Thursday, October 29, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
I'm terribly congested and achy and generally exhausted. Oscar has a runny nose and a bad cough. I've been giving him breathing treatments ever four hours in hopes we can avoid the breathing situation brought on by his last cold. We've also got the two year molars coming in. One popped through about two weeks ago and he working a second. This morning, Oscar was clutching his jaw in tears, saying, "My teeth! My teeth hurt, Momma! Help! Help!" Some Motrin did the trick.
Nelson has had a runny nose for three weeks. He went to the Dr. today for a physical and to have his blood drawn (just basic tests, as high triglycerides run in his family) and the nurse practitioner gave him antibiotics.
Antibiotics? Really? For a stuffy nose? I realize he's had it for a few weeks, but antibiotics? I just feel like that is pretty excessive. He has no other symptoms. I swear his doctor's offices give antibiotics out like candy. It's ridiculous.
Anyways, I'm cranky and feeling crummy and super behind on housework and laundry. Oh, the glamour.
Friday, October 23, 2009
I hope you're feeling better Jen. We miss you!
Coffee. I just did quite a lengthy post about coffee, but lucky for you, coffee and I have quite a history.
Oh, there's more.
And it involves...my mom.
Do you remember my wacky mom, Ann Johonson? If she pre-dates you, you should really read this post for a little background.
My mom? She loves her some coffee. She probably drinks an entire pot of coffee every single day. I'm talking ten or twelve full cups. She loves the stuff. Juan Valdez send her holiday cards. She's the patron saint of Columbia. Starbucks is naming a blend after her.
I'm trying to say, the lady likes coffee.
Know what else she likes? Coffee makers.
My mother has more coffee pots sitting in her garage then you'll find the the small appliance section of Target. She has black ones; white ones; stainless steel ones; ones that make twelve cups; ones that make one cup; ones that make two cups; ones with automatic timers; ones that grind the beans; ones use coffee disk inserts; ones with basket filters; ones with cone filters; ones with glass carafes; ones with insulated carafes; one made by Mr. Coffee; ones she got in the mail; ones that make lattes and cappuccinos; broken ones, though most work just fine.
She must have more then a dozen coffee makers in her garage. It's a coffee maker graveyard. And she would love to send you one; one of her old, discarded coffee makers. She's always looking to find them a good home. She loves them, the just weren't a good fit.
I know it seems crazy; to buy and buy and buy coffee maker; discarding them at the first sign of inferiority; always searching for the very best machine. Hell, that IS crazy.
But the thing is, my mom is just THAT dedicated to coffee. She wants to find the machine that does her coffee justice, that makes her coffee sing. Ann Johnson is not willing to settle for a carafe that drips when it pours; a coffee maker with a timer but no grinder; a machine that clashes with her kitchen!
She must have the perfect machine for the perfect beverage. You gotta respect that.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The rash looks like teeny, tiny freckles. Super teeny, like smaller then bread crumbs, the size of pin pricks. Only a mom would notice. I was a little freaked, but it was localized to his bottom and he wasn't displaying any other symptoms so I knew it wasn't really meningitis. I decided to Wait and See. I showed the rash to Nelson and he claimed to be unable to even see it and completely unworried. He is a great foil for my neurosis.
The rash has persisted. It sort of went away in some spots but came back in others. On Monday, when I was changing him, I noticed that his entire bottom was covered with the little speckles, as were the backs of his thighs, and a few other areas on the bottoms of his legs. I decided to ask Dr. Google (always a mistake, I know) and he diagnosed it as petechia. Please click on this link, read the Wikipedia entry (particularly the Associated Conditions), and join me in my PANIC because obviously my son has H1N1, vasculitis, Leukemia, Typhus, and/or Ebola.
Also, looked at the photo. Okay, Oscar's spots? Even tinier then the ones in that photo. Maybe half or even a third of that size. Tiny. I calmed slightly at this, but I still called the doctor and we were given an appointment for Tuesday.
Tuesday. Freckle rash still there. We go in and I tell the doctor about the rash and it's history. "Let's see it!" she says. So, I take off his diaper and at first she's like, "What rash? I don't see anything?" (Yes, to answer you question, it was the Asshole. Always the Asshole when I'm at my most vulnerable.)
"Look. It's right there. All over!" I say.
She looks. She rubs it, she presses it. She looks at the backs of his legs, looks him all over.
She seems baffled, but not concerned. She tells me it looks like petechia, but very, very tiny. She's asked about Oscar's general health, "Has he been feeling sick? Lethargic?" And he hasn't. I show her a swollen glad in his groin and she is unconcerned.
"Well, we could do a CBC to check his platelet levels, but he just had one a couple of months ago and his numbers were perfect. Beautiful. Like you said, he's so fair, you can just see EVERYTHING on is skin. So, just watch him. Call if it localizes, or if the spots get bigger, or if he displays other symptoms."
I felt better initially, but on the way home I just kept thinking I wished I had insisted on the CBC just for piece of mind, you know? Because I just keep thinking about it, and finding more of the little freckles here and there (on his neck, on his arm, on his cheek) and I'm starting to obsess.
Don't forget tomorrow's Blissful Benefit! Brew up something tasty.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
I know, right? RIGHT? His hair is at least twice a thick and it is less then two weeks between the series of shots. I mean, his hair is lustrous and full bodied, isn't it? It looks fantastic.
Exhibit C: October 15, 2009
LOOK AT THOSE LOCKS! He's like freaking Fabio, right? A tofu eating, Cheerio chomping Fabio. Only smarter and better looking and without the funny accent.
(Yes, I've lost my mind. Thanks for asking.)
Hey! And don't forget about the Blissful Benefit this Friday. All the cool kids will be there so you really don't want to miss it.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
*Did you see that we're hosting a Blissful Benefit to celebrate Blissfully Caffeinated's new baby and wish her a speedy recovery? Sure you did!. Come on, join in the fun and spread the word. Do a coffee-related post this Friday, come by here and let me know, and I'll link you up. If you don't it'll be like I threw a party an no one showed up. You don't want to do that to me, do you? Because this is ALL ABOUT ME. And Bliss Caff, of course.
*Oscar has a weird rash. I'm panicking about it (of course) and he has an appointment for today. And I'm feeling really awful because he's had the rash for like a month and I just kept thinking it would go away and instead it's gotten worse. There's something wrong and I ignored it. And, the thing is, I was pretty unsettled by the rash when I first saw it, but I did nothing. I decided to Wait and See. I'm worried that was not the right call. And now I'm noticing all kinds of other "symptoms" like, isn't he more tired then usual? and I think his back hurts? and and and. Ugh.
*In other Oscar news, he suffered his first sports injury this weekend. He tripped and fell while racing down the hall and sprained his ankle. He's wearing a little Ace bandage and limping all over the place. We actually had to take him to *GASP* urgent care. It was freaking AWFUL. I called ahead so we had an appointment, arrived early to fill out paperwork, then still had to wait and hour to be seen. And Oscar was literally wailing in pain and exhaustion the whole entire time. Through the X-Ray too. It was majorly terrible. I realize that it was still probably much better then the ER would have been, but miserable.
*Miles is a wild man. Wild. He spends roughly of his day searching the floor for choakable items to put in his mouth and the other half pulling up like crazy, letting go and trying to stand, and falling. He flips through books looking for the most tender pages and then sinks his three (!!) teeth in them and tries to rip them out. The look is akin to a lion tearing into a gazelle. And he growls. We play this game where I hold Miles out in front of me and we chase Oscar, and Miles GROWLS when we "attack" Oscar. Then they both laugh hysterically and it's the best moment of my life.
Monday, October 19, 2009
BUT! Sprite's Keeper and I have decided to host A Blissful Benefit - a meme in Biss Caff's honor so she knows we are all thinking of her and wishing her a speedy recovery.
So, if you know Bliss Caff (or even if you don't), we're asking that folk do a post dedicated to her about her favorite beverage, coffee, and have it up by Friday, October 23. Once you do your post, come let me know in my comments and I'll link folks up on my page.
Please help spread the word, and if you're not a coffee drinker, you can just pay homage to whatever beverage you can't get enough of. Just let me know so I can link you up on Friday!
Thanks for playing!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Do you know what I've discovered? He ALMOST ALWAYS has something in his mouth - bits of food, lint, dog hair, dirt, microscopic pieces of paper - you name it, I've found it in his mouth.
**WARNING! THIS IS ABOUT TO GET DISGUSTING**
I decided to start...investigating...his poop. Too see if there were any non-digestables in there. And was there ever. Little bits of paper, hair, lint, string, all manner of little bitty bits that a baby should NOT be eating. And this was after I became super vigilant.
At first I was like "What the hell, Miles William? Are you starving? Are you teething? ARE YOU TRYING TO DRIVE ME INSANE?" And then I was like "Am I the most neglectful mother EVER? How on earth is it possible that my baby is eating so man non-food items (NFOs)?"
But now, I think not. I think Miles is just a particularly mouthy baby. I mean, all babies are mouthy to some extent at this age, but I think Miles is just really particularly so. Because we did not have this issue with Oscar. Yes, he's put things in his mouth. He even made a game of it after a while. However, even at his worst Oscar was never even half as bad as Miles with the things in the mouth.
Here is an abbreviated list of things I've pulled Miles William's mouth in the past week (and by "pulled out of his mouth" I mean pried open his steel-clamped jaws and did battle against his razor-like teeth to remove these objects):
- Dime-sized piece of stick
- Dime-sized stone
- Stale cheerio
- Corn-chip fragment
- Dog hair (may times)
- Small pieces of paper
- A used Band-Aid (thanks to Oscar) (OHMYGODSODISGUSTING!!!)
- Stuffed animal fur
- Dirt (many times)
- A piece of felt-food butter (my sister-in-law actually pulled this one out)
- Various unidentified NFOs
An impressive list, yes? Impressive until you here what he tried to eat on Sunday. His NFO pièce de résistance, if you will.
I saw him grab something and said to Nelson, "Get him. He has something in his mouth," and Nelson scooped him up and I noticed Miles had this awful look on his face.
"Well, I whatever he's eating doesn't taste very good," I joked.
And for the first time in the history of Miles William, that boy opened his mouth right up and let me sweep it clear.
It was one of these ugly mother effers. That would be a stink bug, my friends and it was still alive when I pulled it out (GAH, I touched a stink bug! I touched a stink bug! EWEWEWEW!) Miles ate a stink bug. Or rather he put a stink bug in his mouth and it RELEASED IT'S STINK when it (correctly) identified Miles as a predator. Apparently that stink tastes about as good as it smells since he so willingly let me remove it.
He had watery eyes and stinky breath but was otherwise fine.
If you are thinking that he perhaps maybe learned his lesson after his stinky experience, you'd be wrong. Just this morning I pulled out a piece of aggregate (NELSON) from his mouth. Why is it that I have a sinking feeling there are a lot more calls to poison control in my future?
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Coffee. I love coffee. I didn't always love coffee. The love affair began after college, when I to get up at the ungodly hour of 7AM (heh) and report to work each day.
I was an office coffee drinker. I never drank coffee at home; there wasn't time. I would just slog to work in a sleepy haze. It was no biggie because I took public transportation. At my various jobs I either fixed myself a cup of office coffee or stopped off at Starbucks on my way in. Most days, I only had one cup. It was all I needed.
Nelson has loved coffee for many, many years. As long as we've lived together (nine years!!) he's always made coffee at home and brought it with him to work in a thermos. For the past maybe five years we've had a programmable coffee pot, so Nelson would grind the beans and fill the coffee maker with water at night and wake to a full, hot, carafe in the morning.
I was off coffee while pregnant with Oscar and for the first six months after he was born. But then, I started taking care of Danny so I asked Nelson to leave me a cup in the morning. So, instead of making his usual six cups, he started making eight cups.
Most mornings it was fine, but for the first six months or so, I'd have one or two mornings a week with no coffee. Nelson would forget to leave it for me, or forget to make two extra cups, I don't know. But after months of haranguing, he finally started to remember consistently. And, yes, I could just make two cups of coffee for myself but that is a colossal pain the in the ass for me,what with the cleaning of the pot and the measuring and the grinding and etc., and making two extra cups is pretty damn easy for him.
About six months ago, I realized that I needed/wanted/whatever MORE coffee in the morning. So, I asked my husband to make two extra cups. To increase the amount of coffee he made from eight to ten cups. He agreed.
Now, instead of leaving me two cups (and this was really only like one cup), he'd be leaving me four cups (which is really only like two cups) and he would continue to take the same six cups he's taken for basically the entire nine years we've lived together. Sounds simple, yes?
Yeah, that be a big N-O, hosses. He is still not leaving me enough coffee. We keep having the SAME EXACT conversation about it, and it goes like this:Jenni: You didn't leave me enough coffee this morning. Again.
Jenni: You didn't leave me enough coffee this morning again.
Jenni: Really. Even though I've been asking you to leave me more coffee for like six months.
Nelson: But I left you two cups.
Jenni: Right. You always leave me two cups. You've always left me two cups. It's not enough. It never has been. This is why I asked you to leave me more.
Nelson: But I make ten cups every morning!
Jenni: I know. You make ten cups because I asked you to, so you could leave me more. You used to make eight cups, remember?
Nelson: So, what happens to the extra two cups?
Jenni: You just take more coffee for yourself. Coffee that you don't even drink, I might add (Jenni shakes half-full coffee thermos.)
Jenni: Yeah, so I asked you to make more coffee so you could leave me more and instead you made more and took more for yourself. And then you don't even drink it. And I don't have enough coffee.
Nelson: I guess I'll just have to make eleven cups.
Jenni: Or, you could just keep making ten and take six, like you always have, and leave me four, since you are not even drinking the extra coffee you have been taking to work.
Nelson: You need FOUR cups of coffee?
Jenni: YOU'RE NOT EVEN DRINKING IT! What are you, some kind of coffee hoarder? Why do we keep having this conversation?!
Nelson: Yeah, okay, I'll leave you the coffee.
Jenni: That's all I'm asking. LEAVE ME THE COFFEE.
It always go like that, then he'll leave me appropriate coffee for about two weeks, then go back to taking the extra coffee for himself THE SELFISH BASTARD. (I am kidding. About the bastard part. His parents were totally married when he was born.)
Can you believe he does that? Takes the extra coffee I specifically requested? After I MAKE HIS LUNCH and stuff. Here I am the PERFECT WIFE and this is what he does to me. He takes my goddamn coffee. (Again, kidding. I'd never curse coffee. I also may have one or two flaws. Like my irrational irritability about things like coffee.)
I mean if he was drinking it I think I'd be less annoyed. Okay, I would not be less annoyed but at least I could UNDERSTAND that, I could understand him needing/wanting/whatever more coffee. But, no. He is not drinking it. It is sad, wasted, coffee. Coffee that was very much wanted, but could not be drunk (drank? drunken?).
The fact that it just keeps happening and we just keep having the SAME converstion makes me feel like I'm taking crazy pills. I mean, it's like my husband is trying to turn me into some coffee deprived lunatic. Except how is that good for him? I assure you it is NOT good for him. I mean, have you read this post? I'm like stark raving over two freaking cups of coffee. GAH!
This is the sad, sad state of coffee affairs in my home and also a little peek into my domestic insanity. You're welcome.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Nebo bit the water guy yesterday.
Nebo is our nearly seven-year-old German Shepherd mix. We've had him for about four and a half years. We love him very, very much and he is apart of our family. And, he's a biter.
A little back story on the News (his pet name): We adopted him in 2005 from a fantastic no-kill shelter in DC. We got him three months after we got our first dog, Valentine, when we determined that she needed a dog companion.
We brought Valentine when we went to select Nebo. We originally had no interest in him because in the shelter, he was a barker. But the staff pushed him - he was very submissive (which we needed because Valentine is dominant); very dog-bonded; got on well with cats; rated as good for a family with children.
And Valentine LOVED him. Nebo came to the shelter from another shelter in North Carolina that had be flooded by a hurricane the previous year. Many of the dogs, who were housed in outdoor kennels, had drown. He was one of the handful of survivors. He'd come to the shelter as a puppy; Nebo had never had a real home.
I knew we had to take this dog. Nebo deserved a family.
The shelter had been having trouble placing Nebo because he needed to be in a multi-dog household and he needed an understanding family that would not ask too much of him. The adoption counselors told us he would likely never be a social dog and would probably only ever bond to Nelson and I and our immediate family we were okay with that.
He had a rough two weeks, but after that it felt like Nebo had always been with us. He was sweet and affectionate; he slept on the bed, in between us; he licked the cat; he worshiped Valentine. We were very happy with him.
Nebo was by my side during my labor with Oscar. My labor support dog. I leaned on him, stroked his fur, clung to him. He was only second to Nelson. He barked a greeting to Oscar when he came into the world.
It is hard to know how your animals will react to a new baby, but Nebo was great. Excited and interested, but not too much. We could not have asked for a better reaction.
As the months following Oscar's birth went on, there was a noticeable change in Nebo. He began barking more. Much, much more. Instead of just jumping on the door when someone arrived he would throw his whole entire body at the door. We had to put up Plexiglas to protect him and the door.
He'd always stood sentry at the foot of the stairs, looking out the window at the street, watching for intruders. But now he was obsessed with it. All day, he'd sit there, growling every time anyone so much as walked by our home.
Then he started growling at visitors. Now, he'd always been nervous but never growling or barking at people once they were in our home and clearly welcomed by Nelson and me. In Oscar's first six months, he nipped three people. All had gotten too close to him after he sent clear signals that he did not want to be bothered, but we didn't like where things were going with Nebo.
So, we started putting Nebo in his crate whenever a new person came over. Both of our dogs are crate trained, so they don't see their crates as a place of punishment; they see them as a place of comfort and saftey. We'd put him in there for the first thirty minutes or so; so Nebo could relax and feel the safety of his crate; so Valentine could get adjusted to the company. Then, we'd let him out and he'd be fine. We've always told guests to steer clear of Nebo; he will come to you when he's ready.
And this worked well. Really, really well. Nebo seemed to calm down. He was welcoming more people into his circle of trust. He seemed less anxious and much happier.
Then, Miles was born. And things have been getting steadily worse.
He's gotten even more anxious. He still holds sentry at the window, but goes completely berserk when someone so much as walks down the street ACROSS THE STREET from out house. When someone comes on to our porch, it's as though he's trying to go through the Plexiglas. Even when it's someone he knows. If he is outside in the front yard when someone walks by, he goes ape shit. Like Cujo - growling barking, drooling, jumping, snapping.
We were (are) pretty upset by this change. We addressed this with our vet at his check up last month. She suggested we try using the crate again like we had before, or that we try behavior modification training.
And we though, "Yeah, yeah, we'll do that." But, you know, life happens and we never got around to it.
Then, yesterday, I saw the guy from the water company go into my neighbor's yard and drop off a notice. So did my dogs, and they did not like it. Valentine is much more calm and social, but she's not too keen on strangers either (although her reaction is not nearly as visceral as Nebo's.)
I saw that he was headed to our house. I was out with all three boys and the dogs. Miles was on the grass, so I picked him up and walked to the fence to intercept the water guy. Nebo was jumping and barking and growling and snapping, hackles raised. I knew if I could get to him and the water guy, every thing would be fine. Nebo would calm at my touch; I could take the notice; the water guy would leave.
But that stupid fucking water guy. Do you know what he did? DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID? He stuck his fucking had over the fence into Nebo's face. His SNARLING, BARKING, TOOTH-BARING, INSANELY JUMPING, HACKLES RAISED, FACE, so Nebo could sniff his hand.
And (SURPRISE!) Nebo bit him.
"OW! Son of a BITCH!"
"OH MY GOD! Are you okay? I was trying to get over, trying to tell you! He's really nervous! I'm so sorry, I'm so, so, sorry! Did he break the skin? Are you bleeding? Do you need first aid?"
The water guy looked at his hand and showed it to me. The skin had been pinched but not broken.
"No, no, I'm okay."
"I'm so sorry! He gets so protective with the boys out here-"
"No, no it's my fault. I shouldn't have done that. I trusted him, and I shouldn't have. I didn't think he'd bite."
"I know, because he's out playing with the kids, you probably though he was friendly. And he is, but not to strangers. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, I'm fine. Have a good one."
And that was it.
And, yes, it was totally the guy's fault for not asking me if Nebo was okay and for approaching an obviously distressed animal. And the bite was not bad. And Nebo wasn't ATTACKING anyone. He clearly felt threatened and was scared when the guy put his hand over the fence (which, OHMYGOD STUPID.) He was not trying to take the guy's hand off; just to warn him to back off.
But, I can't take a chance. I can't take a chance on having a biter. Not will all the kids around here. The bite wasn't very damaging to the water guy, but it would have been to one of the boys.
We've hired a dog trainer and our first session is this weekend. It's very expensive, but she thinks she can help Nebo. We made a commitment to him when we adopted and we don't want to get rid of him because he's having difficulty controlling his anxiety now that we have children.
We feel just awful. We should have dealt with the situation sooner and we let it get out of hand. We knew it would be a tough couple of years on the dogs when we started having kids, but we also knew once our kids got older the pay off would be huge. Now that Oscar is older he's starting to interact with the dogs in a meaningful way. And Nebo is good with them - gentle and patient and affectionate.
We promised Nebo a home and a family so we are trying to do the right thing. The shelter will take him back, but how likely are they to find another home for a seven-year-old dog that has a history of biting? He'd have to live out his days in the shelter. And he'd be devastated without Valentine. I don't want to do that to him.
I hope things go well this Saturday. We don't want to lose our dog, and we don't want to exile him from his family. Wish us luck.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
*Miles is pulling up on anything that is even momentarily stationary and cruising all over the place. What the what? Wasn't he just born last week?
*Nelson and I went to a wedding on Saturday night and his parents watched the kids. It went pretty well. Miles got pretty cranky toward the end, but that was expected since I usually nurse him to sleep and he didn't have that. Oscar was awake when we got home and momentarily cried when he discovered we'd left, but he was very good. When we got home, he dashed past Nelson and right into my arms. Who's the Mommy?
*We spent nearly the entire wedding talking about the boys and how much we loved them. I really, really missed Miles. I have read that for the first year or so of life, an infant is not able to distinguish itself apart from it's parents; it sees it's parents as an extension of itself. I kind of feel this way about Miles too. It was almost a physical ache being away from him for so long, like an appendage had been removed. I missed Oscar too, but it was very different. He's like my best friend, so it's more like I missed his company - the way he interacts with his environment, the funny things he says, spur of the moment hugs, stuff like that.
*I just admitted that my two-year-old is my best friend. I am struck by how that statement is so incredibly true. And I'm pretty sure I'm his best friend too. I'm okay with that.
*Last night was the first night we all had the same dinner, including Miles. Couscous, chicken, and broccoli. Little at the HELL out of some couscous.
*This morning while I was fixing his Cinnamon toast, Oscar looked out the window and saw the moon. He said, "I need get rocket so I can go to moon. Moon far away, Momma. I need get Mickey's rocket! Mickey's rocket!" He said ALL THAT. GENIUS. Astronaut genius.
*Are you feeding your toddler Cinnamon toast yet? Well, why not? Get on that.
*During yesterday's nap time (heh) I went up to get Oscar after an hour. He'd been talking and whining on and off the whole time. When I get in the room I immediately smell poop and notice that his pants are off. Then, I see that his hand and legs are covered in poop. Incidentally, you never want to hear your toddler say, "I all muddy with poo-poo." Talk of the moon is much better.
Monday, October 5, 2009
It sucks because I can't seem to get over this 35 lbs hump.
It sucks because I feel like I'm working my ass off and getting no results.
It sucks because I'm tired of having to account for every morsel of food that enters my mouth.
It sucks because I'm totally obsessing over this stupid 1.5 lbs.
It sucks the most because I'm seriously considering *GASP* giving up.
Cue dramatic fainting.
Break out the smelling salts because I'm not giving up. I'm making a new goal. I want to reach the 50 lb mark by New Years; a lofts goal considering 1)Plateau and 2)Holiday Season.
But WHATEVER. I need to get motivated, I need a new goal and 15 lbs in 12.5 weeks is it. It's totally attainable and in a safe and healthy weight loss of an average 1.2 lbs a week.
Here's the plan:
*TRACK, TRACK, TRACK! In Weight Watchers speak, this means to write down every thing I eat and account for it. I've been slipping.
*MEASURE all my portion sizes. For real. This means measuring cups leveled off with a knife. No more heaping portions.
*SWITCH it UP. We've fallen into a food rut and are eating out too often. I'm going to make beef stew this week and pasts with meatballs; two old, healthy favorites that have fallen off the map.
*Make BETTER CHOICES. Opt for the fresh apple instead of the Peppermint Patty, the fudgesicle instead of the brownie, the salad instead of the chips.
*MOVE MORE. I don't know how I'm going to do this, but I'm going to try and walk at least a mile three times a week. So, a midday walk w/the boys, perhaps?
I know how to do this. I've lost over 35 lbs already. The only thing getting in my way is myself. So, stand aside, self because I'm back on track.
Wanna learn more about the hottest weight loss club online? Click here.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Jenni: I have nothing to blog about.
Nelson: You have nothing to blog about?
Nelson: You always have something to blog about.
Jenni: I'm just so tired with the Miles not sleeping at night and Oscar not sleeping during the day. It's like my brain is not working. I guess I could blog about the coffee thing.
Nelson (scoffs): Yeah, you could blog about that. Everyone will loooove that.
Jenni: Yeah, but I don't want to blog about the coffee thing because I'll just be breaking your balls.
Nelson: It's your space; write what you want.
Jenni: I know, but I don't want do that to you. Besides, we resolved it.
Nelson: I don't care. Blog about it.
Jenni: It's not even that funny. And I don't feel like it. I don't know. Maybe I will. People always love it when I break your balls.
Nelson: It's fine, reall-
Jenni: SSHHHH! Glee is back on...