By George, I think she's got it!

On Sunday my daughter officially learned how to ride her "big girl" bike. No training wheels required. It's so funny to watch her because the bike she learned on is entirely too small for her. Think circus clown on a teeny tiny bike with the music playing.


I'm almost ashamed to admit it, but the method we used to teach her came from the Disney Channel. They show these long commercials about kids that make a difference and one of them showed a pre-teen boy who decided to participate in a kids triathlon but didn't know how to ride a bicycle. They showed him sitting on the bike, no pedals, obviously no training wheels, "scooting" around on it to get the balance thing down. So, I thought, what the hell - can't hurt to try it, nothing else seems to be working.

So, a couple weeks ago we went to a garage sale and bought a little bike she could sit on and touch her feet to the ground on for $3. Best $3 I've ever spent. We brought it home, junked the training wheels and unscrewed the pedals. She got right on and started pushing herself around the sidewalk and driveway. For the first few days she always had a foot on the ground, then she started to get daring and lifted one or both up as she went.

So, last Sunday she was doing her normal scooting and had gotten really good at balancing with her feet up. I asked hubby to put the pedals back on so we could see what happened. I was convinced she would just put her feet on them and go. She wasn't real up to the thought of actually riding her bike at first, but when I assured her I would be right there if she fell or got hurt she was all for it.

And, as I suspected, she pushed herself off, put her feet and the pedals, and went like hell. She didn't even realize what she was doing at first. Then she was all proud of herself and had that big cheesy grin of hers for the rest of the night.

Hubby finally did take her out and got her a bigger bike that she's more comfortable on and she's been a riding fool ever since - hasn't missed a day yet.

I'm so proud!

I'm having one of THOSE weeks

I'm sure I'm not the only person in the world who, from time to time, wonders why the hell they're married to the person they're married to. It happens every once in a while, after a terribly difficult day/week/month. This week is one of them.

Since the first of the year things have been slow at my husbands job. They've worked little to no overtime and at one point even went down to 4 day work weeks. Now, all of the sudden, they've got orders piling up out of no where are are working overtime. 10 hour days to be exact. His department made a deal with the devil, a/k/a their foreman, that their 10 hour days are from 5:00 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. during the summer and 4:30 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. during the school year. That way they aren't late to get kids from school, etc.

Every time he's on 10's, and has to work Saturday to boot, he turns into this absolute makes me want to kill him asshole that gets pissed off at things like my breathing the same air he is. Toss in a very emotional 6 year old two cats and a dog and you've got my life. How I've managed to avoid having a heart attack, brain tumor or nervous breakdown is beyond me. Must be directly tied to my increased alcohol consumption during these times that keeps my blood thinned out. Who knows.

So last night I got my haircut and highlighted. Haircuts are pretty run of the mill in most households, and every summer, EVERY summer, I get my hair highlighted. He knows this isn't a 5 minute job because this has been going on for the 10 1/2 years we've been together.

I did him a favor by the fact that our daughter came with me to the salon and was out of his hair (no pun intended) for the 2 hours we were gone. So, at 8:00 we walked in the door and this is how the conversation went:

HIM: "Why would you ever go somewhere knowing that it's going to take 2 fucking hours to get your hair cut?"

ME: "I got it cut and got highlights. The highlights are what takes the time." (He looks at my hair)

HIM: "I hope you didn't pay for that."

ME: "Of course I PAID for this"

HIM: "You better be making a phone call pretty fucking fast to get it fixed"

ME: "What do you mean 'I better be making a phone call to get it fixed'"

HIM: "Have you LOOKED in a mirror?"

ME: "Yes, the whole time she was working on me"

HIM: "And you still walked out of there looking like THAT?!?"

ME: "It's my hair. I like it. She didn't style it the way I do, but it'll look better than the crappy $12 WalMart haircut I've been dealing with."

HIM: "Get it fixed before the wedding Saturday or we're not going. I have to be seen with you and I'm not going to be seen with you looking like that."

And he walks out the door, slamming the door behind him. I don't know where he went. I don't care. The unfortunate part is that he came back.

My new cut is very cute, very fitting to my face and my frame. The highlights are quite lighter than I've ever had, so much so that I'd say I'm blonde now and I've always been a brunette. I paid $100 for this hair, and I'm afraid that if I were to call up and tell her that I need to darken it up a bit because MY HUSBAND THE ASSHOLE doesn't like it, I'd end up paying more. I've never paid $100 for my hair. EVER.

Needless to say it's pretty tense in my house and the only thing that ever makes things any better is if we just leave him out of things and mind our own business. Eventually he's done working overtime and realizes that he's a dickhead and we're back to normal, or as close to normal as we ever get.

I've not made a phone call to the hairdresser. The color is a little shocking, but I think it's because I've never had hair this light. So, it's a change, a pretty big one. But I think that in a couple of days everyone will be used to it more and things will work out. I like it. And I'm not getting it fixed.

My opinion is IT'S MY HAIR ON MY HEAD. If I'm happy about it does it really matter what anyone else thinks?!?

Come on, it could always be worse - I could have come home with P U R P L E hair.

I'm Blue

There's this song that used to play on the radio a lot but I don't hear it much anymore. I think the title was "I'm Blue" and it was by Eiffel something. Kind of a catchy song that stuck in your head WAY longer than you ever wanted it to.

Remember the scooter that my boss "won" on auction a year ago at the benefit for our friend? Yeah, he was drunk off his ass and was trying to run the bid up and got stuck. He ended up buying an $800 scooter for $1,300. And then he wanted nothing to do with it, and it ended up being mine. Well, bye bye scooter. (Blue Silver is what my husband called it - it was blue and silver, very original, I know) We sold it and are now $700 richer.

So, we're no longer "blue" when it comes to scooters.

I am, however, feeling kind of blue today. I'm getting better, but before lunch today I think I could have laid down and slept for three days. There are a lot of factors playing in with it I think.

1. I'm tired. Exhausted, actually. I've been working out later in the evening than usual and having a hard time winding down to go to bed at my normal time. So, in the morning I feel like a slug, we're always running late, and I'm either not eating breakfast at all, or like today, eating shit that's full of sugar and crashing a little while later. Case in point, cream filled long john doughnut this morning.

2. I'm sore. I've really amped up my workouts the last few weeks. I've been riding the bike no less than 11 miles. I'm running, at insane inclines, on the treadmill faster harder and longer than usual. My knees hurt, my ankles hurt, my abs hurt. My ass hurts. I hurt in places I didn't know COULD hurt.

3. I'm hungry. Weight Watchers is going well - I'm eating really healthy stuff, lots of lettuce, fresh fruits and vegetables. But I want to eat the things that I know I shouldn't and I want to eat them in amounts that I know I shouldn't. Today I totally blew it with the doughnut, and a Starbucks Vanilla Frapucinno, probably a 1/2 cup of Karo Syrup at lunch and I'm looking at a Whatchamacallit candy bar as we speak. He isn't calling my name, yet.

4. Hubby's been working overtime this week. And you know what happens when he's on overtime. Our entire house is on eggshells because he's such a crab ass. Last night he went into a total tirade because, God forbid, he had to give his daughter a bath. If I pulled that kind of shit over giving her a bath, we'd have one miserable existence.

5. My favorite high school teacher died a week ago. I just heard he was recently diagnosed with cancer and moved to a convalescence home. I had every intention to go visit him, but I was too late, he died before I had the chance. So, Herr Laesch - auf weidersehn, ich liebe diche. (He was my German teacher, and a very close friend of my German grandmother) Herr was the only reason I stayed in German class after my grandma died. And every time I ran into him he'd greet me with his patten "Taag! Wie gates?" and I'd say Hi Herr Laesch, I'm good how are you. And he'd always say "Auf Deutsch! Auf deutsch!" And when I would tell him my "deutsch" was too rusty these days he'd tell me, and he was always right, that I could still speak German - that I just had to try. So, I did, and it always came out just right. He was a wonderful man, a brilliant teacher, an inspiration to many.

6. There was a short little reference to my cousin in the local paper today. Totally caught me off guard and started the day off in a sad way.

On a good note, Eric - the ex-boyfriend, always seems to pop online when I need it the most. He always makes me smile with his off the wall comments, and today's we've been chatting the better part of the day. Thanks, I needed you today.

1 week down, 11 weeks to go

Well, my first week on Weight Watchers went...okay. I did manage to lose some weight, how is still beyond me.

I've pretty much learned that anything that I love love love to eat is off limits. Not to say I haven't still indulged. I've just done so in moderation, and with 22 mile bike rides.

I've really been hitting my workouts hard. Riding my bike out on the streets and clocking in 11 miles in 40 minutes. Now, I'm no Lance Armstrong by any stretch of the imagination, but I thought that was pretty damn good considering I'm crossing 3 major intersections during that time. My husband figures I'm riding at about 15 miles an hour. Rock on! But man oh man does my ass hurt. Thank heavens he decided to buy a "good" bike. (We got a Trek)

So, I'm getting there, slowly but surely. I'm still being honest on my recording of my food and exercise. And, even though I totally blew my points allotment last week I still managed to lose 1.7 pounds. In a week. So ha.

I'll keep you posted about my progress. So far, still a little discouraged but I think I'm finally catching on to this whole "healthy eating" thing. Now to get my husband and daughter on board - that would be sweet. Baby girl could stand to cut down a little. She's 6 1/2 (tomorrow) 4'3" and weighs 78 pounds. She looks like her dad did when he was a kid - a square. But, she's active and still growing so she'll thin down, eventually.

Not much else going on. We're getting into the garage sale mode for an upcoming family sale. Man do we have a lot of shit. It's all out of the closets and drawers and now just needs to be priced. Why do garage sales have to be so damn much work!?!

Discouraged already

I've been toting around a few extra pounds for a while now. I've been trying to get back to my pre-baby weight, but apparently that isn't meant to be. I have lost about 5 pounds myself, just by hitting the gym 4-5 times a week and running my heart out. But still, I can use some help.

So, after talking with some friends who recently joined Weight Watchers I decided to take the plunge and signed on for a 3 month stint online. No meetings to attend, it's purely on the honor system.

I started on Monday and have been completely honest about everything. My weight. What I've eaten. The amount of exercise I've done.

I'm discouraged though, because the smart people at Weight Watchers have allotted me 19 points per day. Sounds like a lot. But in reality, you pretty much have to eat lettuce all day to stay within your point category. Monday for lunch I made myself a nice lettuce salad with cottage cheese and pickled beets thinking I was helping myself out. Turns out that thousand island dressing is 6.5 points for 2 tablespoons. Who would have thought!

I'm slowing learning what I can and can not eat and the quantities that I can eat them in. It'll take time, and I'm sure it will work, but as I sit here right now, at 1:03 p.m. I'm out of points for the day. I'm not hungry yet, so it's ok for now, but I really do like to eat supper.

Good thing they also assign points for physical activity. I've been pretty close to being able to wipe out my overages so far with my exercising.

This child of mine

If not for the 5 inch long scar on my belly, I'd seriously question that my daughter is, in fact, my daughter. Not entirely, I suppose, because she is a lot like me in some respects (fear of needles) . But the adult version of me and the child version of her are not real similar.

Friday was technically her last day of kindergarten. She had to go back today for a whopping 45 minutes to get her report card and have recess one last time I guess. I got to the school to pick her up and there were literally 100+ kids jumping around with smiles on their faces - relieved that it's summer break. Not my daughter. She was the one standing their bawling her head off. Upset that she can't go to school every day all year long. She loves school. I'm sure the fact that her teacher was wonderful and compassionate had everything to do with that. Thank you so much for that Mrs. C. We needed it this year with all we've been through.

So, all told, she is now entering the 1st grade. She grew and inch and a half and gained 4 pounds during the school year. She missed one day of school and wasn't late one single day. She checked out 63 books from the school library.

I love my little girl like nothing I've ever loved in this entire world. The fact that she's getting bigger, older, smarter, more independent - scares me. No matter what, she'll always be my "Peanut".

Postal Nazi's

To start this out I have to say - I live in a small town.

There a about 7,500 people that live here and people from many surrounding small communities that work here. It's not big city living by any stretch of the imagination, but we have fast food joints, several gas stations, Amtrak, multiple manufacturing plants, and more than one stoplight. Hey, doesn't sound like much if you're big city folk, but for us here in the middle of corn field USA, it's a big deal.

My experiences with the Nazi's that work at the post office here are many. And none of them have been real positive. We have one person in particular that works there who is clearly not the Post Master but thinks she should be and acts as if she is. And people wonder why, after reaching the maximum level of tolerance toward these workers, people go off the deep end and walk into the post office with weapons opening fire? I totally understand their angst.

Like the time I sat and watched my mailman but a box of someone else's checks into my mailbox. I saw they weren't ours and tried to grab him before he took off so they could get to the right place. He flat out told me he didn't put them in my mailbox. I saw him do it and he knew I saw him do it. And still, he tells me he didn't and refuses to take them. So I took them to the post office and told them the story. Not my checks, mailman put them in our box, saw him do it, tried to get him to take them back and he wouldn't do it. Instead of thanking me for doing a good deed - they asked me for identification to prove that they didn't belong to me and I was trying to refuse service on them. A box of checks!!! From a bank!!! For someone who lives about 10 blocks away from me!!

Yesterday I had to go and pick up the mail for my parents. Earlier in the week they got a phone call about my dad's 95 year old aunt that things were bad. He's her only living relative so off to Arkansas they went. Since they didn't know how long they would be my mom went to the post office and had their mail held. They do this when they're in Arizona for the winter too. So, like I did every Friday for 6 months, I went to the post office to pick up the held mail. The problem lady is who I ended up with - great. So, she tells me they don't hold mail, that the individual carrier holds the mail, and I'd would need to contact the carrier. I don't know my parents carrier from Adam. And besides that, why should I have to call him at home to get held mail!?!

Bottom line - I did finally get the held mail that, low and behold, was in fact being held at the post office where they don't hold mail. This happened only after I asked to speak to the Post Master.

Take that you Postal Nazi.