Yay! Chain Surveys on Blogger.

I was tagged by Valeta.

The rules:
Link to the person who tagged you.
Post the rules.
Share six non-important habits/quirks about yourself.
Tag three other people.

1. I'm currently obsessed with anticide. I'm not sure if that's an actual "-cide" but in my world, it's the mass killing of ants. We had a small problem when we moved in here and it's escalated. I've tried Raid discs, Combat Quick Kill discs, multi-purpose cleaner, a line of comet around where the ants are coming in, honey/borax bait, and just cleaning. The discs work somewhat, but after a good rain or a cold spell, those fuckers are back in here. I'm open to suggestions.

2. I'm tongue-tied. Literally.

3. I've never had a pedicure.

4. Between 1992 and 1997, I had no idea what my natural hair color was. Lo and behold, it's dark brown.

5. I'm a Diet Coke addict, I drink a LOT of it.

6. I refuse to watch any new Johnny Depp movies. Un-American bastard.

I hereby tag: whomever reads this. I'm only certain of one reader, and she tagged me, so...

My Truth About Motherhood

If there is one thing I wish someone had told me about motherhood, it is this: your child will force you to face your flaws and become a better person. Your child will not only make you work on yourself as a whole, but want to change yourself.

I wish I'd known how proud I'd be when my oldest child said her first word at 23 months. I always assumed I'd have a perfectly normal kid. No one told me that sometimes, kids aren't perfect. Who knew?! My daughter had/has a speech delay, she's about eight months behind the curve.

I wish I'd been prepared for how hard and how often she would cry. I wish I'd known there'd be nights I wouldn't sleep AT ALL. I never thought I'd spend over a year feeding her peanut butter sandwiches and chicken because that's all she'd eat. I never knew that a little cut on the forehead would send me into a full-on panic, half-convinced she'd need stitches (when in fact, it scabbed over and healed within a week), making me the saddest mommy ever.

I wish someone would have told me how hard I'd have to control my anger every time she disobeyed me. I didn't know how hard I'd have to work on not criticizing her at every turn; my mom did this to me for years and I always swore I'd never let that happen to my daughter. I struggle with this daily.

The truth about motherhood is that it shakes you to your core. It brings every imaginable emotion to the surface and forces you to stare at it, like a gaping wound. It makes you acknowledge your flaws and your strengths. It turns you into a lioness, protecting her cub on a very primal level. It makes you question your abilities as not just a parent, but as a member of society.

But what I really wish someone had warned me about...is how I'd have to choke back tears of joy and pride when, after a long day of potty training, reading nine Dr. Seuss books three times each, and a screaming match over eating two bites of chicken for dinner, my three-year-old would run up behind me on the floor, throw her arms around my neck and say, "Mama! Mama! I love you."

Check out these links to understand the truth about motherhood...
Advice from the Girlfriends
The Parent Bloggers Network

Just tired of this shit.

To any and all of my right coast people out there...I miss you. There's something to be said for keeping the friends you've had your whole life. They know you best and actually give a shit about you.

Someone fly out here and visit us! We used up all of R's vacation time between finding a place to live and him having pneumonia, so we can't make it back this summer. *whaaaaaaa!!!!* We have the space for guests...we'll show you San Francisco, Monterey Bay, Napa, Sacramento, Tahoe, Reno, whatever! Just come out here and see us!!!!

I can sleep when I'm dead, right?

Isn't that what someone says when they want to get some rest, but know they have things to do and thus don't get that rest? Then I must sound like a Winchester Repeater. I've had, like, a maximum of four hours of sleep every night for the last two weeks. I've got enough baggage under my eyes to take me to Germany. I'm forgetting things, I'm dozing off on the couch during the day when I'm supposed to be caring for my children, I've got a headache that just seems to carry on from day to day.

If any of you EVER catch me yapping about wanting another baby or "growing our family," bitch slap me. No mas. Two is plenty for this mama!

Todays episode is brought to you by the letter...P!

So I guess I just finally had enough of it today. Had to go out last night and buy a tide-us-over-till-payday pack of diapers for Beth. SHE'S THREE. I decided this morning - this is the day she learns. So, for the first few hours of the day, we tried underwear. I quickly discovered, however, that she saw underwear as a thin substitute for a diaper. She was still running to the potty when she'd start to go, but nonetheless...

So for the afternoon, she went naked. Finally, she got it. She was running back and forth to her potty all afternoon!!!! She still had accidents, of course, and had a big one right after dinner. But still, I'm SO PROUD!!!

Hooray for pee!

Why must girls be so damn dramatic?!

So Beth fell today. We were coming back from the grocery store and she was all grown up, wearing her new flip flops. They're orange with green frogs on them; she picked them out herself! But she has a habit of dragging her feet and she caught the front of one shoe on the pavement...BAM!!! Down goes Frasier! She immediately wailed and I honestly had no idea what she'd hit, aside from concrete. She stood up, all blubbering and sputtering, and I saw skinned hands and skinned knee.

That one little skinned knee brought on TWO HOURS of tragedy. She cried and ran when she saw me coming at her with the antiseptic (I use the Band-Aid brand that has the words "Pain Relief" in its name, but I learned a long time ago that kids can't comprehend, "It'll feel better." They just know, "It HURTS!"), she flopped around like a fish out of water when I tried to put the band-aid on, and popped loose that one last screw when it was bath time. She wouldn't put it in the water and she screamed bloody murder every time water ran over it. After all that was done, I gave her some children's ibuprofen and put her to bed. She was out cold within two minutes.

I'm vainly holding on to hope that she'll get past all this drama, but being a professional-grade drama queen for the better part of my long-legged 28 years, I know damn well that this is just the tip of the iceberg. Sugar and spice, my ass!

But I love that little spitfire.

Fat, Dumb and Happy

I think that's how my husband and I are perceived. That's what I'm gleaning. We're overweight (which we openly acknowledge and are working to change), and thus, we must be stupid. Because we're stupid, of course, we're then ignorant of our stupidity and as they say, "ignorance is bliss."

So...Fat, Dumb and Happy.

Goddamn people!!! Seriously, I'm irritated. If there's anything that gets stuck in my craw, it's when people make that assumption. I am a learned person. I'm educated. I read. Not as much as I like anymore, but I still read. If I want to know more about something, I research it. My husband constantly has his nose in a book and thinks about things like it's going out of style.

Just because we're overweight does NOT mean we're dumb. We're smart people. Don't talk down to us, don't assume we have nothing to contribute to a conversation, and please, please, PLEASE don't feel the need to educate us. It's demeaning, rude and not in your best interest. This is how you alienate people.