Fast Food is My Nemesis

 

It’s true…sad…but true.

Last year, we tried clean eating, because my husband was on a weird diet to combat psoriasis. And it worked for a little while. But the psoriasis came back, and we all really missed red meat, pork roast and tomatoes. So, gradually, red meat came back and so did tomatoes which led to fast food coming back too.

We don’t eat it all the time. I mean, I don’t even drive, so it’s not like I’m out running errands and it’s just easier to pick up than cooking dinner.

I just really HATE to cook!

I have a whole collection of food blogger recipes and pinterest recipes that I’ve collected over time. I’m even fairly budget-conscious, so I plan my meals in advance, and only buy what I need.

But cooking! UGH!

I blame part of it on my kids (not really) because they aren’t big eaters either. And 5 days out of the week, I hear “what’s that?” while I’m making dinner. And sometimes I agree with them.

Tonight, we were supposed to have chili with pancake batter drop biscuits. Easy, right? But I just can’t bring myself to cook it. That, and my husband ate the leftover stew meat that was going to go in it. Oh, and I’m not a fan of chili. And the kids even grumbled at the idea.

Right now, a burger with cheese and onions and a side of fries sounds so good. My mouth watered just saying that!

I shouldn’t…I really shouldn’t. But I promise I’ll make up for it with a balanced meal tomorrow with chicken and vegetables and everything. But tonight…I want that cheeseburger!

Now to convince my husband to pick it up on his way home. He stands between me and my craving.

I justify this by saying that I don’t spend my money on clothes (I live in yoga pants and t-shirts), I don’t go out and party (I haven’t had a drink in months – not even wine), I don’t even get my hair colored or styled (I’m very low maintenance), and I can’t even tell you what the last movie was that I saw in the theater …except I NEED my fast food fix every few weeks.

Is that a crime? Who else is willing to fess up?

Avoiding the worst job in the house

 

Our bathrooms are white: white tile, white grout, clear glass shower doors on one shower, and a stark white bathtub in the other bathroom.

AND we have hard water which not only leaves horrible water spots, it cements any mildew to the grout. I can forget about using baking soda and vinegar. Only harsh chemicals will cut through that mess.

So, needless to say, cleaning the bathroom is the WORST job in the house.

I will do almost ANYTHING to avoid it, including cleaning out the garage or scrubbing the kitchen garbage can! #responsibility avoidance

The smell of the ammonia in the grout cleaner is enough to take down a small elephant, let alone a woman of 130 lbs.

I’ve been known to devote entire Saturdays to reorganizing closets, or vacuuming all three flights of the house just to avoid the bathrooms. Today has been one of those days.

I had almost convinced myself that no one else was going to clean it, and I may as well bite the bullet and get busy, when my son wanted to WALK to the library. It’s over 90 degrees today, but if my son wants to go to the library, then who am I to say “no” to him! LOL

And now it’s almost time to start dinner, so I can’t possibly start a cleaning project of that magnitude now, right?

Tomorrow…yep…definitely tomorrow…unless…

 

What’s the one job you avoid? And what lengths will you go to to put it off?

Help! I’m becoming a helicopter mom!

 

I thought I was a “chill” mom, but I guess I’m not.

I’ve never really been a helicopter mom. When the kids both started pre-school, and the other moms were crying on that first day, and children were clinging to their mother’s legs, mine left me willingly. It was almost insulting…they couldn’t wait to get away from me! LOL

But I considered it a blessing. We’ve never experienced separation anxiety, except for one brief week in kindergarten for my son. I’m not sure what got into him, but it left as quickly as it arrived.

Now that they’re in their pre-teen and teen years, however, I find myself wanting to hold on to them tighter.

Maybe it’s because I know what I did as a teen and what my husband got away with, and that scares me to death. And, by the way, I was the “good kid” in my group.

My daughter is 15…she’ll be driving in a year, God willing. And there are some days that I’m surprised she remembers to put on shoes before she leaves for school. How will she be ready to operate a motor vehicle! We better do a lot of work this next year.

This weekend, she got an offer to got to her first concert with a friend in the big city. It was a dive club that they’d have to take the metro to. Her friend’s mother was going to accompany them, so I shouldn’t have been nervous, but I was. My husband wasn’t. He was all-encouraging and pointed out that we were driving ourselves to concerts in horrible parts of Hollywood unaccompanied, when we were 16. But I was the third and last child in the birth order at my house and figured that my parents had given up being strict by the time I rolled around. Besides, I was the “good” kid, remember?

My kids are “good” kids too. Really good. But the world has gotten a lot scarier than when we were teens…or at least it appears that way. Maybe my eyes are just more opened to what’s out there compared to what my parents knew what was going on. Thanks information age. #notemysarcasm

So, what’s happening to me? Why am I feeling the need to hold on tighter when I should be loosening my grip? I know it’s wrong and I’m not doing them any favors. They need to explore and make mistakes. It’s just that the older they get, the bigger the mistakes get, and there’s no way to make them understand that.

The concert thing worked itself out. Turns out the club they wanted to go to has an 18 and over age limit. At least I escaped this time. But more times will come, and I’m just going to have to trust that I’ve prepared them, and learn to clip my helicopter wings a little…but not completely. And maybe watching the news a little less would help too.

How about you? Do you find yourself letting go or holding on tighter as your kids get older?

Pretending to be “Normal”

 

Epilepsy is a funny thing. I can go weeks without an “episode.” I love those times. It’s when I feel most normal, like I can do anything, like I’m just like the woman standing beside me at the grocery store (except that she probably drove herself there – I can’t drive…thanks epilepsy).

And then it only takes a 30 second “episode” to change all that.

My confidence (and my brain) gets shaken, and I suddenly get that apprehensive feeling that hangs over me like a dark cloud. When I was little, before I was diagnosed, I used to tell me mom that it was “going to be a bad day.” Neither one of us knew why I said it, I just had this feeling of doom that hung around.

Fast forward some 35+ years later, and I know exactly what I was getting at: the anxiety that accompanies seizures.

It was so much easier when I was younger and fearless. But as you get older, you get wiser, more cautious…almost to a fault.

Every time I have a seizure, it sets my confidence back a step. And depending on how strong the seizure, it sets my confidence back A LOT of steps.

It makes me question my independence: Should I go places alone? Should I take public transportation alone? Should I even try to cross the street alone?

I will always be the “weird girl in the corner,” I’ve gotten used to that. But I hate that my kids are now old enough to see me as the weird girl in the corner.

It’s hard to portray confidence, and show them that they need to work through their challenges whatever they may be, when some days I don’t even believe it myself.

Life will always through curve balls that you may not be prepared for, you just need to decide if you’re going to swing or duck. Today I feel like ducking.

I just want my confidence back. Tomorrow’s another day. Maybe it will be a good one. It certainly will never be a “normal” one.

Thanks for listening. I wish I had some grand epiphany to share, about how I’ve learned something wonderful from having epilepsy, but today my brain is tired. Today epilepsy sucks.

Countdown to Summer

 

Three more weeks until Summer Vacation!

Most years I have some apprehension about summer vacation…and what to do with the kids. In years past, I would have already been planning out their summer, trying to come up with ideas to fill their days. But not this year.

I think I am almost as burnt out on school as they are (though they would disagree). I am so tired of checking the Parent Portal. I’m done nagging, ooops, I mean “encouraging,” them to do their homework and study for the that test. I’m tired of helping them study for a German vocabulary test that I will never use in my life.

I’m tired of the speeches that start with “I’m sorry you don’t like school, but…”

The truth? I’m not sure when you will ever need to prove the Alternate Segment Theorem of a Circle, or if the Quadradic Equation will ever save your life. Probably not. But you still have to learn it because you signed up for the class and you have to finish what you start. And yes, you have to pass the class too.

I’m tired of getting up at the crack of dawn and making lunches, being sure to cut the crust off of one sandwich, and that this one likes Cheetos, but this one doesn’t. Frankly I’m amazed that no one ever went without a lunch or was late for the bus all year long. (Albeit we still have 3 weeks left -there’s still a chance).

I’m tired of remembering everyone’s schedule, or buying a purple shirt and polka dot socks at the very last minute that they’ll never wear again just because it’s Twin Day tomorrow. And don’t get me started on money for last minute pizza parties or missing library books that are later found on another shelf at the school library.

I’m tired of arguing over taking a shower (yes…you have to do it). I’m done with arguing over what time to go to bed – you know you get cranky when you stay up too late. I don’t care if your friends stay up until midnight on a school night…I don’t stay up that late so neither do you.

Stick a fork in me…I’M DONE! #readyforsummer

I’m ready for sleeping until noon (okay, not me, I have to work), I’m ready for staying in pajamas until 3pm. And I won’t even criticize if they don’t brush their hair everyday – at least for the first few weeks of vacation.

They are finally at an age where I am stepping back a little. It’s time they start taking control of their own time and how they use it. Just don’t expect to spend 12 hours a day on the computer or the cell phone. That’s NEVER going to happen.

But let’s relax…go outside…eat dinner late…play outside after dark with friends…have water fights, and sleepovers…go to the library…go to the pool…sleep some more…stay up until midnight (just don’t expect me to stay up with you)…go to the movies in the middle of the week…skip breakfast…hang out with friends (in person, not on line)…

Summer is coming, and I’m ready this year!

They broke my doorbell!

Several months ago I blogged about how our tiny neighborhood has suddenly exploded with kids – all boys, and one brave tomboy girl. Every time I see the group of them coming down the street, I smile at the gang of trouble headed my way.

And trouble is what I got.

The typical afternoon starts with my doorbell ringing. But it isn’t the simple ring that you or I would do. It sounds more like this: ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong…pause about 30 seconds then repeat…ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong and continues until someone comes to the door.

I might be a little more tolerant if the kids were toddlers and didn’t know any better, but they are 10 and 11 years old! Even my son is frustrated by the time he answers the door.

Then when my son tells them he has to finish his homework, they are back at the door in 10 minutes repeating the same doorbell pattern. Ugh!

When my son is finally finished with homework, he’s allowed to go out and play. We live in a condo area, so the rules for him are fairly tight – no playing on people’s driveways, stay out of the bushes (residents pay for upkeep through the HOA, and it’s only a matter of time before a bush or flower gets broken and the kids get blamed by one of the residents without kids).

One Saturday morning, an adult came to our door, and rang the doorbell (as it should be rung) and it broke…IN HALF! No kidding! The actual button broke in half! The adult felt very bad, but I actually thanked him and told him it wasn’t his fault. It was only a matter of time. And that he actually did me a favor! Now they can’t ring the doorbell like crazy people!

However, later that day, they came to the door and knocked. But when I say “knock” it was actually more of a pound. You would have thought that someone was being chased by a crazed person with a chainsaw and desperately need help. Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock…or pound-pound-pound-pound-pound-pound…pause and repeat. You get the idea.

I’d had it! After all, I work at home, and with summer coming up, this can’t continue! So I answered the door, and politely but sternly, demonstrated how to properly knock on a door. Another parent happened to be standing in front of their house (the one whose kid is the main perpetrator), and backed me up. He also offered to repair my doorbell.

We haven’t had any obnoxious knockers since. Sometimes I think kids just need to be reminded of good manners, or be taught in the first place. Wish me luck over the summer.

Oh, and I don’t plan on fixing my doorbell anytime soon.

Let It Go…Again

Let It Go.

It’s not just an overplayed Disney song (my apologies if you’re singing it now), it should be a way of life.

I am guilty of obsessing over trying to fix things that I may not be able to fix. I spent my morning doing just that.

Ever since my husband’s employment status changed last year, our income took a hit. We were living comfortably until then. Not richly, but comfortably. Taking a vacation was not out of the equation. Paying for the unexpected car repair wasn’t a choice between eating steak or ground round. Fortunately he found work within two months, but at a significant pay cut. And we feel it.

I can easily fall into the trap of juggling numbers and stressing over bills, and trying to pay for the dentist bill, the cable bill, and our children’s college all at once. By the way, my oldest won’t start college for 4 more years, but that won’t stop me from pretending that Rush Week starts on Monday.

I could get two more jobs, reinvent myself, put the kids to work (not really), or I could keep on trucking. I mean, we aren’t poor by any measure. We get by just fine, it’s just that the budget is tight and we have to account for every penny. Mostly that’s because of my own fear. I’m the penny pincher. My husband is much more relaxed about our provisions than I am. But I think that’s the difference in our personalities.

That’s where Elsa’s song comes to mind. But before Elsa knew to sing about letting your fears go, Jesus knew it. In fact, he instructs us to do it. He wants us to come to Him and lay our burdens at His feet. So why does it take me so long to figure it out? Why do I let it go only to pick it right back up again?

I think it happens most often when I’m not walking beside Him. When I’m not seeking Him daily. When I don’t hear His voice in my ear, then I tend to fill it in with my own voice. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that my voice can NEVER replace God’s. But isn’t that exactly what I’m doing while I’m obsessing and stressing? I just need to trust, to listen, to let go and let God.

I need to work on that. What things in your life do you keep picking up that you really should let go?