tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28826061562120775502024-03-13T21:23:19.381-07:00Insta-Mom: Just Add MarriageLady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-35157004192122164252017-07-26T10:17:00.000-07:002017-07-26T10:17:04.664-07:00Will the Real Celine Please Stand Up - Talking BipolorI'm sitting here, trying to think of a clever title for this post, and like with everything it seems lately, I just can't find the will to put forth the effort.<br />
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My brain is jumping around, and I'm trying to find a good starting point to branch off on. I have a million thoughts running around in this mind of mine, and I can't seem to find one to truly grasp and run with. I can't say my brain has felt quite this chaotic since starting on Lithium a few months ago.<br />
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Ahhh, Lithium. I guess we can start there. I was recently diagnosed with Rapid Cycling <a href="http://isites.harvard.edu/fs/docs/icb.topic1115542.files/Neuro_Readings/Bipolar_Disorder.pdf" target="_blank">Bipolar</a> II Disorder. Long story short, I cycle through happier than normal moods and depressive moods faster than most people, and the depressive moods can have a large impact on my personal relationships, overall productivity, and sense of worth. There is no cure for bipolar disorder, just treatment and maintenance. I was prescribed <a href="http://www.mayoclinic.org/drugs-supplements/lithium-oral-route/description/drg-20064603" target="_blank">Lithium</a>, a drug commonly used to treat my disorder. It's actually a naturally occurring salt, and it used to be sold on store selves until people started to overdose on it. You see, since it's a salt, you have to make sure you're staying hydrated while taking it, and you also have to use regular table salt on your food because your body can confuse Lithium for the regular stuff, hoard it, and cause you to overdose on it that way. No low salt diet for this gal! Lithium is supposed to help me stay more level, "normal" if you will, and for the most part it works... but not always.<br />
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I've been feeling pretty okay on Lithium. I'm on a fairly low dose, BARELY in the therapeutic range that medical professionals claim you should be in, but if I take any more than what I am currently on, I am no better than a zombie. I can fake my way through a work day, but once I get home the exhaustion overcomes me and I could pass out on the living room floor while my three year old, two year old, and 10 month old crawl over my snoring body. Not feeling like a steaming pile of shit is great, but not at the cost of being unable to function and care for my kids, so low dose it is. And it works. Until my period starts.<br />
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I haven't been taking Lithium very long, just for a few months, but long enough to notice that once my period roles around, I might as well not even be taking the Lithium, and I become very stressed and depressed. Lithium can't seem to combat the hormones my body releases during my period, and I'm left feeling so low I don't even want to get out of my bed. I simply want to pull the covers over me and pretend the world does not exist, and sleep for days because if I'm asleep, I don't have to deal with anything, anyone, or myself. I become easily irritable, get angry at the drop of a hat (and know I'm being unfair in my anger which causes me to feel like a horrible person, which in turn makes me angrier), dwell on every little thing in my life that I feel is unfair, and overall hate who I am and wonder why anyone puts up with me and wouldn't blame them for leaving me. It's got me wondering if maybe my psychiatrist doesn't need to also put me on another medication, or if we need to experiment with me upping my Lithium levels during my period. Because this person I am right now? She needs to go.<br />
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I have a lot of stressors in my life, I do. I don't think anyone can deny that. I have a LOT on my plate on the daily. Not only am I raising three very young boys of my own, I'm also raising two teenagers part of the time and coordinating between two households, trying to maintain the peace and get everyone to co-parent without undermining either house, plus working full-time, trying to avoid falling into crippling debt, keep my household from falling down around my ears, and do all the other million and one things that come with being an adult, a wife, and a mother. I need to be able to manage my stress, not have my stress manage me, which means I need treatments that work.<br />
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I also think I need to find more time to write. It's so incredibly hard to find the time without having to sacrifice something somewhere else, but I enjoy it. It makes me feel better. It helps reduce some of the chaos in my mind because I don't have all the words racing around up there looking for somewhere to go, constantly shouting at me until I acknowledge them. That may not make sense to a lot of you, but it will make perfect sense to some of you.<br />
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I feel a bit better having gotten this down. Thanks for reading.<br />
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~ CelineLady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-21233320437229053442016-12-04T21:43:00.001-08:002016-12-04T21:44:07.613-08:00Santa doesn't stop here, and that's okay<p dir="ltr">I think I was about 8 or 9 years old when I learned the truth about Santa Claus. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I was spending time with my father, running errands around town, when we stopped in at a Radio Shack. My dad struck up a conversation with the clerk, and he brought up the fact that he'd bought a kareoke machine from that location the previous year, how the family was liking it, etc. Now, I'd already had some suspicions about the legitimacy of Ol' Saint Nick, but my fathers casual conversation that day sealed the deal. We'd been told the karaoke machine came from Santa, now I knew the truth. When I confronted my dad once we'd returned to the car, all he could say was, "Don't tell your sisters."</p>
<p dir="ltr">Whether or not I'd tell my kids there is a Santa Claus never really crossed my mind until I became a parent. By the time I married my husband, my bonus kids pretty much already knew he didn't exist, so it wasn't something I had to deal with. Then I gave birth to my first child, and when that first Christmas rolled around, I realized that whether or not Santa existed in our home was a choice I was going to have to make someday, and that it was something I was going to need to really think about.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I don't recall feeling devastated when I found out about Santa. As I said, I'd already had my suspicions, and finding out the truth about the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy quickly followed. When I confided in my older sister, I learned she'd pretty much come to the same conclusions I'd had, and neither of us were too upset. I do vividly recall however how inconsolable my little sister was when she found out about the Easter Bunny. Why my mother chose to tell her in the middle of Kmart I've no idea, but the stares of passersby as she tried to calm my sisters heartbroken cries likely caused her to quickly regret that decision. The truth about Santa soon followed, accompanied by more heartache.</p>
<p dir="ltr">As my two year olds third Christmas quickly approaches, I've found myself contemplating more and more on whether or not I will tell my boys there is a Santa. When I mentioned to my father that I didn't think I would do things like Santa, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy with my kids, I got a roll of the eyes and a shake of the head as a response. Guess I know his thoughts.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I spoke with my husband today and finally voiced what is in my heart. I don't want Santa for my sons. Why? The reason really boils down to this: I don't want to lie to my kids. I don't want the heartbreak they may suffer from finding a beloved idea is a work of fiction, and I don't want the betrayal they may feel knowing mommy and daddy intentionally told them something that wasn't true. There may be times in my life where lying to my kids may be my only option (though I certainly hope that is never the case), but this isn't one of those times. I am in no way judging any parents who choose to tell their children Santa exists, its just not something I feel I can do.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I didn't arrive at this decision lightly. I want my kids to enjoy the magic of the season and the wonder this time of year can bring. I want Christmas to be a time of love, laughter, and special moments, and I believe that can be accomplished without the assistance of Mr. Claus. I took into consideration my sisters heartbreak, my daughter telling me how upset and betrayed she felt upon learning the truth, and stories from friends about how their children reacted when they were told. I thought about how some kids get expensive gifts from the man in red, how some get clothes, and how some get "forgotten". I fought with myself, on the other handed, hemmed and hawed, and in the end kept coming back to the same conclusion. Sorry Santa, but ya gotta go.</p>
<p dir="ltr">My sons will be raised without Father Christmas, but they will also be raised to not ruin Santa for the children who do believe. I remember fighting as a child with a friend whose family didn't believe in Santa, vehemently insisting my parents wouldn't lie to me, as they just as passionately insisted he didn't exist, and there's no need for that. Just because he's not right for us, doesn't mean he's not right for someone else's home. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Santa won't be leaving any gifts under our tree this year, or any year. We will still sing songs about him, watch Santa themed movies, and maybe even take photos at the mall because I do think it's part of the fun. Just as dragons and faeries are fun to pretend, so is Santa. But he doesn't have to be real for us to have a merry Christmas.</p>
Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-79168909339491573572016-08-02T11:52:00.001-07:002016-08-02T19:52:08.128-07:00I swear, I used to be funnyThis morning, as I once again used Twitter as a sound board to vent my frustrations, I thought to myself, "Dammit, I used to be funny! I used to have people tell me they couldn't WAIT to read my thoughts on the day or about the things that happened to me that I made sound like an epic adventure. Now all I do is whine and complain, what happened?"<br />
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Truth is, I'm not sure. At some point in the last three to four years, I've slowly turned more and more into a whiny, cantankerous witch, and I don't like it. I tell myself I don't like it, I tell myself I'm going to change, I try to be more positive for a few days, then something happens and there I go again, complaining like a two year old that was told I can't have a popsicle for lunch.<br />
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Granted, a LOT has happened to me in the last few years. I moved out of my fathers house and into a rental home (which my dad owns), got married and instantly became a mother to three kids, became pregnant with my first child (and have basically been pregnant non-stop since then with 6 month gaps between kids), bought my first car, had two of my step kids move back with their mom, lost multiple sources of income, and ultimately lost my job due to massive lay-offs, which has lead to us going on WIC and will likely eventually have to apply for food stamps because I cant seem to figure out how to support my household on $300 a month and still pay all our bills, and there's no point in trying to get another job because I've got three kids under three come September, and with the cost of childcare I'd have to earn above minimum wage and work full time, and my local economy can't offer a job like that. So, yeah, a lot.<br />
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With all that living and learning and losing and stressing in the last few years, I've also lost a lot of what made me... me. I used to sing, draw, take photos, write, go on spur of the moment adventures, do things just because, and tried to live life to the fullest. Now my life revolves around my husband and my kids, and the most exciting thing I do all day is play, "Guess what died in the sippy cup" and "Dear God, what's under the couch?!" and man, it's hard! I love my kids, wouldn't change having gotten married and becoming a mother for the world, but I have moments where I dream about what it would be like to have my "old life" back for just a moment, and then I deal with the guilt that inevitably comes with even thinking those thoughts.<br />
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Speaking of guilt, I never realized just how much GUILT comes with being a mother before I became one. It's ridiculous! You feel guilty for every little thing, even something as simple as taking a five minute shower by yourself can induce guilt because you're kids start crying as soon as they realize they can't "play in the water" with you. Heaven forbid you close the bathroom door to take a poo. The sounds coming from your kids of utter abandonment are enough to make you feel like you've committed an unforgivable sin. And now I'm writing this blog post one handed because my teething one year old needs me to hold him, and my two year old is using some toy as a "hungry monster" trying to eat my shirt, so I should probably take the hint and wrap this up.<br />
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The conclusion to all this is, well, I guess there isn't one. I'll try to be more positive and I'll inevitable find something new to whine about in a few days (if not this evening). It's been hard to find out who I am since I got married, because my entire sense of self has revolved around either my family or my job, and now I'm a stay at home mom and my days revolve around little Napoleons and I don't see that ending any time soon. My husband bless his heart tries to help me and wouldn't deny me a night out or a hobby, but that just revolves back to that whole "guilt" thing again. Is there a happy medium for me? Who knows, guess I'll have to keep trying to find out.Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-86200656465613131522016-03-24T22:01:00.001-07:002016-03-24T22:01:58.028-07:00Invisible Scars<i>“It is not the the bruises on the body that hurt. It is the wounds of the heart and the scars on the mind.”</i> <br />―<b> <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7824043.Aisha_Mirza">Aisha Mirza</a></b><br /><i><br />“The past is behind us," said Boudicca,"but the difficulty there is we keep looking over our shoulders.</i>” <br />― <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4557121.Michelle_Franklin"><b>Michelle Franklin</b></a><br /><br /><br />I am a child of abuse.<br /><br />There. I said it. I've touched on it over the years, mentioned it to friends here and there, but I've never actually said the words.<br /><br />I often downplay the abuse in my mind, tell myself it was nothing compared to what others have experienced, that I shouldn't really talk about it, that it was "normal", that there's no point in bringing up the "sins" of the dead, etc.<br /><br />But it affects every single day of my life. It affects how I view myself as a person, as a mother. It's the vicious voice in my head that tells me I'm not good enough. It is the voice of my mother, a person who should have protected me, not hurt me.<br /><br />My mother... well, she had a lot of demons. She herself was the child of abuse. She was often verbally and emotionally abused, was beaten, and came from a broken home. She married very young in an effort to escape an abusive father (who likely came from a long line of abusers based on the stories I've heard of his childhood), only to end up in an unhappy first marriage that resulted in a divorce. She suffered a miscarriage during her life and buried another child. She also suffered from a multitude of health problems which required a variety of medications that slowly killed her in some ways while keeping her alive in others, and which ended up ultimately contributing to her sudden death.<br /><br />None of the items above excuse my mother from the abuse she put myself and my sisters through (my brother has never spoken of any abuse, and he had left the home by the time I can remember the abuse starting, which is why he's not mentioned), but they have helped me work towards forgiving her over the years. I love her and in ways I miss her, and I no longer blame her for the things she said and did. I don't even blame my grandfather anymore, though I did for years after her death (and the comments he made about her RIGHT after we left the hospital where she'd been pronounced dead only fed that blame), but I still live with invisible scars. Forgiveness does not always equal healing.<br /><br />A few instances of abuse from my childhood stick out quite vividly in my mind... The time I told her I wanted to go to a public school (I was home-schooled partly due to my mothers health issues) and how ANGRY she became. She called me names, recited a cruel rhyme of, "Fatty fatty two-by-four, can't get through the kitchen door" that she heard in her childhood and told me that is what I'd hear in school because of my weight, and verbally abused me throughout that day. My older sister (who often was a target of my mothers abuse) urged me to apologize, to tell our mother that I didn't mean it, that we make her a cup of tea as a peace offering and try to sooth her anger. <br />The time she'd gotten angry at me for some reason I can't recall, and said to me that she'd found items in my room that, "Shocked her as to the kind of person that I was.". That ate at me for the longest time until I finally had the nerve to ask her what she could have possibly found that caused her to be so repulsed by me. Her response? "Oh, I don't know. I likely just said it to hurt you.". My mother often said cruel things just for the sake of being cruel, and I can't ever recall a time where she apologized for it.<br />The time she slapped me because I "looked" at her wrong.<br />The time she screamed at and punished me because I didn't freeze some spaghetti sauce that I didn't know I was supposed to freeze.<br />The time I stood between her and my older sister as she held a belt, and she threatened to let our dogs out, and that it would be my fault because I made her do it.<br />The time she screamed at and said horrible things to me because I refused to give her a large bowl of ice cream, regardless that my reason was because she was diabetic and I felt I was contributing to what would be her eventual death by giving in to her commands (when she died I felt extreme guilt over not standing up to her more often when she'd ask me to do things that I knew would harm her. I felt like I'd killed her because I was too much of a coward to say no).<br />Getting yelled at because I didn't put the paper towel or toilet paper roll on the "right" way, or not folding the towels correctly.<br />The time I stood in the way when she was going to force my older sister to pick up dog poop with her bare hands and I managed to at least get her to be able to wear gloves when I couldn't make the punishment stop completely.<br />That my mother let me physically and emotionally abuse my older sister and let me think it was normal because I saw my mother do it, that I was encouraged to do it, that I didn't realize it was wrong until I overheard my aunt tell my mother that the way I treated my sister was wrong and my mother told her to butt out, and the guilt I feel over my actions to this day.<br /><br />Why am I writing this? Why am I talking about this? Because. Because my childhood affects me every day. Because I live in fear that the abuse won't end with me. Because I contemplated suicide as a teenager because of it and the only thing that stopped me as I held that bottle of sleeping pills in my hand was the fear of going to hell. Because I'm terrified every time I become frustrated with my children that I will turn into my mother. Because I second guess myself constantly as a parent on whether I'm being fair or if I'm being cruel when it comes to punishment. Because the voice I hear that feeds my poor self esteem and fear of failure is my mothers and I don't know how to make it stop. Because I tell myself NOT to talk about it, that it doesn't matter, that I'm just whining and I should shut up. Because abuse is abuse, no matter it's shape or form.<br /><br />The abuse I suffered as a child is something I have to live with and work through every day. It has shaped who I am as a person. The pain from abuse lingers long after the abuse has ended. Our words and actions leave lasting imprints on those around us, and we need to be mindful of this fact. <br /><br />I am a child of abuse. I am a fighter. I am a survivor. I want a better life for my children, my family, and myself. I want the abuse to end with me. I never want my children to ever feel what I have felt. I don't want my brokenness to break them. I don't want history to repeat itself.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I want to be free.Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-26220739384612572402015-07-26T20:06:00.001-07:002015-07-26T21:05:18.008-07:00Tonight I'll CryTonight, tonight I'll cry. Tonight motherhood has brought me to tears. <div><br></div><div>It started off as such a nice afternoon. The boys were happy and content. The baby was cooing in his swing and I was snuggling my toddler as we watched <b>Veggie Tales: Lord of the Bean</b>. It was idilic really, so picture perfect that I'd even snapped a photo of it to share on Instagram. As soon as the movie was over though, it all just started to go down hill.</div><div><br></div><div>The baby started crying and just wouldn't stop. The toddler wouldn't listen no matter how many times I told him no, pulled him away from whatever havoc he was causing, or put him into time out. I had no relief as my husband was at work and my step kids are with their mother. I was at my wits end trying to sooth the baby and stop my toddler from the trouble he was getting in to that I snapped, and I yelled at my son. I don't yell at my kids, and as soon as the anger fueled words left my mouth and he teared up, I felt like a horrible person. I sounded like my mother, and in that moment I felt like a failure.</div><div><br></div><div>You see, I grew up with a mother that always yelled. She went from 0 to 60 when she got angry, and she could get mean. My mom wasn't physically abusive (I don't consider spanking abuse, though I may have been spanked more than was necessary), but she could get verbally abusive. She'd say things just to wound you, and even admitted that to me at one point in my life. It's kinda heart shattering as a kid to hear your mom tell you that she would say cruel, untrue things to you just because she wanted to hurt you. She grew up in an abusive household which in turn caused her to be abusive. She passed away due to chronic health issues when I was 14 and I swore to myself that the abusive cycle would stop with me. I love my mom, and have worked over the years on forgiving but not forgetting, so I don't make the same mistakes.</div><div><br></div><div>After yelling at my child, I once again put him in time out, picked up the baby in an attempt to quiet his tears, and burst into tears myself. I often feel like a failure as a mother, and wish I had someone to lean on for support or relief that understands my background. I don't have any women in my family who knew my mom that are close enough to turn to, and I don't think they knew that side of my mother anyway and therefor can't understand the fear I have whenever I react to my children from anger. I know it sure came as a surprise to my father when my sisters and I finally told him about the verbal abuse we suffered, and I often wish we hadn't as he feels extreme guilt over his ignorance. I hardly talk to my older sister due to a toxic relationship, and my younger sister doesn't have children and has enough issues of her own. </div><div><br></div><div>With my tears there was also a deep sense of isolation. I never realized before I had children just how lonely motherhood can be. I feel as if I am no longer close to any of the female friends I had before I got married and became a mother, and I haven't made any new friends as my family takes up any available time I have outside of work. I can't recall the last time I took a night off to have a "Girls Night Out", and even if/when I have the time, my friends lead very busy lives of their own and our schedules just don't match. Since I haven't seen or talked to my friends in so long, on nights like tonight when I desperately long for someone to talk to I feel as if I have no one. I don't have the energy to fill someone in on the last few months of my life when I need to cry abut the here and now. Besides, they've got enough going as it is.</div><div><br></div><div>The toddler is now in bed, having been put there early and without a story after mommy explained why he was being punished for the umpteenth time tonight, and the baby is sleeping on my chest as I type this from my phone. I know I will have many nights such as this in the years to come, and I will need to forgive myself and move on every time I feel like I've failed, which will be often. And I know there will be times I will have to leave the forgiveness to God, because I will not be able to find it within myself. He has entrusted me with these precious gifts and I can't... I WON'T, fail them.</div><div><br></div><div>But tonight? Tonight I'll cry.</div><div><br></div><div>~ Lady A</div>Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-86966659403250730752015-07-13T16:27:00.001-07:002015-07-13T21:25:40.176-07:00When I Grow UpI was scrolling through Facebook today and came across a <b>Buzzfeed</b> video that is part of their <b>Teens</b> <b>React</b> series. The subject of the video is that they gave a stack of encyclopedias to a group of teens, and the teens had no clue what to do with them. At least, that's what the description said. I didn't actually bother to watch. <div><br></div><div>My first reaction to the description was to laugh and think, "I'd know what to do with them." My second reaction was, "Of course we'd know what to do with them. We are almost thirty, we left our teen years a long time ago."</div><div><br></div><div>You see, my first reaction came from a portion of my brain/personality that refuses to move past 19. Not 13, not 16, not 21, but 19. Why 19, and how do I know with such certainty? I don't know. I can't say any significant life event took place at 19, at least not that I recall. Maybe it's because it was my last year as a teenager, the year before I became a "real adult".</div><div><br></div><div>I both hate and love this part of me.</div><div><br></div><div>I hate it because this is the part of my personality that doesn't like to take responsibility for things, the part that throws tantrums when I'm too tired, the part that holds me back, the part that always chooses "flight" when things get too scary or hard...</div><div><br></div><div>Yet I love this part of my personality because it's "fun". It allows me to get on the same level as my teen and pre-teen, that gives me permission to act like a complete goofball and have fun with my kids, the part that feels no shame when I make a fool of myself, as long as I have a good time while doing it.</div><div><br></div><div>It can be hard trying to find the balance between my "mature" side, and the 19 year old side. At times it feels like they are at war with each other, the desires of the youth conflicting with the practicality of the women. I suppose it can be compared to the Angel and the Devil that sit on your shoulder, you're not quite sure who to listen to.</div><div><br></div><div>I think that the 19 year old version of me will always be around, and while at times it annoys the heck out of me, I know I'd miss it if that part of me ever went away. Hell, there are moments I wish my mature side would step to the curb and let it take control. </div><div><br></div><div>Hopefully someday I can find a happy medium between the two. I have a feeling that when I do, I'll truly feel at peace in my own skin, and with who I am as a person. I'm just not there yet.</div><div><br></div><div>~ Lady A</div>Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-72971988877544908802015-07-12T16:15:00.000-07:002015-07-12T16:19:20.395-07:00Hey Doofenshmirtz, I've got some ideasI've been watching a lot of <i>Phineas and Ferb</i> lately on Netflix, as it seems to be something my toddler enjoys, and it means I don't have to watch <i>Daniel Tiger</i> and <i>Chugginton</i> for the billionth time. If you've never seen <i>Phineas and Ferb</i>, this post may be a bit hard for you to follow, so I'll give you a little background in the second paragraph. It's actually a pretty amusing cartoon even if you DON'T have kids, and sometimes you learn stuff. Because of a catchy little number from <i>Season 2: Episode 3 - Tip of the day</i> (no, I don't have that memorized, I looked it up) I will always remember what that bit at the end of a shoelace is called (extra points if YOU know!).<br />
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<i>Phineas and Ferb</i> generally has two story lines going on at once. The first being that Phineas and Ferb are always inventing new ways to pass the summer days, which usually involves the construction of large and incredible devices. Their sister Candace is always unsuccessfully trying to bust them and expose their crazy inventions to their mother. She always fails at bringing their mother into the light because whatever happens to have been invented that day seems to magically disappear (either by destruction or relocation) right before mom arrives on the scene. The disappearance of their inventions ties into the secondary plot line, that of the never-ending fight between Perry, the crime fighting secret agent platypus (the pet of Phineas and Ferb, who have no clue he leads a double life), and the evil and inept Dr. Doofenshmirtz. Doofenshmirtz is constantly plotting to take over the Tri-State area (using various "evil" inventions, all ending with "inator") where all the characters live. Perry always foils Dr. Doofenshmirtz plans, during which their fights somehow cause any traces of Phineas and Ferbs antics to vanish before they can be exposed. <br />
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Have enough backstory to follow the rest of this post now? Yes? Good. Lets proceed.<br />
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I happen to be a person who can be very sensitive to the moods of those I'm close to, and last night my husband came home tired and annoyed from a long day at work. His mood rubbed off on me, and I began getting overly aggravated over everything. Now I was getting on my OWN nerves, and found myself wishing I could phone up Dr. Doofenshmirtz with a few "inator" ideas of my own. He could use them to take over the Tri-State area, and I could use them on my family! Win Win! My only requirement for the use of my ideas is that I get miniature versions to take home.<br />
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<b>Number 1: "The Good Mood-inator"</b><br />
A fairly simple and I feel self explanatory device. You simply take aim at someone who is in a bad mood, and ZAP!, they are suddenly in a good mood! Doof, buddy, just shoot the Tri-State area with this baby and with everyone now in a good mood, the thought of you taking over the Tri-State area will seem like a great one! It can't fail! I mean, it CAN should Perry decide to show up, but hey, that's your problem.<br />
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<b>Number 2: "The Nap-inator"</b><br />
How brilliant is this one, right? You can use it to put the entire Tri-State area to sleep, and I can use it to get my toddler to go down without a fuss! You take over as supreme ruler while everyone is catching some zzz's, and I can drink a cup of coffee in peace. Sounds good to me!<br />
<br />
<b>Number 3: "The Chore-inator"</b><br />
Just think about how CLEAN your laboratory will be after you shoot Perry with a device that makes him helpless but to do chores! While he's busy cleaning up after your latest fight, you can devote all your focus onto taking over the Tri-State area without interruption! And I can use it on my teenagers so they'll finally start cleaning up after themselves on a regular basis.<br />
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Trust me Doofenshmirtz, with devices like these, you'll have no problem taking over.You'll win the hearts and minds of all the parents in entire Tri-State area, and that's most of the battle right there! So, what do you say, do we have a deal?<br />
<br />
Honestly, I really could have used those first two devices while writing this blog post. It's taken me about 4 hours to write because I've had to stop to deal with a fussy toddler, clean up after a decimated roll, avoid explosive poop, and I've shouted, "No!" I don't know how many times. Honestly, I'm a bit parched. Can we add an "Instant Drink-inator" to this list?<br />
<br />
~ Lady ALady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-50110544455388474392015-07-10T13:39:00.000-07:002015-07-10T13:39:39.400-07:00My tweens makeup: Rock that hot pink girlMakeup. That amazing and frustrating thing that makes some people look like goddesses, and others incompetent clowns (and I've fallen in the latter more times than I'd like to admit). Right before I gave birth to my second child (and had the realization that I am only 3 short years away from 30), I got hit with one of those, "It's time to grow up and learn how to use this stuff" moments, and I put in a rather large order to e.l.f. cosmetics with the idea that I'd teach myself how to become an expert. Well, THAT didn't happen, but I did suddenly discover a love of lipstick. I went from 0 to 15+ colors in no time flat!<br />
<br />
My sudden interest in makeup caught the attention of my pre-teen step daughter, whom has already developed a love of the stuff (and was ecstatic when my order came and I told her she could have a lipstick I didn't like). She'd asked me on multiple occasions before I decided to become a "makeup guru" if we could do makeovers as a way of spending time with each other. I always said no, because, well, you can't very well put eye-shadow on someone when you don't own any. All the different aspects of makeup fascinate her, and she loves playing with all the brushes and colors. I'm pretty positive someday she will end up being the expert I will never be.<br />
<br />
Today was one of those days where she asked to play with my makeup. I've been letting her use primarily eye-shadows and blushes when I allow her to use it, and I instantly become that "cool mom" when her friend comes over and I let the two of them do up their faces (I was super cool that time I let them play in my heels). Not having much experience with makeup yet, she made her brows far too dark, and I sat with her cleaning it up and explained to her how less is more. I then left her to do her eye-shadow however she pleased. She has a love of BRIGHT colors, and when she came around the corner, pleased with her work and seeking my approval, I was taken back to the early 90's. She was wearing a bright pink lipstick that I bought her which she wears almost daily, and an eye-shadow that was almost the exact same shade. My first reaction was one of surprise and "Oh my.", even as I gave her the thumbs up. My second was actually one of pleasure. Pleasure that the way she had done her makeup seemed so young and carefree.<br />
<br />
In today's society there is pressure at such a young age to look a certain way (Kardashian's, Ariana Grande, or Iggy Azalia [or however you spell her name] anyone?), act a certain way, present yourself a certain way. I've often been shocked and appalled when my step daughter has come home from school. telling me how the girls picked on her because her chest is too flat, she's not what they consider stylish (which really took me by surprise as the school she attended required uniforms, how stylish can those get?), that she's doesn't have what it takes to be popular, etc. The fact that 10 and 11 year olds are discussing the size of their breasts and that they find it perfectly acceptable says something about the nature of our society. We sexualize our girls at such young ages, and teach them that their worth lies in how desirable and attractive they are, and how close they come to representing societies idea of beauty. This isn't the sin of just this generation, a woman's worth has always been weighed by how desirable she is to a man. However with social media and sexualized messages being constantly crammed down the throats of our young women, the pressure to conform to what society thinks a girl/woman should be seems to be worse than ever, even as people take up the mantle to fight these messages and change how a women's worth is found.<br />
<br />
I try to lead by example for my step daughter by not putting myself down or equating my importance/worth with how I look, but I know there are times I fail, and my example is only a drop in an ocean of voices she hears on a daily basis telling her how to judge her worth. I ache for her when she comes to me in tears because someone has yet again taken a chunk out of her wall of confidence, because they felt they had the right to judge her worth. Her worth, and the worth of every human being is NOT found in their appearance, but in their personality, their mind, and their heart.<br />
<br />
So you rock that hot pink girl. You express yourself with all those bright shades and revel in the joy you feel in all those fun colors. Don't ever let anyone tear you down because you aren't following the latest fashions or beauty trends, because those trends will fade and die, while your beauty will only continue to grow and shine.<br />
<br />
Teal eye-liner anyone?Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-71026669307933300182015-03-29T20:35:00.001-07:002015-03-29T20:35:34.022-07:00When you're a mom because you have to be, not because you feel you CAN beHey blogger,<br />
<br />
Remember in that last blog post where I said I was really bad about keeping my blogs updated? I meant it.<br />
<br />
That baby we said we were leaving up to God's plan? God decided that month that we should have another baby, and I'm now 30 weeks pregnant with my second son.<br />
<br />
My first child is going to be a year old on the 2nd of April, and already the tantrums have begun. He's still mostly a little angel, but when he has bad days, he has <b>BAD</b> days. I was trying to clean up my house today (something that I have been really lacking on, see above about being 30 weeks pregnant) in preparation for getting our rental home re-carpeted this week (my father, the landlord, wants new carpet installed before the new baby gets here) and it felt as if for every minute of cleaning, there was ten minutes of tantrums and cuddling that needed to happen before I was able to continue with whatever it was I was doing. My son can now stand with the assistance of objects, and one of his favorite objects is his mommy's legs, especially when he's on a little rampage and wants attention <b>NOW</b>. I cannot tell you how many times this kids has almost accidentally pulled my pants down (one time he actually succeeded).<br />
<br />
I was just losing all patience with him today, and then getting annoyed at myself for it and feeling like a failure. He's one, he doesn't <b>REALLY</b> know what he's doing. He's learning and testing boundaries, that is what little people do. I just felt so ill equipped all day to deal with him, and all I could keep thinking was, "My God, and in just about two more months I'm going to have a newborn to take care of as well. How am I going to do it without having a complete and total mental/physical/emotional breakdown?!"<br />
<br />
I was a mom tonight because I had to be, not because I felt like I could be. I felt like a failure. I didn't know what my son wanted/needed, and he's too young to tell me. One minute all he wanted was to be held, the next he desperately wanted on the floor, but as soon as his feet touched the ground he was crying again. It doesn't help that he's teething as well (his 7th, 8th, and I think 9th teeth are coming in). He's struggling and learning right along with me, and logically I know I can't have all the answers and magically understand what's going on in that tiny little brain of his, but I feel like I should.<br />
<br />
I really shouldn't even be on here right now. I haven't eaten any dinner, I have the remains of my son's dinner to pick up from the floor (half a bagel with cream cheese and yogurt melts, I didn't have the energy to try for anything else, plus I haven't gone shopping this week), and I still have hours of housework ahead of me. I just really felt like I needed a moment to "write it out" though, and I do feel guilt about not keeping up with my blog (among other things). I think if I found time to write just a little bit every week, it would help me feel a little better. I know there are lots of moms out there that struggle just like I do, I'm not special in that regard. But maybe some mom will stumble across my words and feel just a little bit better and a little less alone knowing that it's not just them.<br />
<br />
Well, I should go find some dinner (likely a bowl of cereal) and get back to work. Part of me wants to say "fudge it" and just wake up really early tomorrow before work and try to get some more work done, but I know me, and that's a bad idea.<br />
<br />
~ Lady A<br />
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Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-25810550178279429522014-09-06T17:13:00.001-07:002014-09-06T17:13:25.751-07:00Hello AgainWow, it's been over a year since I've been on here. I've always been horrible about keeping my blogs alive....<br />
<br />
Well, my husband and I now have 5 month old son that the entire family adores. I'm listening to him talk to the little bears on his mobile above his swing as I type. He's a complete joy, and just an amazing baby. He sleeps through the night and usually has a smile on his face. He's so good in fact that I'm afraid it's all just a ploy and as soon as he hits the 2 year mark he will turn into the spawn of Satan. It's probably a trick on God's part to get my husband and I to have another baby. Maybe that baby will cause me to pull my hair out?<br />
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Speaking of another baby, my husband and I have decided to rely on Gods will, and I'm not taking my next set of Birth Control pills. Halfway through my last pack, I just REALLY didn't want to take them, and today I should have started the next pack and I just couldn't find the will to start it. My husband and I had a talk, and he's all for having another baby already (see above, our son is practically a saint, it's weird), so we will see if another child is what God has in store for us.<br />
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My other children (step-children) now go to their mothers every other weekend, with them likely beginning to go every other week sometime at the end of this year or next, so it would just be the baby and I every other week anyway. I think I can manage another little one thrown into the mix, I'm more concerned about the sitters than anything else. It's one thing for me to watch two little babies (my son of course will be over a year by the time the next one arrives), it's another for someone else to have to do it. I'm blessed that I have family willing to step in take care of him while my husband and I are at work.<br />
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I'm sure others will find my husband and I insane, that we are thinking about trying to have another baby while our son is so young, but we just feel it's time. I've been debating it for a while, and my husband has been hinting at wanting to have another baby. The next baby will be a little princess if you believe in the old wives tale of a ring on a string predicting the sex of your children. So we would have a little prince and princess.<br />
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I should really try to get on here at least once a week to update this blog, whether it be a recipe review of just the daily trappings of life. For now though, I'm going to go pay attention to my smiling little boy, who is looking at me with so much love in his precious little eyes<br />
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<br />Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-47458959536779869852013-06-03T18:45:00.002-07:002014-09-06T15:41:58.969-07:00Recipe: Crack PotatoesYou'll have to forgive the lack of picture for this one. I seem to be having trouble getting blogger to upload one.<br />
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Anyways, yes, crack potatoes. I found the original recipe <a href="http://www.plainchicken.com/2011/01/crack-potatoes.html" target="_blank">here.</a> My family loved it, so I'm sharing it with all of you! <br />
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This is incredibly simple, fairly cheap for the amount it makes, and I think would make a great thing (and quick!) item to bring along to a get together with friends. This made two 9-inch round pans, so I froze one (I double bagged it in freezer bags to try and avoid any freezer burn) and cooked up the other. It had a lot of flavor, and if you like ranch dip, this is DEFINITELY for you.<br />
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You will need a BIG bowl. I'm serious. I mixed this up in my 4 quart Pyrex dish, and it almost wasn't big enough to contain it. As it is, a little bit of mix and sour cream spilled over the side (I may have been mixing it a tad too enthusiastically with the spatula, but that's beside the point....). Oh, and it may have helped if I'd followed the recipe creators instructions. She does say to mix the first four ingredients first, THEN add the hash browns. I missed that part....<br />
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Anyway! You need:<br />
<br />
- 2 (16oz) containers of sour cream (I used KRAFT Simply Natural. I like that taste, and I get it for a good price)<br />
- 2 cups shredded cheddar cheese<br />
- 2 (3oz) bags real bacon bits (I get the Oscar Myer brand)<br />
- 2 packages Ranch Dip (OR! I discovered this the other day. You can get a big container of the ranch seasoning! I've been using a lot of ranch dip lately, and it's much more cost effective for me to get the big bottle. It tells you on the back how many tablespoons equals one packet of ranch dip)<br />
- 1 large (28 - 30oz) bag frozen shredded hash browns.<br />
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So, now you're going to grab your big bowl and trusty spatula (or favorite mixing spoon, whatever makes you happy) and be far more intelligent that I was and mix the first four ingredients first, instead of dumping them all on top of the wad of frozen hash browns. Once you've mixed those first four items together pretty well, top it with the hash browns and mix until well combined. If you plan on cooking all of it at once, place it is a 9 x 13 dish and bake at 400 degrees for about 50 minutes. If your not planning on it, break it apart into smaller portions and freeze whatever you're not using for another day. You'll need to adjust your cooking time for the smaller pans, but not by much. I believe I cooked it in the 9-inch round for about 40 minutes. Basically until it is heated through and the cheese is melted.<br />
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And there you have it! A delicious side dish that tastes like (to quote my son) "heaven". My husband absolutely loved them, and my daughter said she could eat them all day. Thanks Pinterest!<br />
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~ Lady A<br />
<br />Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-90793702747780666962013-05-28T21:52:00.000-07:002013-05-28T21:52:22.658-07:00Talking with a Step-parent: Just don't say it!Being a step parent can be hard enough without the (sometimes) well intentioned comments from other people. While I think most people mean well, there are some things that are said that can be really hurtful. Below are two that I have run into that I feel the need to get off my chest. Please feel free to share your "Just don't say it" experiences in the comment section below.<br />
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<strong>Just don't say it: "Of course they're going to fight you! Pick and choose your battles! They aren't yours!"</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
Alright, so this one is a little tricky. Yes, there are some children that just outright hate the step-parent and will defy them no matter the situation. However, sometimes kids are just being rotten kids. I've know parents whose biological children are little hellions and won't listen to a thing they say. Telling a step-parent that a child is obviously going to fight them because they are not the blood parent is really disheartening. Instead of basically telling the step-parent they're screwed, offer some words of encouragement. We know good and well that we aren't the child's actual mother or father, and we are doing the best we can. I'd much rather have someone tell me to keep my chin up instead of reminding me I'm not their mother and hey, why should they listen to me anyway?<br />
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And as far as picking and choosing battles. Well, dammit, that's the easy way out, and it's not good for the children. Parent's need to be consistent. I know it sucks when it feels like you are having to get on your children for every little thing, but sometimes it has to happen. Kids need consistency in discipline. They don't need to grow up knowing their parents will let them get away with certain things because, "Mommy and Daddy just don't want to deal with it.", and that kind of attitude certainly won't earn you any rewards from the people that now have to deal with the children you've raised.<br />
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<strong>Just don't say it: "It's different because they aren't yours." or "You'll understand when you have one of your own."</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
To be honest, this is the one that really pisses me off. One of the most hurtful things you can say to a loving step-parent is that because the child is not their biological child, the parent just "won't get it", "won't appreciate it", or will "feel differently about it" once they have a child of their own, when it comes to one situation or another. I love my children. I would do anything for them. Just because I did not give birth to them does not mean I would not lay down my life for them or do what I could to secure their happiness. The fact that I did not give birth to them, and therefor the children are not "my blood" does not do anything to change how I feel for them. I know people who would lay down their lives for a friend, but who if their sibling was on fire and they had a bottle of water, they would drink it rather than help "their blood.". Blood to me means nothing. I was raised with a half-brother and an adopted sister, and guess what? They are my brother and my sister. Whether or not they share some or none of my blood does nothing to change my feelings for them. My children are my children. End of story.<br />
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<br />
Okay, I'm feeling a bit better now. The phrases above are two that I have run into a LOT since I got married, and I've been married less than two months! It can be really discouraging to have people who don't know you, your children, or your situation basically tell you how you should be living your life and what you should be doing. It makes me want to throw my hands up in the air and start running around the room screaming, "You don't know me! You don't know my life! BLAH!" and make a bee-line for the nearest exit. Because, well, honestly... they don't.<br />
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<br />
<br />
~ Lady ALady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-34694839269725942132013-05-25T18:57:00.000-07:002013-05-25T18:59:10.459-07:00Recipe: Chicken Doritos Casserole<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F94d73ACYjY/UaFmriw3iqI/AAAAAAAAAFM/IwrFRtSaYDE/s1600/dorito+casserole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F94d73ACYjY/UaFmriw3iqI/AAAAAAAAAFM/IwrFRtSaYDE/s400/dorito+casserole.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I made this tonight, and Oh. My. Gosh. This is GOOD! There is just a little bit of a kick from the Ro-Tel tomatoes, and the Doritos still maintain a bit of a crunch. I found the recipe on Pinterest, and you can find the link to the original recipe <a href="http://blogchef.net/dorito-chicken-casserole-recipe/" target="_blank">here</a>. Both of my kids really enjoyed it (I blew the rating scale up apparently, haha). I haven't gotten my husbands opinion yet, but I'm positive it will be, well... positive :) <br />
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I doubled the original recipe as it is only supposed to serve 4, and I like making sure I have leftovers for lunch the next day. So the amounts you see below are for the double batch I cooked.<br />
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Ingredients:<br />
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- 4 cups shredded chicken (I had cooked it in the crock pot the day before to save myself time)<br />
- 4 cups shredded Mexican cheese, separated (2 cups for the chicken mixture, 2 cups for the top)<br />
- 2 (10 ounce) cans cream of chicken soup (I used Wal-Mart brand because it's slightly cheaper than Campbell's, and I don't notice a taste difference)<br />
- 1 cup of milk<br />
- 1 cup of sour cream<br />
- 2 (10 ounce) cans Ro-Tel tomatoes (I used mild)<br />
- 1 packet of taco seasoning (I used McCormick, the taste you can trust!)<br />
- 1 large bag of Doritos (grab the party size!)<br />
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Directions:<br />
<br />
Turn on the oven to 350 degrees and let it get good and hot. In the mean time, add the chicken, 2 cups of cheese, cream of chicken soup, milk, sour cream, Ro-Tel tomatoes, and taco seasoning together in a large bowl and mix well.<br />
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Grease a 9x13 pan (PAM is your friend!). Grab that bag of Dorito's and take out your mommy frustrations by crushing up those chips! Then place a layer on the bottom of the pan. Top with half of the chicken mixture, another layer of Doritos, the other half of the chicken mixture, and then top it off with the rest of the Doritos and the other 2 cups of cheese. <br />
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Now you'll need to cover the pan with foil. I suggest tenting it a bit, so you don't end up with a cheesy mess stuck to the top like I did. Pop it in the over and cook it for about a half hour, or until the casserole is nice and hot.<br />
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I ate it straight, but feel free to top it with sour cream, lettuce, or fresh tomato. My son smothered it in Del Taco hot sauce (yes, I save the packets, that stuff is freaking delicious).<br />
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ENJOY!<br />
<br />Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-6952330957703005002013-05-25T16:08:00.000-07:002013-05-25T16:08:19.083-07:00Listening Ears: Say what?I'm not sure whose responsibility it was when my children were being created to install their listening ears, but I'm pretty sure they all got a faulty set, and I want something done about it.<br />
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What is it that causes kids to just tune out whatever it is you say? This morning I found out that my husband had had to confiscate my sons "ball-e" the other night (this is also his third strike*, so guess who ball-e belongs to now?), for something the children have been told dozens of times not to do and have gotten in trouble for multiple times... tossing the ball in the house.<br />
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I don't consider myself an unreasonable parent. Kids need to play and burn off steam, and I completely understand that. Even though sometimes it makes me want to scream and turn into Angelica Houston from "Witches", I let them rough house and yell and just generally have a good old time making the loudest (and at times most disgusting) noises they can manage. I even let them play with "ball-e" in the house, under one condition: BALL-E IS NOT TO BE THROWN/TOSSED/HURLED AT A THOUSAND MILES AN HOUR TOWARDS A PERSON OR OBJECT. So basically, just roll ball-e around, and everything is snazzy. Wanting to throw ball-e is perfectly fine, but for goodness sake kids, do it outside! What do you think the back yard is for?<br />
<br />
Apparently not for tossing ball-e around, at least according to my kids. Why go outside in the sunshine and fresh air, when you can be in an air-conditioned house and hope mom or dad doesn't catch you? Oh, they tried to be smarter this time, they weren't tossing ball-e around in the main areas of the house you see, oh no... they'd escaped to my sons bedroom and closed the door. Guess it didn't occur to them that a ball makes noise when it hits a wall/object/very vocal person. I really believe if they had a working set of listening ears, they would have figured that out.<br />
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So, dear whoever you are that is in charge of the listening ears department, I have a request. I don't want to get anyone in trouble, and I'm sure you're employees work very hard, but someone is slipping up and installing faulty mechanics. If you could somehow find it in the goodness of your heart to install some new or better quality listening ears on my children (their bedtime is at 9, so you can stop by anytime after they've fallen asleep. I'm sure the ears are much easier to install if the child isn't squirming) I'd really appreciate it. You can imagine my frustration at having to repeat the same rules over and over due to a set of faulty hardware.<br />
<br />
Ever yours,<br />
<br />
~Lady A<br />
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*In our house, we have a "three strikes" rule. If I have to take a toy away three times, it's now MY toy. Yay toys!Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-47707880465859616132013-05-24T22:37:00.001-07:002013-05-24T23:09:34.575-07:00Recipe: Grands! Easy Taco Melts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Grands! Easy Taco Melts</span></strong></div>
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My children are
incredibly picky eaters. It's hard to get them to try anything new without a
struggle. They are very much hamburger and spaghetti-o's kind of kids.</div>
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Tuesdays in our house
are taco nights. Yes, I know we aren't original, but hey, Del Taco started a
trend okay? Now, tacos are delicious, don't get me wrong, but having them all
the time can get boring, so I like to try and change it up a little here and
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Thanks to my hours of
scouring <a href="http://www.pillsbury.com/"><span style="color: #cc3300;">www.pillsbury.com</span></a>, I stumbled
across this recipe. It looked simple (it is), and according to the reviews
delicious (it was!). I'm all about quick and easy (it took hardly any time to
put together), so I decided to give it a shot. My son (a FAR pickier eater than
my youngest daughter), took one bite and exclaimed is a very surprised voice,
"This IS good!". I swear I heard angels sing...</div>
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<span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"type":45}" id="fbPhotoPageCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Ingredients:</span></span></span><br />
<span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"type":45}" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="font-family: inherit;">- 1 package taco
seasoning<br />- 2/3 cup water <br />- 1 1/2 cups chunky salsa <br />- 1lb ground beef
<br />- 1 can Pillsbury Grands! Biscuits (I used home style)<br />- 1 cup shredded
Mexican cheese blend <br />- 1 cup sour cream<br /><br />Directions:<br />Brown ground
beef and drain. Add taco seasoning, water, and 1/2 cup salsa, and heat until
thickened. <br /><br />Press each biscuits into a 6-inch round. Spoon 1/3 cup meat
mixture and 1 tablespoon cheese onto the center of each round. Fold dough in
half over filling; press to seal. Place onto greased cookie sheet and bake 9-14
minutes at 375 degrees or until golden brown. Serve with remaining cheese,
salsa, and sour cream.<br /><br />Add a salad on the side, and you've got
dinner in about a half hour!</span></span></span></span>Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-16430730440771678602013-05-24T21:59:00.000-07:002013-05-24T21:59:21.374-07:00Motherhood: Not even the bathroom is safe anymoreAhh, the bathroom. Your sanctuary, your private library, your own little kingdom where you are the ruler of the porcelain throne and no one dare disturb you.... HA! Yeah right!<br />
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As a child, the bathroom was a special place for me. It was somewhere I could go if I just wanted to escape and be left alone for a while. Sure, it bugged the heck out of my parents, but who were they to judge as to whether I really had an upset stomach, or if I just wanted to finish a few more chapters of <em>Harry Potter</em>? <br />
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As an adult, the bathroom has continued to be a place where I could just steal a few moments to myself. Feeling overwhelmed? Hide in the bathroom. Don't really want to deal with anyone? Hide in the bathroom. Looking for a quiet place to finish reading that last chapter? Well, where else, but... the bathroom!<br />
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Now that I'm a mother, I've discovered that going to the bathroom is NOT the ultimate escape plan. Sure, I've heard horror stories of mothers trying to steal a few precious moments to themselves, only to be bombarded with the cries of infants and small hands reaching underneath the bathroom door, but that's just the thing, all the horror stories (and occasional pictures I've seen floating around the internet) involved SMALL hands, infant and toddler hands. Not the hands of pre-teens and teens. I'd never imagined it would be the cries of adolescents! <br />
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Just tonight, I decided to steal away to the bathroom, seek some quiet time to reflect on the day, when not a few minutes later I hear my son knock on the door to ask if he may get on the computer before he does his chores. Now, he knows he isn't supposed to be asking to do any fun stuff before his chores are done, and really, you're going to bother me while I'm in the bathroom, for THAT? Annoyed is putting it gently. I reminded him of his duties, and vowed to myself to attempt some quiet time again later in the evening.<br />
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Alas, I was again denied. Not a moment after I'd hung up my towel (if I couldn't get privacy on my throne, I sure was going to get it in my shower darn it), I hear another knock on the door. What could it be this time? My youngest was now requesting my help because she could not get the Wii to work correctly for the game she wanted to play, and mommy needed to come to the rescue. Instead of the leisurely after shower pampering that I had planned, I was now rushing to throw on some pj's and put my hair up in a clip, so that I could figure out what the devious game system was up to now.<br />
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With the cries of, "Lady A*, where is the toilet paper**?", "Lady A*, can I get on the computer?", and "Lady A*, could you possibly take my boyfriend home***?" still ringing in my ears, I'm resigning myself to the fact that I may never again have a "quiet" place to escape to, at least not until the kids are grown and gone. Because really, if you can't escape to the bathroom, you can't escape anywhere.<br />
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<em>~ Lady A</em><br />
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*My children tend to address me by my given name. My youngest goes back and forth, and that's just fine. Whether they want to call me mommy or not is their decision.<br />
**You know when you're kids ask you where something is, even though you've told them (and physically shown them) at least half a dozen times? Yeah...<br />
***You also know that thing where your kids will ask you if you'll do something, even though you sat and thoroughly explained to them why you WON'T be doing it? Mmmhmmm....Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2882606156212077550.post-38944406501885923392013-05-24T19:45:00.000-07:002013-05-24T19:50:53.737-07:00Hello Blogger!Hello Blogger!<br />
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You'll have to forgive me as I try to figure out how to set up this blog just right. I really only have the chance when I steal the few moments here and there that I'm not working or having to take care of home and kids.<br />
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Man, has this week been exhausting. Work has been all over the place, and it seems like there has been one crazy emergency after another. Add on top of that taking care of three children and running a household, and there is not enough coffee in the world to sustain me. Thankfully my husband has been super sweet this week and helped me out a lot. He works all the time too, so I really appreciate when he finds the time to make me breakfast or pack a lunch.<br />
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Sadly, this post must be short. I have two children trying to read over my shoulder, and a son that wants to get on the computer, and wants to get on it NOW. He has a bit of an electronic addiction. Trying to break that...<br />
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See you soon!Lady Ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05132193765475628793noreply@blogger.com0