My Dancing Queen

OK, I am totally into this movie thing! It seems to keep me out of trouble, at least for the time being. The last time I heard this song it was joined with a clip of my husband dancing drunk on New Years Eve. Boy have times changed. Enjoy!

For Those of You Who Do Not Believe...

When Your Tivo Betrays Or Was it My Husband?

The other night Damon made the mistake of flipping the TV channels and landing directly on a movie called Murder in the First. I immediately began to nag at him to turn it off and started whining when he refused to do so. Not sure if you all have seen the movie, but boy is it gory. It stars Kevin Bacon and tells the story of a prisoner who is serving time in Alcatraz for stealing $5.00. The worst of it is that after he tries to escape he is tortured and kept in solitaire for three years. As you can imagine, when he is finally released into the general population he is, as we say in the profession, nuttier than a fruit cake.

Back to the nagging part. Since having Olivia, I can't stand to watch anything that is not so sticky sweet that it resembles a Thomas Kinkade painting. Honestly, something comes over me, and I am immediately in tears thinking of all of the wrongs in the world. Must be the social worker in me or the mother. I used to be a Freddy Kruger fan, a fan of Psycho and One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest. I endured Schindler's List and tearjerkers like Terms of Endearment. Now, nothing but reality shows and cheese ball sitcoms.

OK, now really back to the nagging part. I whined to get Damon to put on American Idol and nothing. Thinking back, I must need to improve my technique. I begged and pleaded and moaned and nothing. I was told to get over it. It was just a movie, and I always get to watch what I want. I am sure some of you can play this scenario back in your head clear as day. So, Damon proceeds to leave the movie on. By this point, there I am mind glued, eyes tearing, an emotional wreck. When all of a sudden, out of nowhere, up pops a timer counting down two minutes until an automatic Tivo switch to record mode. What? Damon, quick do something! I must see how this movie ends! Damon chuckles quietly and says, "You know you have already seen this movie." No! No! I do not remember! Do something! He can't! Damon goes on, "If you want to miss Big Brother 8, we can stop the recording and keep watching the movie."

How could he possibly suggest I miss Big Brother 9, a show I have invested way more time into than I would like to admit. What a decision! You thought you had problems! Can you imagine my dilemma? I was furious with Damon for putting me in this predicament in the first place. If only he would have changed the channel! I could go on and on, but I seem to be losing my train of thought here. Obviously, I have some unresolved feelings about Damon not succumbing to my whining or sympathy for the Kevin Bacon's character in the movie, but damn that Tivo.

The Easter Egg Chronicles

And so it begins. A large majority of the hubby's 42,000 relatives are headed our way for the Easter holiday. They are coming from Washington, Texas and downtown beautiful Riverside. I have spent the large portion of the day hopping from one grocery store to another to collect just the right cilantro, limeade, croutons, and chicken, veggie chicken of course, for those who dare. Honestly, four different super stores including, Ralphs, Wally World, Trader Joes, and Costco. Paper plates will be used on Easter eve, due to the dinky amount of obnoxious black ceramic plates that we have.

Plastic eggs coated in lead paint from China will be filled with pretzels and goldfish, and Olivia will be wondering just why she has to find food in the grass. Get the pink ones Olivia! You know you are supposed to love pink. You are a girl, in fact. A good time will be had by all, as the margaritas and beer keep flowing. No, not for Olivia. She sleeps long enough without the sauce, and besides we are saving that for the plane trip to Maui that we will be conquering in early May. For all of you concerned about the Pugs, they will be dining in and will not be absent to agility class on Saturday.

Happy Easter Egg to All and to All a Good Night!

This Will Make All the Difference

Back from a blogging hiatus, here I sit ready to describe to you my utter confusion with my current life circumstances. I had always, okay Mom, maybe not always, but for a bit of time now, seen myself as a career oriented person. I could be found waking up at an ungodly hour or nuking my always delicious Lean Cuisine entree du jour at the given lunchtime. I never allowed myself to wear the same outfit twice in one week, and I would strive to work my way up that slippery ladder. I dabbled in supervision. I forced myself to attend and even participate in some nightmare family therapy sessions, and I even attended ridiculously boring and unproductive meetings that left me longing for a Diet Coke to keep me awake for the remainder of my day. Was I happy? Not really. I mean I loved the kids I worked with, but I always suffered from the Sunday night blues.

These days on the other hand, I frequent the local park. I allow my daughter to watch more television than I would like to admit, and if you happen to see me on a Tuesday and then again on a Thursday, I may very likely be wearing the same pants. I attended a MOMS Club meeting yesterday. For those of you not familiar with the MOMS Club, it is an International organization that stands for Moms Offering Moms Support. However, I tend to stay to myself for fear that I will have nothing in common with the other housewives. So, not much support happening there.

As I have said before, I have found myself very puzzled lately. People continue to ask me what I have been up to, and I find myself pulling answers out of you know where. What have I been up to? Do people really want to know? I watched 3 episodes of Signing Times, changed 4 diapers, fed the dogs, did the laundry, sang my ABC's and made dinner around 5:00. Different answers usually apply to different people. For former worker buds or people I am trying to impress or at least engage in lasting conversation, I might reply that I am thinking about starting a private practice or maybe do some volunteer work again at the local battered women's shelter. But, I am not really. I mean I would like to, but I don't seem to have the motivation or courage or whatever it may be.

Of course, there is always the other option--Baby #2. Can you hear the cheers from the Grandparents now? That option leaves me more confused than ever. Could I do it all over again? The pregnancy, the delivery, the lactating? Oh, the lactating. The infancy! As you all know it took a year and a half for me to get pregnant the first time. Those 15 months along with some divine intervention, and I was puking in no time at all. Not that all of that puking wasn't rewarding in the end, but the toilet and I became way too intimate.

It would seem that I have traveled to the two roads that diverged in a yellow wood. Each needing more thought. Each provoking opinions. Each keeping me up at night. Each with daffodils and thorny bushes along the way.