My Daily Plans - An Update

A couple weeks ago I wrote about the list of 11 daily habits I was trying to integrate into my life. I held no hope that doing this would actually change anything. I own at least 50 self-help books (not to mention a long history with the library), and let's just say I know my way around this neighborhood.

Well color me shocked and amazed! Not only have I been filling out my little sheet, I've also noticed which items have a made a difference in my mood and which haven't. Morning pages keep me sane; meditation is overrated. It's like I'm a grown up or something. Please don't tell my mother.

Of course previous lists have included things like, "Do cardio for 60 minutes every day while eating sub-subsistence levels of food." Then I'd beat myself up for not being able to stick to my goals for even 1 day. Now that's just a little slice of heaven for a self-flagellating depressive, I tell you!

Favorite addition to my current list? Flossing. Little bitty baby steps.

How To Know If Your Toddler* Will Make You Gray

The boys were taking a bath tonight (I like them to get clean a few times a season). Cha-Cha starts crawling out of the tub, which is usually Cha-Cha-speak for "I'm done!" I sit an arms length from the tub because Cha-Cha? He likes to splash. Big splashes. The splashing? Not so good for whatever book or magazine I'm reading at the moment. So as I reach over to help the baby, who is not adverse to flinging himself onto the bathroom rug, he slips and rolls into the water.

Just a note here. Unlike many parents I know, like, let's say a certain father who may or may not live in this house, I do not panic at these moments. Contrary to popular myth, the child will not drown in the 3 seconds it takes me to fish him out of the water. Do not email me to tell me what a terrible mother I am. I read while my kids take a bath - I already know I'm a bad mother.

Before I can get my arm in the tub, Cha-Cha's head pops up. Is he coughing? Is he desperately struggling to get air into his water filled lungs? Is he crying? No, no, no, no, no. My dear, sort-of-sweet, devil of a child is laughing. Gleefully.

And he's also not done.

He spends the next 10 minutes putting a foot up on the edge of the tub and then "pretending" to fall back into the water. A few times he actually does slip, and I watch him roll into the water. And then I watch him pop up laughing. Every time, laughing. The game only ended when Cha-Cha decided it could be made infinitely better by actually getting out of the tub and then back in. Even I'm not lazy enough to let him do that.

Cha-Cha will probably never be an easy child, but he's always fun.

*I am so not ready for Cha-Cha to be a toddler. Since he has decided to not talk, I've decided he's still a baby. And will be at least until he starts to drive. Or goes to college. Or turns 30.

In Which I Decide to Be...Fine

Do you ever not know how you're doing? It used to be an easy question for me. Mostly I did crappy. Not that I ever shared that. My answer was usually, good. Or fine. Or some other not-helpful word that generally means, "Thank you for pretending to care by asking me how I'm doing but I'll be damned if I'm exposing my feelings to you."

And how are you doing today?

I had the double whammy of psychiatrist and psychologist sessions this afternoon. I'd been fretting since yesterday that when they asked how I was, I wouldn't know how to answer. Because they're really not keen on that whole "fine" thing. Geez, do I have to do all the work around here?. To be fair, I pay them to force me to be honest. Hmmm, that's sort of f'ed up when you think about it that way. So I decided to depend on their professional opinions.

Turns out I'm doing pretty good. Meds are doing what they're supposed to be doing. I seem to have fewer side effects than with the Zoloft. Although withrawal is much worse. Not that I did it on purpose. I'm just forgetful. You would think the spinning rooms and massive headaches would be a good reminder. Turns out I'm not nearly as bright as I like to think I am.

Anyhoo. My 20 year high school reunion is in June. And I've got way too much emotional baggage being dumped in my psyche for me to believe that, as I like to claim, I just don't give a rat's ass. And when I realized that, I started beating myself up for not getting on with my life. 20 years? It's time to move on, damn it.

Officially a Cliche

Life as I once knew it has come to an end. I am a...

Soccer mom!

Quake had his first practice Wednesday night and his games start next week. Oy. He's playing with the 5 and 6 year olds even though he doesn't turn 5 until April. He's still one of the three tallest on his team, but he's no longer the fastest. Athletics come quite easily to him - he totally gets that from me. Well, me in a previous life maybe. Shut up! It's my dream. The competition will be good for him. If it doesn't utterly destroy him. Just saying.

High waisted jeans, here I come...woohoo!

I'm Like a Weeble!

We spent the weekend in Phoenix helping Monkey Man's cousin celebrate her 30th birthday. Her house is always a big hit with the 4 year old because she has a Wii. And really? What could be more wonderful to a preschooler already addicted to video games and obsessed with sports?

And she lets him drink Coke. It's kiddie heaven.

So she got the Wii Fit thingie for her birthday and much fun was had laughing at the adults who were often much worse at the activities than Quake. For those of you who haven't seen it in action, when you first get started it measures your "Wii age" based on some combination of your height, weight and balance ability on a quick succession of tests. Everyone else got ages 20 and 30 years above their real age. I managed to get a 37, only 1 year, actually 6 months, more than I currently am.

Losers! I may be fat, but I'm agile, damn it!

My mother will be so proud to know that all that money she spent on dance lessons finally paid off...

Fifi's Breakfast

My favorite breakfast - granola, Greek yogurt, fruit, and milky coffee. This particular morning I had strawberries (frozen and thawed slightly in the microwave), but I really love fresh mango and bananas or cantaloupe.

I fell in love with this breakfast while honeymooning in Mexico. Of course my love affair has gotten even more intense since I discovered Greek yogurt. You know it's love when my cheap ass is willing to spend the extra cash.

And let me guess...you couldn't give a rat's ass about my breakfast. I swear before I turned the computer on I had a dozen things to write about. Well at least I thought it was a pretty photo.

Just go check out this post over at Go Fug Yourself. I want to be Mad Auntie Fifi! Please, please, please! Yeah, I know there are lots of evil things about getting old, but frankly I'm looking forward to getting a free pass on being a touch crazy. Let them all whisper behind my back about how I'm going senile; I'll be having a blast.