand the concept that staying in one place while upchucking makes only one spot to clean, and not four or five.
So here Caleb is, hurling on the floor and moving from spot to spot between heaves. I think I counted four puddles and two streaks, where he hurled in mid-walk. This gets grosser and grosser! As I grab a trash can and try to corner Caleb (which only makes him run faster and vomit more) the diet guy is being no help at all, just sitting there watching the show. When Caleb was done, you know what he said?
"Do you think he needs a glass of water?"
What?? The kid just got done throwing up everywhere! Do you need one more puddle to make the stains symmetrical? Do you like seeing kids puke? What kind of freak are you? In the end it turns out he has a two year old so he's kinda used to the unexpected happening and he was totally understanding. Except for the water thing, good grief!
Now I remember why I get a babysitter for my appointments.


You're Upset About WHAT?!!

While the husbands are away, the wives will.... panic, aparently.
So now we're down to the final four months or so of our husband's deployment. Yee Haw!! Our unit leaders have collaberated with the "higher ups" to have a re-integration meeting, which I guess is supposed to tell us what to expect when our honeys get back and how to re-integrate him back into our lives. Their slogan is "You Don't Have To Do This Alone!" or "Please Don't Go It Alone!" Interesting slogan from someone who jerked our boys out of our lives in the first place. The key elements of Family Member Reintegration Briefings are:
A. Reunion Briefings
(Namely, how to hug one another and say we missed you.)
B. PTSD/Combat Stress Awareness
(They have combat stress now? Wait till we get home to the children....)
C. Suicide Awareness
(If they haven't done it while being overseas, away from family and friends and thrust into a life of sand, gunfire and hot hot hot heat, why would they do it now??)
D. Veterans Benefits
(Thanks guys, I already did the research. Basically veterans might get help in buying a house. Maybe.)
E. Troop and Family Counseling Services
("I'm just finding it SOO HARD to let my husband cook, clean, take the trash out, pay bills, take the kids to school, share my bed, rub my feet....")
F. Military One Source
(And our husbands returning to America would change a national website how?)
G. TRICARE and United Concordia Benefits
(From what I understood, once you get back your benefits DROP. Simple as that.)
(UPDATE: Benefits can be extended for up to 180 days if your soldier has been deployed more then 30 consecutive days. WOOHOO!!)
Oh gosh. I think I may have to miss this meeting.

Sister Sense

My sister recently commented on my "Cold Cold go away" blog entry. She said "you're not getting old, you just need to get out and have some fun." I would like to reply.
The following is a schedule of my days of the week:
7 a.m.- 3 p.m.-- feed, clothe, send to school, fight with and clean after kids
3 p.m.-9 p.m.-- feed, fight with, bathe and clean after kids, work, pick up kids, put kids to bed
9 p.m.-7 a.m.-- sleep, wake up, get more water for kids, sleep, wake up to one or both kids in bed with me, sleep, wake up, get into Lily's bed, sleep, wake up, put kids back in their beds, sleep
Sometimes I squeeze in church or computer time. Now here is a simulated "night out" for me:
Spend three days juggling work schedule with babysitting schedule to see which set of grandparents will volunteer to babysit during my evening out.
Drop kids off.
Take shower.
Try to find something nice to wear, remember I've gained 10 pounds, and cry.
Pick out the usual jeans and shirt.
Spend 20 minutes trying to decide where to go without leaving a 10 mile radius of my kids, because inevitably they will sense I am trying to have fun and want to come home early.
Decide to go out to eat.
Try to find someone to eat with.
Friends are either working or taking care of their kids, in-laws and/or parents are babysitting or recovering from such.
Decide I didn't really want to go anywhere anyway.
Put on shorts and T-shirt.
Surf Ebay or MSN.
Get bored and go to babysitter's house to watch their t.v. and/or visit.
The End.
So you see, I try to have fun, but until James gets back, I really can't!

Random Thoughts

I discovered the other day that I do not own a fly swatter. But a spatula works just fine.
Conversation between Taryn and I while shopping the other day:
Me: "I dunno, I don't think that bottle will look good in my kitchen."
T: "What bottle?"
M: "The one I just bought.... didn't I?"
T: "Didn't you?"
M: "Didn't I?"
T: "Did you?"
M: "Did you?"
T: "I bought that something or other."
M: "I thought so."
Then we proceeded to Burke's Outlet. Don't ask, I don't even know. Reminds me of half my conversations with Mom. But she is getting better.
Note to Zac: Yes, baby poop can be green. It may also be yellow, orange-ish and sometimes blue, if you get the combination of food right. And yes, they will be fine.
I'm decorating my apartment so it won't look so..... undecorated. I'm aiming for a European look in my kitchen, a "woodsy" look in my living room, and a leaf/water look in my bathroom. I can't figure out a theme for my room. Chaos seems to be working though.

Ghost Pounds

Alas, my career at DQ has caught up with me, to the tune of 10-15 pounds. I'm scared to actually jump on a scale, so I'm guesstimating using the tightness of my once flattering jeans. But I have not gained ordinary pounds, oh no. That would be too simple. I have gained ghost pounds, those that move from your stomach to your hips to your thighs. Example: My jeans do not fit because I cannot squeeze my thighs into them. Then, my bras don't fit cause the straps and band are too tight (too bad I haven't gained boob pounds....). And then, my shirts don't fit cause my pooch sticks out! It's like no matter what cute outfit I try to wear, I can't because those ghost pounds appear. Funny, when I'm wearing my everyday house clothes my thighs and tummy fit fine.... Then I go to work and Kathy is like "Well I don't buy new clothes, that way I have to lose weight to wear the ones I have." Nice concept, too bad it doesn't work for me. I enjoy breathing and not looking like a slab of salami squeezed in a tube top. Which reminds me, Lily said my legs looked like sausage the other day. Grrr.