Ugh. Family Illness. Hard.

Earlier this week I was back in my old stomping grounds.  A work trip brought me to Rhode Island and the southern part of Conneticutt.  While there I indulged in a bit of nostalgia by driving around, visiting old haunts (apparently my high school health teacher is now our school principal. huh.) and soaking in the senic views that part of the country has in abundance. 

Maybe it was being so close to where I grew up, driving by the house my family built or working at a place my father has been so many times for his own job but I just couldn't shake the thoughts of him and how life and distance has made me feel that I know him less than I did before.  Sure, I can tell you the facts and that the man likes to fish but what's his favorite fish? I don't know.  What's his favorite movie? I don't know that anymore either.  I could say Gran Torino but that's only because he resembles Clint Eastwood a whole hell of a lot.  I actually heard him tell a boy I once dated to, "Get off my lawn!" 

Then you get a phone call from your Mom mid-day telling you that your Dad was rushed from work to the hospital.  In the middle of a conversation in a hallway he had chest pains so bad he fell over and couldn't move. He thinks to himself, "Oh no! I'm not dying at this place!"  It keeps happening every few hours and they don't know what is wrong with him.  It doesn't seem to be his heart but it is still incredibly scary.  I feel far away and helpless.  It is times like these when I hate being an only child.  There is no one else to talk to and trade information.  H, like me, isn't known for his comforting words.  "That sucks. You should go down there." is about as good as it gets around here.  We Mason's aren't known for our eloquence or bedside manner. 

I firmly believe that there is such a thing as instincts and a sixth sense.  I kept thinking this nagging, back of my mind thought all week that something was going to happen to him.  Why else was I brooding on him so much?  I was right.  Something did happen and as squeamish as it makes me to show emotion and get personal I know that I have to get to know my Dad all over again.  It's time.  I can't keep putting up a wall because the one person who is so similar to me has just as hard a time doing this very thing.  Maybe we just show our love differently and assume the other one just knows it is there.  It still doesn't mean we actually know each other though.  No matter how much of a freak I am regarding emotions I can't let this go.

The very idea that my Mom will possibly print this out and give it to him in the hospital just makes me think, "AAHH!  KEEP IN DRAFT FORM ONLY! DON'T HIT THE PUBLISH BUTTON, YOU FOOL!"   But I'm trying to break out of this no-emotion mode. So GAH!

Kick Some Box

Despite the fact that I'm under the weather (sigh, again.) I'm going to try kick boxing tonight. 

My attempt at boxing last week was sweat-inducing, red-faced fun, boredom and exhileration all roled into one hour.  While it is definitely an incredible workout I really was loathe to having a basketball being bounced off my stomach.  Yes, you heard me.  It came out of nowhere and immediately pissed me off.  If the instructor wanted to get more fire out of me he got a big ol' FAIL.  I don't play that way.  I felt all at once invaded and angry.  I didn't want to try harder I simply wanted to yell at him, "WTF! WTF is WRONG with you?! Are you MAD?!  I had a baby just a few... oh, wait, it was a year ago...STILL.  You don't just bounce balls off someone!!"  Get your mind out of the gutter.  You just don't do that.  When he came around again I played dead.  Back to kickboxing.

When I was fifteen, I saw an article in my local paper ran a story about teenage girls and kickboxing.  My tiny, 90-odd pound self cut the article out and savored it.  I wanted to do this in the worst way, but there was no local place to be found in the tiniest state in the country (No, I do not know what it is like to live on an island.) I felt boxed in and wanted out of my little world.  I had more aggression than was probably normal and I wanted and needed an outlet.  Kickboxing seemed perfect.  Instead, I took hangers and beat my bed working myself into a Ms. Piggy style frenzy complete with heaving breaths and wild hair. I broke glass and generally beat the crap out of inanimate objects for a few years as well.    Smoking helped too. Heh. 

I don't have so much of that agression or violent tendencies anymore.  OK, maybe just a little.  I still like to beat the crap out of stuff and bite things.  That's just my nature, I suppose.  It's one of the reasons why I like to run.  I think kickboxing will be a good thing.  I just hope I don't snot all over my gloves tonight. 



Check out my post, Ms. Anti-Princess Does Disney, over at DC Metro Moms.

What's Your Dorkitude?

Amy Dickinson, from the advice column 'Ask Amy', says she possesses 'dorkitude'. I like the feel of the needle entering my skin just as I'm about to have blood drawn. Maybe that isn't 'dorkitude' so much as just a bit of the freak in me.

J'adore Presidential history. When I was a kid I had my encyclopedia's bookmarked on all the Presidents, had a giant Presidential poster that I would read each day and liked to frequently sprinkle Presidential factoids into everyday conversation. If that isn't dorkitude, I don't know what is.

I just used 'j'adore' to talk about Presidential history. That really should have been sufficient.

I have my own version of the 'Elaine' dance that I break out when I want to really make H squirm.

I still buy history text books at used book stores for use during my 'free reading' time. Currently in the pile? 'The New England Mind-From Colony to Province'

It doesn't feel like a Saturday morning in my house unless NPR is blaring away somewhere with 'Car Talk', 'Wait, wait... don't tell me' and 'This American Life'. Don't let me forget 'Splendid Table' either. Seriously, if it is not on I feel like I've missed my fifth cup of coffee or breathing.


Really, there is much dorkitude lurking in me so before I divulge all of it- spill some of yours...

Womb to Bloom has me listed as a "Friday Fantastic Five"- Aww... shucks. I feel so honored. Thank you.

PR People Plot My Ruin

The key to success with any diet or err.. life change is that one has to take the focus off the main subject. Read: STOP THINKING ABOUT FOOD ALL DAY YOU GREEDY GIRL! Also? Stop thinking that the cute orange food monster on Weight Watchers looks like a fun and lovable companion that you would like to share a scone and afternoon with as well.

So this um, life change is doubly hard when all I've been getting from PR folks the last few days is constant weight loss pitches.

'The All You Can Eat Cookie Diet!' - the pitch included picks of stars featured in US Weekly and more, all who purportedly used the noshing cookie diet and lost massive amounts of squish. Pah!

'EATALL' Snack yourself slim! Really? Just stop talking to me about snacking! It's snacking that is my downfall and how I became best buds with that darling little orange Cookie Monster wannabe.

Even Weight Watchers joined in the fun and pitched me a story about a 'busy mom who lost 30 lbs in six months!' Ooh exciting. You think I'm your target audience is that it WW? Yeah, don't want to read about someone else right now. Just trying to get through the day without gnawing my hand off and alternately eyeing the chunky thighs on my kid. Tasty little drumsticks those things are. I kid. I'm still not reviewing or imbibing Hufu after all.

I'm beginning to think that all the PR people who I don't agree to do reviews with are banding together in an evil plot to thwart my weight loss escapades. Or maybe I should just stop reading Watchmen and get on a treadmill.






My 'Meals Made Easy' piece is being featured over at Divine Caroline today. Go check it out.

What's for Dinner?

I just devoured a plate of mozzarella cheese sticks. Sshh... TD has no idea. In the oven is a batch of mac n' cheese that will be our lunch. Yeah, it's organic and all but still. It's carbs and butter and more carbs. All cheesy goodness. If I decide to throw in a side of veggies its just to ease some guilt in the child rearing department.

I look at this meal and I think, "So why on earth do people think my house is so hard to cook for?" The subject came up at last nights GNO because on our street we cook for anyone who has had surgery, a hard time or a new baby. It's about a weeks worth of food and everyone is assigned a night to bring it by and ease the burden of thinking, "Crap! I'm covered in breast milk and up to my ears in diapers and now I have to think about what's for dinner?!" It's quite a perk and one luxury I didn't have with TD as we didn't know the 'hood yet. Apparently though our house is a conundrum.

We don't eat casseroles.

We eat vegetarian one night a week at least.

We eat frozen chicken nuggets that are made of vegetable protein and not real chicken. Ssh... TD is clueless.

We .... we... we what?! We like vegetables? We eat whole wheat bread and pasta versus the other stuff? I don't get it. It's not like we shun that other stuff we just don't buy it and prefer the other choices. It doesn't mean you have to go all bulger wheat on our butts and make things all complicated. Seriously. If someone comes by my house with refined white pasta lasagna I'm going to devour it. I will happily take it and love it. It's free. I didn't have to make it. I'm in love with you for thinking of me. Enough said.

I do draw the line at casseroles though. Or anything with a cracker or chip crust. I just didn't grow up with that food and I don't like it to this day. You cook something with tuna in it and well you might be sad to see it on the curb on trash day. However, that's why we ask the all the family's ahead of time about likes and dislikes or allergies.

Maybe I'm just being overly sensitive pregnant lady but I had no idea my household ate so differently than anyone else. Then again, when H brings a salad to work for lunch with cut up veggies on the side for a snack he's told he eats rabbit food. Go figure. I thought the sheer fact that I have chips and Nesquik in my pantry shows I'm not the Skinny Bitch everyone thinks I am.

What's in your pantry? Is Quinoa a major meal or do you have only tater tots and Hot Pockets to sustain you? Or are you like us, the happy medium? Confess your pantry sins here in the comment section. You know you want to.

I have five different types of hot chocolate at least lurking in mine right now.