The most wonderful time of the year

With a nod to Staples for creating one of the funniest commercials ever.

Maybe it’s not the funniest commercial ever to most people, but most people aren’t married to a teacher who starts moping around in early August.  This commercial allows me to crush his spirit by just singing  one  little  line. Feel bad for him for having such an evil wife? He likes to call me during the summer while I’m at work from poolside. Now he is back to early mornings, annoying middle schoolers, and measley paychecks. Aaaaaaaaaah.

I would think he would be happy, now he doesn’t have to spend all day thinking up excuses for why he didn’t accomplish a damn thing around the house. That had to be exhausting.

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Enttäuschung

I’ve become one of those people. You know the ones who always have an excuse as to why they can’t work. They have to leave early to pick up so and so at the airport, they’re late because of traffic and they’re absent because of some other drama. Individually each excuse is understandable and not a problem, but you know these kinds- it’s every.single. day and you’re like, “you do realize you have a job, right?”.

Anyway, that’s me now. Prior to 2010, I had never once called in to work. I took days off but they were always planned ahead (I don’t like surprises) and if I was sick I just sucked it up (yep, I was one of those people then- people who bring their germs to work). I had mono a few years ago and didn’t miss a single day of work. I may not be the greatest employee ever but, by God, I was there! So, 15 years, no call ins- this past week, three!

Two were for a sick baby and this morning it was the car. I started out as normal, dropping off the baby at daycare, sobbing in my car because I missed her already, and getting on my way. As soon as hit the freeway for my 40 mile drive, something was wrong. The car was shaking and the engine light came on.

I bought this car 5 years ago as a present to myself after completing my MBA. My very first brand new car. It’s not fancy but it is German, which is German for “expensive to maintain). I discovered this a few weeks after I bought it and  I managed to destroy a tire by running over a nail (apparently they are made of fairy wings and can’t be repaired) and had to pay $225 for a single tire because it required some special “touring” tire, which is ridiculous because the only things I was touring were DC traffic jams. And a few months later when I found out that regular oil just wouldn’t do, it required some beechwood-aged, hefeweissen  bullshit synthetic crap that cost about as much as an actual trip to Germany. So, as you can imagine when my car acts up, I get a big pain in my wallet.

I limped the car to the garage, signed in blood and leaped over a series of hurdles to get myself to work. Cab ride home, get behind the wheel of rickety old truck held together by rust and old gum sans AC, drive manual transmission for the first time in about 5 years to the middle school where my husband teaches, spent 15 minutes attempting to enter school through a door so complicated no one over the age of 14 can work it, trade keys with Scott and finally, two hours after I first started, I was on my way.

As soon as I got to work, I got a call from the shop with the diagnosis: something, misfire, something, eight years salary, something, and oh, we went ahead a performed a safety check and these are the things we found wrong. We noticed you had a car seat in your backseat so we knew you would would probably want to get all of this stuff taken care of. Translation: Make all of these expensive repairs or you are a horrible mother no better than Susan Smith or Andrea Yates.

So I steeled myself for the final total, a normal amount multiplied by the Farfegnugen factor = $1 Googleplexian, and gave them the go ahead.

I’m currently trying to decide whether to pay by check, credit card or firstborn.

Something gained

How different things are than they were a few years ago. I don’t mean because I’m married or because I have a child. I’m talking about this.

That is a video. On the Internet. Of me in a bathing suit. And I put it there!!!!! I am fat and I look awful and I don’t care. I mean I care, but the fact that I was in a bathing suit didn’t really dawn on me when I posted it. The fact that I was in a bathing suit didn’t really bother me when I was doing it.  The day was about fun on the beach with my baby and if that meant I had to be in a swimsuit than so be it.

Five years ago when I was skinny and had time to really care about my looks, I would have cringed at being in a bathing suit and died before I allowed photos of it to be published.

I guess I’ve gained a lot more than just weight.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

On January 8, 2010, my husband’s 43rd birthday, I presented him with our daughter. It was the best birthday present ever. After 4 days in the hospital before she was in even born (you can read about here if you have 7 or 8 free hours), I was like “Happy Birthday, Mother F’er!” He also got a very nice steak dinner right before we went into the hospital.

A month later on my birthday, after being stuck inside for a week because of 50 inches of snow and the aforementioned newborn daughter, he presented me with….. not a godd@mned thing.

At the time I was pissed. Did I mention how I had just given him a child! On his birthday!!!!?? But now I’ve come to terms with it and learned to only bring it up during the most extreme circumstances.

“I don’t feel like cooking tonight” I would rather play with our daughter, who I gave birth to on your birthday!. Maybe you could cook tonight?”

“I bought these shoes and yeah they were expensive but I figured since you didn’t get me anything for my birthday it would be OK. Hey, where is your birthday present? Sleeping like a little angel?”

“Honey, I know I said I would start cleaning out the litter box again once I stopped being pregnant, but boy, that major abdominal surgery I had to get your daughter out of me on your birthday has really made me tired. Could you be a sweetie and do it for me?

And so on and so on. So I’m left to wonder, did he actually give me a gift after all?”

Fun is subjective

Last night my stepson was being punished and got sent to his room for the evening. Understanding that the idea was that he not have fun, he nervously requested permission to do pull-ups and push-ups while he was on punishment.

This is the same kid who’s most prized possession is his Iron Gym and got upset earlier in the year when he wasn’t allowed to take it on vacation to an amusement park. How could he possibly have any fun without it?

I think my bok choy might be infected

Every week we get a delivery of fresh, locally-grown, organic fruits and vegetables delivered to our house. It’s like a CSA, only different.  The end product is the same though. The items are random depending on what’s in season and available. Most of the time it is wonderful ( potatoes, tomatoes, martini, bikini), sometimes it is scary (should I put some kind of ointment on that bok choy) and every time it leaves me scrambling to try to use up everything before it goes bad. How many peaches can one family take? The only things I can think of to do with them are fattening, peach cobbler, peach ice cream, etc.

This weeks haul will include:

  • Hydro Boston Bibb……………..1 head
  • Fennel………………………………. 1 pcs
  • Broccoli……………………………. 1 bunch
  • Yukon Gold Potatoes………… 2 lbs
  • Zucchini……………………………. 1 lbs
  • !
    Yellow Squash………………….. 1 lbs
  • Tomatoes…………………………. 2 lbs
  • Peaches…………………………… 8 pcs
  • Nectarines………………………… 5-6 pcs
  • Apples……………………………… 6 pcs

More peaches and nectarines, argh! I guess I need to learn to can things? I’ve already made enough pureed baby peaches to last until Caroline needs purees again in old age.  And fennel! I’ve never used fennel. That’s half the point though.  It makes get out of our rut when it comes to meal. Time to comb the internets for fennel recipes.

Tonight, I run.

I’m going running. That might not seem too blog worthy but for me it is. I used to run. A lot.

This was me, post marathon. I’m in the pink.

Then I got married and I just wanted to give my body a break after the wedding. It felt like it had taken a pounding after so much running in so many years. That break, however, turned into a lifestyle. I got pregnant and that first trimester exhaustion hit me like a mac truck. When I wasn’t working, I was sleeping. I couldn’t do anything else and by the time the second trimester rolled around and I had a little more energy, I was just out of the habit. So instead of running, I ate and I gained. Then I had a c-section and it snowed 50 inches and the next thing I knew it was spring, I was FAT and I hadn’t run in a full year.

I didn’t even feel like I could run. I was so fat, I thought it would destroy my knees. So I’ve been walking, but walking just isn’t doing it for me. I miss running. I miss the rhythm of my feet striking the ground. I miss the sweat. I miss the exhaustion. I miss the feeling of accomplishment after a long, hard run.

So I’ve researched running while obese. I’ve got my fat girl running shoes. Tonight, I run. I’ll be slow and I’ll have to walk a lot, probably most of the time. But I’m excited and a little afraid that I may be Twittering from the ER later on.

See you at the finish line.