Conversations with a 2 (almost 3) year old (2nd in a series)

The little darling will be 3 two weeks from Saturday (my Epiphany baby!), and has yet to really sit on the potty, let alone do anything in the potty. The pressure from the in-laws is really heating up to get this taken care of. Hey, it's not my fault he seems scared of the thing. Really, when you step back and look at either the potty chair or the 'big person' toilet, they don't look all that appealing. I can't really blame him for not wanting any part of it. But he is really at the age now that we should be making the attempt to get him interested (although I've decided we're just going to have to resort to bribery), so I try to introduce the topic, and things related to the topic, as often as possible.

At 40 inches, he's too tall now to lay comfortably on the changing table. He's gotten into the habit of propping himself up on his elbows when he's on the table, so that his head doesn't hang over the edge, and he's very casual about looking down to watch you go about the business of changing his diaper. This happened the other day, and I thought 'What the heck'

Me: "W.T., this is your penis. This is where your pee pee comes from. When Daddy was little, he called it his 'pee-pee tail'."

W.T.: "Penis," he repeats, as he jiggles his knees back and forth, fascinated by how it moves.

Me: (In my best proud-Mommy voice) "Yes! Very good!"

Fast-forward a few days to Christmas Eve. I spent the afternoon with my best friend, hanging out, exchanging gifts and all that. The husband calls on the cell phone, sounding a little shaken. He'd taken a shower. When he got out, he realized there wasn't any clean underwear, so he'd thrown some in the wash and was waiting for it to dry. In general, this is not an uncommon occurrence; it happens to everyone. What makes this a unique situation with my husband is that he will walk around un-clothed (but WITH socks on - I know, probably more than you wanted to know...) until the clean skivvies are ready...

Him: "... so I was sitting at the computer..."

Me: "You were sitting naked in the chair at the computer? Did you put a towel down first, or were you sitting directly on the chair?"

Him: "That doesn't matter..."

Me: "Yes it does! I need to know, so I can put a towel on the chair the next time I sit there, if you didn't have one down while you were sitting there!"

Him: "Anyway, I was sitting there, and W.T. came up beside me, pointed at me down there, and said 'pe-nis... tickle, tickle, tickle...' "

These are the moments we'll cherish...

This is the last post on the pink slippers (maybe)

Here they are, ladies and gentlemen. I know you've been dying to get a glimpse of them. Yes, that is the price tag under the black blotch. The marker didn't quite completely cover the cost, so I know that the in-laws spent at least $19.99 on me this year.

The incomparable Rose has agreed to give my battery-powered footwear a good home, so today they were sent on their way to the City of Brotherly Love (that is Philadelphia, right?). During the course of our communication back and forth regarding this, Rose stated "I get looks when I take out the trash in do-me pumps, I can only IMAGINE the admiring glances with these!" Rose, WE WANT TO SEE PICTURES, PLEASE!!

I do actually have some thoughts on the slippers, and what they say about the relationship I have with my in-laws... but I'm tired, and the alarm starts buzzing at 5:30am. So for now, you'll have to be satisfied with the picture.

Deja Vu, part deux (see below)

At least...  at least this year's vibrating slippers are a nice, girly shade of pink, so I can feel like a princess while my anxieties are being massaged away by battery-operated faux suede...

Deja Vu

Dinner is over. The dishes are cleared. The ham was a big success, and dessert is coming soon.

The presents are unwrapped, and the husband is installing batteries in the little boy's new toys as we speak.

I just can't build it up any further. I can't make you wait for the climax of this post...

I shit you not, I got ANOTHER pair of VIBRATING SLIPPERS this year. Last year, they came from my brother-in-law and his wife; this year, they came from my father-in-law and his wife

What IS IT with these people?

From our little corner of the world to yours, may your holidays be filled with...

... peace

.... love

... joy

... happiness

Now and in the new year.

I am evil.

Most of you already know that, because I don't want to drag a 3-year old over the river and through the woods (... no, wait... that's Thanksgiving, isn't it?), I told the in-laws we'd have the annual Christmas gathering at our house this year. Obviously, this was not a lucid moment.

I am off work today (the last precious vacation day until they start piling up again on Jan 2, 2007), and have to go fight the crowds at the Super Wal-mart for groceries, after my doctors appt.

Oh... my... God.

What was I thinking???

Why am I evil? Last night, laying in bed, I thought "I wonder what would happen to all of them if I loaded up the macaroni and cheese with some of the Fiber-sure powder stuff you can buy now? (Because if this plan was executed, I, of course, would not be partaking of the macaroni & cheese, which wouldn't be suspicious because I'm diabetic, after all, and mac & cheese is loaded with carbs.) Or maybe a laxative?" But then they would think it was my cooking, and I can't have them thinking I'm a terrible cook.

I bet they wouldn't come back, though...

Sorry about the Day-glo green

Blogger Beta (why did I 'upgrade' to that again?) didn't like the purple and orange, something about my html tags not being proper (oh my!), which is far beyond my computer-comprehension.

 

I'm working on something better (hopefully).

 

I, personally, wouldn't mind the green, if it weren't for the huge side-margins.  That wasted space just drives me ape-shit.

 

Until then, complimentary sunglasses will be distributed for those of you faithful enough to continue reading.

 

Ciao

Fw: ANNA is online now, waiting for your reply, Russian dating

It's always an adventure, coming to work Monday morning and reading the e-mails that have come in over the weekend....

----- Forwarded by Ruth/Casa de Insurance/US on 12/18/2006 08:10 AM -----

"ANNA Pavlova" <ilmanagista@virgilio.it> 12/15/2006 05:38 PM

To mailto:Ruth@Casa cc Subject ANNA is online now, waiting for your reply, Russian dating

hello there! Id like to tell a a little about myself. By character I am sensitive, romantic, sometimes passionate, sometimes down-to-earth, serious and playful with a great sense of humor and a loving heart. I believe in miracle and think we should be sensitive to beautiful moments in life. I am kind, tolerant to people, understanding and never hypocritical. I am very active, young lady loving life and
everything that surrounds me every day. If you like sport, be ready for an active life with hiking, camping, swimming. I love music and dancing. Most of all I value decency in a man, his hearfulness, his ability to understand, to be trustworthy in relationship. I feel that only kind, caring and reliable, sincere and faithful man able to win my heart. He should have decent heart and a bright sense of humor, similarity
of interests and having something more to show me. Partnership is the main principle for me, where both of the partners support, understand and complete each other. I am sure it'll make our relationship strong and successful for many more years.

May I ask few questions to you, if you're interested in me?
1) What are you searching for in a woman who's next to you?
2) What are your plans about visiting Russia?
3) Do you prefer to have correspondence or to have a talk by the phone?
4) Do you want to build a family and what is the most important thing for you in building it?
5) Are you ready to start something new with me?

Please, I am waiting for your response to

admin@messagevillesite.info

What do you think about it?
ANNA

I promised myself when I started this blog that I wasn’t going to turn it into a big, whiny rant about how much weight I have to lose, and how hard it is to lose it. Let’s face it… you don’t want to read that, because you probably don’t really care (and it’s okay to admit that, you won’t hurt my feelings), and I don’t want to write about it (most of the time), because I’m sick of even thinking about it.

But here’s the thing…

I’m fat.

There. I said it. I am long-past ‘chubby’, ‘full-figured’, or ‘pleasingly plump’. It’s out in the open for the world now to see, and I can’t take it back.

I don’t make excuses for my fatness. I don’t blame others. I joke about my fatness. I dress appropriately for my size; you will never see me in a belly shirt or hip-hugger jeans. I own my fatness, and you won’t ever see me on the news, suing McDonald’s because I can’t stay away from the bacon, egg & cheese bagel they serve for breakfast now.

I don’t mean to belabor the point, but just so there’s no mistake:

• I am not fat because I feel as if my 16 year old birth-mother ‘rejected’ me by surrendering me for adoption when I was an infant (because I don’t).
• I am not fat because my (adopted) mother had serious psychological problems, which led to her having three nervous breakdowns during her lifetime.
• I am not fat because my father never had tea parties with me while I was growing up.
• I am not fat because I didn’t get a ‘Chatty-Cathy’ doll for Christmas when I was 6.
• I am not fat because no one asked me to the Homecoming dance in 10th grade.
• I am not fat because my brother seems to have forgotten that I exist.

If you’ve ever had a weight problem, or maybe even if you haven’t, then you’ll understand when I say that I’ve always had a magic number in my head; that number that I use to tell myself ‘Well, as long as I don’t weigh this much, I’m fine.’ Thanks to the miracle of losing – gaining – losing – gaining, I’ve hit that magic number more than once. Believe me; I am not proud of or happy about this fact.

The simple fact of the matter is:

• I am fat because I snuck food into my room as a child.
• I am fat because, while working at McDonald’s as a teenager, I took full advantage out of the fact that I could eat there for free while I was working.
• I am fat because I haven’t taken proper care of myself as an adult.
• I am fat because I indulge myself.

I’ve heard it all…

“But you have such a pretty face.” (Give me a nickel for every time this one has come up…)
“You’d be so much prettier if you’d reduce.” (A direct quote from my great-grandmother when I was little… no love lost there when she died my freshman year of high-school.)
“Ruth, are you pregnant?” (At my mother’s funeral, just 2 months after I’d gotten married, from a close family friend, to which I responded “No, Mrs. Hamilton, I’m just fat.”)
“You just wouldn’t be the same you if you were thin!” (From a woman at my church that I’ve known all my life.)

Why do people think that it’s okay, that it’s acceptable, to say things like this to someone that’s overweight? In case anyone is wondering, it’s not. I’d never dream of going up to an ugly person and saying “You just wouldn’t be the same you if you were attractive!” Just so you know.

As comfortable as I am with my size, there is a thin girl inside me, screaming to be let free. I’ve dieted. I’ve taken pills. I’ve gone to Weight Watchers. I used to have a membership to a women-only health club, and to the YMCA. I’ve gone to aerobics class. I own Richard Simmons’ Disco Sweat video. I even went through a little binge-purge phase (which obviously had no affect). I look around me, especially at the people I work with, and see so many people that have had ‘the surgery’, and they all look great. Top that off with finding out that 1) the insurance would cover it and 2) they can do the surgery by laparoscopy (so no big, ugly scar) makes it a very tempting possibility. About an hour of surgery and the pounds would just melt away. Instant results… instant gratification… a whole new wardrobe, just from the ‘thin’ clothes already hanging in the closet… no endless hours on the treadmill… no constant thought about what I’m going to put in my mouth next…

But I can’t.

Because for me, it would be a cop-out. For me, it would be giving up. It would be admitting defeat. It would mean that the fat girl won. This battle has been raging for 37 years now, but I’m just not ready to let her win.

I’ve lost weight before. I know I can do it again. I know I can summon the willpower to start the fight anew (cue the theme from ‘Rocky’ here). When I let myself really think about it, I find that I’m scared to start this whole process again.

I lost weight before, then my mom died, and it all came back and then some.

I lost weight again, after being diagnosed with the Diabetes, and then I got pregnant and had a baby. Ironically, it wasn’t until after my son was born that I really started to gain the weight back.

And each time the weight comes back, there’s even more of it. So I start again, and the weight starts to come off… what’s going to happen this time, to make it all come back? What am I going to lose? Who am I going to lose? What great catastrophe will flash down from above on the end of a lightning bolt to shake up my world this time? The thought scares me.

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm afraid to let the thin girl out. There's a whole other world of things that thins girls have to deal with. Being fat means being safe. Being fat means being able to fly under the radar, because people don't pay much attention to the fat girls.

I have to let that thought go; I can’t let it stop me from finally doing what I need to do… for myself, and for my son, so that I can at least see him graduate from high school.

So here I go. Back to endless hours on the treadmill (which I’m still considering trading in for a stationary bike). Back to keeping a diary of everything that goes in my mouth, because that’s the only way I’ll be honest with myself about what I’m eating. Back to being so strict with myself that it irritates the husband.

All so the thin girl can be set free.

All because I won’t let myself take the easy way out.



Anyone want some carrots?

The Christmas spirit, I think is sssssllllllooooowwwwwlllllyyyyyy starting to seep into the house of Ruth (although I still probably won't be sending out cards).

About a month ago, I caught myself saying to my father-in-law "We thought we'd have Christmas dinner for everyone at our house this year!" Granted, there are only 6 of us, plus the boy, so it's not too large of a gathering. As the day looms ever-closer, though, I'm plagued with the thought of "What the hell was I thinking???"

The tree has been finished for about an hour, and the boy has already gotten time out for trying to pull the lights off.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...."

I had the privilege tonight of talking to Rose (did we really talk for an hour?!?!) We've been talking about talking for a while now, but here's the thing...

I'm so shy, I'm almost backwards. It's one thing to post these entries, when I can write and edit and write some more, and make sure it's just so and perfect before it gets thrown out there for the world to see. It's another matter altogether, though, to speak to someone face-to-face, or phone-to-phone, where there's no delete button, or backspace key, and when stopping to collect a thought might come across as an awkward pause in conversation. I agonized all afternoon, as the husband and I finished the Christmas shopping, about whether or not I should call. I drove him insane chattering on and on about it, but he just kept calmly responding 'What's the big deal? Just call her when we get home.'

So I picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed. It might sound silly, but for me, calling someone who for all purposes is a stranger is like bungee jumping, or pushing the speedometer needle of my car up past 75 mph, or driving through the bad part of town. I'm not a risk taker at all, and I don't make friends easily because I'm just not that comfortable with myself. I don't like to draw attention to myself. I like to fly under the radar if at all possible.

I don't say these things to pump myself up, or to make it sound as if Rose should feel lucky and grateful that I deigned to spend an hour of my evening with her. Not at all.

When we said our goodbyes, I couldn't believe that we'd talked for just over an hour. Forgive me for sounding cliche, but we both agreed that it was like starting a conversation in the middle. I didn't feel awkward at all, which is really saying something for me. It was, I thought, a great conversation; one that was long overdue.

And I hope it won't be the last one.

So thanks, Rose. The first thing the husband said when I hung up the phone was 'See, I told you it would be fine.' I hate it when he knows he's right about something. I hope you had a good time dancing tonight. I hope when you got home, there wasn't a message waiting from the Va Va Voom, calling you into work for tomorrow morning. And if there was, and you go, I hope the patrons are kind. I hope the last vestiges of your cold are gone soon. I hope Santa leaves those thigh-high boots under the tree (I give you tremendous credit for having the chutzpah, and the balance, to be able to walk in those!).

I'm giving serious thought now to replacing my treadmill with a stationary bike (As a start. My ass will have to be considerably smaller before you see me out on the trail!). I'll let you know how that turns out.

Fwd: Fw: Happy Sign-Off Day

The system testing that we do here at the Casa de Insurance runs in cycles of anywhere from four to six weeks for a project, which means that every four to six weeks we have a big deadline for the projects we're working on, and have to send an official sign off, saying that all our testing has been completed.

 

It's really not as glamourous as I make it sound.

 

Today is the last sign off for 2006 at the Casa de Insurance.  Below is an email that our department director  (ie. my bosses boss) sent this morning.  While it may look like a sincere expression of his gratitude and thanks, I think it's important to know that many of us have little to no respect for this man, because he's stabbed quite a few people directly between the shoulder blades in the short time he's been our director.

 

The gagging echoed across the cubicles as everyone opened and read it.

 

I don't think Dec 7 has officially  been declared 'National Hug a Tester' Day, but I'll keep you posted.

 

PS.  Extra points to anyone who can pick out the two typos in the note...

 

 

Happy Sign-Off Day!

Well this release has been a challenge from the beginning. System downtime, resource issues, the changing of a test lead, a Saturday push-day, and projects twinkling RED and GREEN (to remind us of the upcoming holiday season) have pushed many of us to a point well passed stressed out. You have identified over 400 defects! Each of those are important and each prevents production problems and potential clean-ups. That is the value that each of you bring!

Well today is the day when all of YOUR hard work culminates. I just wanted to thank all of you for all of your efforts and dedication. As always, you pulled of what looked impossible. I appreciate everything each of you have done, Testers and Non-Testers alike.

December 7th is National "Hug A Tester Day"!

Thank you!
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Mr Big

Director of Quality Services, BPMO
Casa de Insurance

Sickness has descended upon our house.

 

First my son.

 

Then my husband.

 

Now me.

 

Congestion.  Cough.  Aches.  Pains.  It started in my head, and has now moved to my chest.

 

Ugh.

 

More posting when I'm healthy.