K to the T

A good friend is one who sings with your baby. A great friend is one who folds your clothes (including your hubby's underpants). A fantastic friend is someone who does BOTH at the SAME TIME.

xo

Gloves On

"YOU VS. the SWIMSUIT!"

"Keep your eye on the prize. Go out and buy the swimsuit you want to wear. Hang it in your kitchen. Think of it as your opponent."

This is the new Special K promotion for their protein waters, cereal, and meal-replacement bars.

It made me a little pissy.

First of all, I think putting my swimsuit in my kitchen is kind of weird.

"Please pass the mayo...it's right behind the tankini."

Secondly, doesn't this contribute to all the bullshit body-hating stuff we do? Aren't we trying to work against it? It's even funnier to see the ad in a magazine that touts itself for being all about healthy women with healthy body images. That said, I'm all about dropping a few pounds if it's healthy. I'm all about psyching myself up for summer and feeling good about myself in a bathing suit. I want my girls to realize, too, that a healthy body is important. How would I explain my bathing suit in the kitchen to my kiddos?

"Well honey, I'm at war with my bathing suit. It's my opponent. I want to kick it's ass. So, I hang it here above the slivered almonds to remind myself that FAT IS BAD and that size 6 is GOOD. Here is your dinner. Don't eat too much now!"

What do you think?

You May As Well

Me: Hi peanut. It’s fun taking tubbies with Mom isn’t it?

Sam: Yah. I like a pee in the tubby.

M: Well, I’d like it if you didn’t pee in the tubby. But if you need to you can.

S: Yah. I like a pineapple.

M: Really? Me too. I like mine with some chocolate sauce. How about you?

S: I like a chocolate brownie. I eat a brownie in tubbie.

M: THAT sounds pretty fun. That way we could eat and get clean right away. Maybe next time okay?

S: Yah. I want a cup.

M: Here you go, can you dump some water on Mommy? I’m getting kind of chilly.

S: Issa chilly in heeyah.

M: Oh, can you not put that bottle near your private parts? That’s not healthy.

S: Yah. I hold a bottle.

M: Yep, that’s your shampoo bottle, it makes your hair nice and shiny.

S: I pee on the bottle.

M: Well, we can pee when we get out of the tubby.

S: Mommy get out?

M: Oh. Would you like me to get out?

S: Yah. I a swim in a tubby by self.

M: Okay. Mommy will get out so you can swim.

S: Sammy swimming. Sammy pee in the tubby. Nice and warm and cozy.

Too

Sometimes, I'm just too much. Sometimes, I feel like if I could just curtail THAT part of me, that too much part of me, things would be fine. I would be more likable. I would be more admired. I could be funny without trying too hard. Too desperate. Too eager. Too much.

Maybe some of you will read this and say..."You? Nooooo." I doubt it though. I think I know that you know what I know which is that I am sometimes, just too damn much.

It's funny when I think about it though, because although 20% wants to work on it, the other 80% doesn't much care about changing because I've been at this for 33 years and I seem to be doing okay. That said, it still occurs to me, often enough to share it, that I need to sit the hell down and close it sometimes. Leave a little mystery Jennifer. It's cool to do that. Me? Not so cool. Share and share it all, and then repeat said sharedness later to a friend that says, "Yeah, you mentioned that."

Is it part of being an only child? Probably. Like me! Like me! Think I'm funny and great....! See? I'll convince you. Let me tell you a funny. Let me show you a cool picture. Let me demonstrate how caring and considerate I am. Let me dance for you like the monkey that I am. Dance, monkey dance!

Oh....did I say too much?

Up On An Airplane

I was on an airplane last week when I visited my folks in Florida. This time, though, I went with the girls. No husband. No right-hand man. No co-parent. Yes, my folks were helpful, but it was just different, you know? Anyway, so I'm on my way down south and I'm geared up with:

-DVD player with 3 videos (names provided by my two year old: Peekaboo Show, Circle Show, Milo Otis Show)

-IPOD with kid playlist including any and all nursery rhymes. By the way, some of these are the most hideous things ever written. What about Wee Willie Winkie? Running all over town...in his nightgown...wondering if your kids are in their beds? That would get you jail time now. I digress.

-Gluten-free snacks aplenty

-Three bottles of formula for the baby

-Some grub for me (read: whatever the kids don't eat)

-Beverages for toddler. I will not drink her leftovers. LOTS of backwash.

-And, all my crap (itinerary, birth certificates, cell phone, lip gloss, hair ties, gum, etc)

My friend had outfitted me with this super duper 5 point restraint addendum to the seat belt. It worked well but really ticked Sam off. She was kind of shellacked to the seat. Anyhoo, I thought I had prepped myself well for the 7:20 am flight by curtailing beverages so as to avoid the whole bathroom scenario. How would I be able to go? Who would I bring? Who would I leave? It was a bit of a conundrum and it made me a bit anxious, so I just didn't drink anything that morning. But, my pea-sized bladder prevailed and at some point, I had to go.

Don't think I don't realize that many of my posts are about pee and poop. It's how I roll lately, can't help it.

So, I engage one of the lovely flight attendants who happily sits with my super-duper strapped in toddler, and off I go to the mini-lavatory clearly built with an eight year old's body type in mind. I am holding my one year old...thinking...how am I to make this work? Put her on the floor? Narsty narsty no. Hold her while I go? Nope. My ass will be in full-hover mode. No touchy touchy. How about I hold her while I hover? Impossible. BUT, what about the sink. Yes, yes. It's like a mini baby-seat, really. It's probably what the engineers had in mind when they build this chamber-like chamber pot.

Here's how it lays out. Mom is hovering with thighs that haven't seen a squat in...er...about 3 years. Daugher partially in sink. Mom uses head as leverage to hold baby in said sink while she finishes up, thinking..."Please don't remember this."

All in all, the flight down was relatively painless. The flight home is another story.