Dapoppins

Therapy

2009-07-09T20:18:00.000-07:00

Most of my friends know that I have a serious problem.

Abut a year ago, after being caught indulging in my secret problem in a local park, an intervention was staged. Friends and family gathered about, their faces were serious. Full of concern. At first I thought it was a surprize birthday party, until my best friend Bee started passing out little pamphlets to everyone about how gently convince me to change my evil ways.

"Poppins, you have a problem," Bee said with a sad shake of her head.

"Huh? Where's the diet Coke? How can you have a birthday party without diet Coke?" I asked.

"I'll get you your diet Coke fix later, dear," said my husband with a beleaguered expression. If you know any men who have been married to caffeine addicts for more than ten years, you probably have seen this expression before. Deep, sad eyes, but sort of tight around the mouth.

"We need to talk to you," Bee tried to continue as I searched the dining room for presents. Where were the gifties? This was all about me, wasn't it?

"Dapoppins. Please sit down. We need to talk about what happened. In the park."

"In the park? Oh, that. No big deal, it was all cleared up." I blushed a bit, embarrassed. I mean, anyone would be embarrassed, wouldn't they? My blush was accompanied by a a smile. I couldn't help it. A satisfied cat-in-the-cream smile as I remembered the park.

Bee kneeled before me and took my hand. My sister-in-law and niece scooted close. Someone got my mom on the speaker phone so she could listen in and offer sage advise.

Thank goodness my Dad's Wife wasn't there. She had caught me indulging once in the bathroom of her house and proceeded to lecture me up one side and down the other. The woman isn'tshy about giving her opinion about anything, and until that day, I had never even considered that my little fetish might be detrimental to anyone.

I smiled at Bee's earnest face. I kinda liked her there, kneeling. You know, she is about a foot taller than me, and always makes me feel like a lawn gnome who forgot his hat. "Dapoppins, you know you have a problem, don't you?"

"Uhhhhhh-"

"It was alright when you were able to keep your problem within family and friends, but at the park you forgot yourself didn't you, and that wasn't the first time. You can't keep doing this. Your children are going to grow up warped and think every body does this..."

"Well, I--"

Bee wouldn't let me bring out my list of excuses. "No. No Dapoppins. You just can't go around pinching bottoms. You can't. It just isn't done. You really scared those people at the park."

I looked down shamefully. There it was out in the open. Where everybody could see it. I PINCH BUTTS. I can't help myself. Playing tag, going up the stairs, if there is a kid in front of me with a nice round bottom I want to pinch it. Not a painful pinch. Just a gentle little-squidge. And then the kid squeaks and giggles and I want to do it again. I Butt pinch so often that my younger kids, and Bee's own daughter, will wiggle their behinds at me and say, "Have a litlle Butt!" Just to tease me.

"We were playing tag," I offered to Bee lamely.

"You have a problem. You need to keep your hands to yourself."

Okay, all that happened ages ago, and I have been going to Bottom Pinchers Therapy for awhile. But last night my seven year old came out of the bathroom nakid and it was so totally-butt-open-season that I could not help myself. Who can resist that sort of temptation. I managed to get one pinch in before he squealed and shut the door, deciding to get dressed.

I think I need more therapy.

Aftermath

2009-07-06T12:48:00.000-07:00

We spent Independance Day with family. The plan was to be at their house by four. At about two, I was thinking a nap sounded better than actually getting dressed for the day, but my husband pulled that guilt trip, you know the one about, "You promised the kids, what are you going to tell them?" and, "You set this all up, my family is expecting us," and, "There will be food." I'm not sure which argument worked the best on me, but we made it to my Brother and Sister -in- Law's home in record time.

I love my husbands family, we come from really different backgrounds. ---Separate sides of a river, North and South. There is so much that makes us different. They tan...I rust. They drink Crystal Light, I drink diet-coke. You know, those sort of culture differences that make life in a family interesting. My Sister-in-law is clever, and organized, and she enjoys a good family gathering. She made baby back ribs just for us! YUM. Serisoulsy. I love my sweet meat. My husband shuns anything with a bone in it. But I grew up with good BBQ. Sister-in-law had never made ribs before, and had them all ready to go on the grill when we arrived, slathered in a yummmmmmmy sauce. She asked us if we had any idea how to make them. "They take as long to cook as hamburgers right? Just throw them on the grill?"

I guess that depends on how you like them, chewy and slightly raw, or tender and fully cooked.

I love that we all had a good laugh about the ribs as we googled recipes. People. This is something exactly like I would do. Prepare a new dish, for company, that I have never prepared before. Like the time I tried to make real chocolate frosting for a birthday cake. The Party was in session and I was sending my husband out for last minute canned frosting while a big pot of lumpy, over cooked chocolate mess hardened on the stove. Or like the time I tried to make matzaball soup. I have eaten it. Seems simple enough---but the matzaballs have to sit for a bit before hand and there is no cheating on this. Unless you like cracker rocks in your soup. Yeah, that is de-lish! Now my kids think that is how it is suppose to be. So I loved that Sister-in-Law could be teased by one and all and yet the day was still full of fun and laughter.

Plus, there were plenty of munchies...fruit...salads...and deserts. I ate so much I am still full.

And the ribs turned out great.

_________

Notice the pale backgroud? I was looking for a new tempalte with lively color, but not too many distracting images or without any plain tan or brown or orange, and without a HUGE header and I haven't found it yet.

________

No jobs yet. Looking. Frantically.

_________

I am going to visit everyone in my reader, and in my fav blogs folders! This is my goal for the week. Maybe I will visit twice! Yeah! Go me!

A bundle of JOY

2009-06-14T20:28:00.000-07:00

I am just a bit crazy. My husband said,"I am not even listening to you."

My Dad said, "Dapoppins, I am gonna wring your neck if you don't quit talking like that,"

My girl friend laughed and said, "I don't think so."

But I am sure that I am right and everybody else in the world is wrong.

POSITIVE. Because we all know, that A BABY would fix everything in my life.

(((pats readers on back and hopes no one is choking)))

Yes. I said it. You can quote me on it. If I could have another baby, time would stop for me. The world would yield to all the needs of my baby and me, I would still have another child at home instead of preparing to wave goodbye to my youngest in September... I would have a good reason for being fat and eating whatever I want, a good reason to take long naps, a good reason for being cranky. A good reason for staying at home instead of having to go to work, because. Seriously. IT IS ALL ABOUT ME!

I am having a bit of a crisis here. Too much change. And if I could have another baby, I would be so consumed with my body functions that I wouldn't notice anything going on around me. A baby in my life wouldn't signal change, just a slight stretching. Since I have done it before, I know I can do it again. I would worry. I would stress, and I would have excuses for frequent pitiful outbursts instead of having people calmly take my by the hand and saying that, "Change is okay, change is good. You need this."

It is a good thing we don't have fire-arms in this home. I am just saying. The next person who tells me change is good might just come face to fire-arm. If I had one. Which I don't.

This is the the list of here-to-fore mentioned and unmentioned changes;

1. I am applying for a job as a pre-school teacher. I can do this. I will enjoy this. I would rather stay home.
2. IF I get teaching job, kids will all go to private school full time. Kids really want to go to school with other kids.
3. My husband is making a job transition. That is, come September, there is no job for him. He is looking not only for a new job, but a new career. And he is happy about it. Makes me want to smack him. How dare he be positive?
4. My youngest child, who did not go to pre-school because I wanted to protect her from germs and because I would rather sleep in, is going to go to Kindergarten. My last baby. My last reason for getting out of bed. Yeah, I know, that is exaggerating. I would get out of bed eventually anyway, but she makes me get up, and while she sips her juice in my lap, I sip my coffee and check my email. No more of that when I have to get myself and four kids ready for school.

If I had another baby 3 of those changes would not take place. I would have a young baby to snuggle instead of my big girl, and I would have to stay home to take care of young baby and protect him from germs and the outside world. And the boys would just have to home school their sister too, so that I can take long naps, RIGHT?

So. Now, how can I get my tubes untied without paying for a doctor visit? Hummmmmmmm?

(please note, there is no baby in my future, change is inevitable, and I reserve the right for kicking and screaming along the way.)

Hey there

2009-05-31T10:39:00.000-07:00

I have been trying to be more positive and grateful lately, but discovered that I have a serious problem with that. I mean, heck. How can you be positive and still be viciously sarcastic? How can I be grateful and still over exaggerate all my daily trials and tribulations so that my life seems interesting and entertaining? Tell me How?

Example. It is a beautiful day. The sun is shinging, the birds are litterly singing outside my window.

That is dull. Dull dull dull, no laugh, chuckle, or shared understanding to be found in that. I mean, who cares. Yeah. So? It might be intersting if the sun was shining, the birds were singing, I took the kids to the park and saw Hugh Jackman there with his kids. And oh he is really such a good dad, watch him lift his dauthter over his head. Look at his smile. His sholders. His muscles...O'come on. You know you want to look.

But Hugh hasn't moved in down the street, and the sun is lovely. Yada yada yada.

Example 2: It was such a beautiful day today I decided to clean my bathroom. First I put on my toxic suit, waders, rubber gloves, mask, hair net and pulled out the industrial stuff. Then I opened the window because I couldn't breathe, and a bird flew in lit on my arms. More birds joined me, until we were humming a little tune. Squirrels came, and grew ten times their size from the fumes but still had happy Disney smiles and helped me clean the sink...errr something like that. But at least that's interesting.

Pay no attention to the blogger behind the curtain, folks. She is just a tad bit nutts.

I haven't been blogging. Or visiting much. If I haven't visitied you I am telling you right now it's not YOU, its me. You are wonderful. Kind. Humerous. Entertaining. Really you are. So what if you haven't showered all week because you would rather blog. What do I care. I haven't showered either. It has nothing to do with you or your fabulous writing skills or your enchanting imagination.

No. It is all me. Just me. Please don't cry. You knew this day would come. In the beginning, we were perfect for each other. I liked eggs sunny side up, so did you. But I didn't really. I was just saying that to make you happy. I wanted you to like me. I did. I would say anything to make you happy. But I wasn't being true to you. I wasn't being honest. YOU deserve better.

No. This isn't the end. I will still be here. I will still check on you. Did you finally buy that Snuggie you have been eyeing? I want to know. But things are changing. I am going to be more busy.

I am going to get a job.

change

2009-05-30T14:47:00.000-07:00

This music is stuck in my head. But I can't think why.

A belated thanks to our vetrans and military.

I can't belive that it is June. I have got some serious procrastinating skilzs. I think I should be nomminated for something. Perhaps the award could contain something caffinated, so that I can have more energy while enjoying my procrastinating??? What do you think?

Kids are healty, I am healthy (as far as I know) and change is on the horizon.

Ch-ch-cha- change.

Yeah. If you have ever read this blog before you know that my least two favorite things in the world are CHANGE and buggy worms on the driveway.

For years, I have fortified myself against things like change. I don't move the furniture around. The same pictures always hang on my walls, I not only still have my peach princess prom dress, I can still wear the darn thing and look hawwwwt. Heck, I have even kept the same husband for a number of years!

But change is on the horizon.

YUCK.

Maybe I just need to turn up the music. Anyone want to play that video again?

Thinking of you.

2009-05-10T10:02:00.000-07:00

I worked on this post for hours.

not really. I just copied it from an email. I don't know who wrote it. Who is it who writes these things? This is better than a Hallmark card.

From Mommy to Mom to Mother

Real Mothers don't eat quiche; they don't have time to make it.

Real Mothers know that their kitchen utensils are probably in the sandbox.

Real Mothers often have sticky floors, filthy ovens and happy kids.

Real Mothers know that dried play dough doesn't come out of carpets.

Real Mothers don't want to know what the vacuum just sucked up.

Real Mothers sometimes ask 'Why me?' and get their answer when a little voice says, 'because I love you best.'

Real Mothers know that a child's growth is not measured by height or years or grade...

It is marked by the progression of Mommy to Mom to Mother...

4 YEARS OF AGE - My Mommy can do anything!
8 YEARS OF AGE - My Mom knows a lot! A whole lot!

12 YEARS OF AGE - My Mother doesn't really know quite everything.

14 YEARS OF AGE - Naturally, Mother doesn't know that, either.

16 YEARS OF AGE - Mother? She's hopelessly old fashioned.

18 YEARS OF AGE - That old woman? She's way out of date!

25 YEARS OF AGE - Well, she might know a little bit about it.

35 YEARS OF AGE - Before we decide, let's get Mom's opinion.

45 YEARS OF AGE - Wonder what Mom would have thought about it?

65 YEARS OF AGE - Wish I could talk it over with Mom.

The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole, but true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows, and the beauty of a woman with passing years only grows!

Happy Mother's Day

pictures

2009-04-23T19:08:00.000-07:00

There was a point to my March Pity Party. There really was. I was going to get it all out, feel sorry for myself, share in the misery, the dullness, the embarrassing moments that still haunt me, and then, instead of being a wallow-er, a pig in the mire so to speak, I was going to put on my happy hat, and my rose colored glasses and play the "glad game" for the rest of the year.

Yep. That was the plan.

AND I was going to get things done. Finish what I start. Be responsible and reliable and readable, the three most important R's of blogging.

But I haven't' gotten around to any of that. I think I might still be stuck in March. And avoiding you because I haven't fulfilled my self-inflicted obligations.

And because I haven't visited in a bit. And because I love using And to start sentences because it makes me feel accomplished, I will leave you with some eye candy only a grandma will care about. Yes. It is time for those unbelievably cute photos of my unbelievably cute kids.

Special NOTE: Thank you Mom, for saying while visiting us, "I don't know how you do it..." Those seven little words make me feel so justified in so many ways.

Snacking on frozen blueberries.

This is what happens when you give a 5 year old make-up for her birthday...

Spring views at the Portland Japanese Gardens.

Visitning the Portland Zoo with unknown woman who might or might not be my mom...

My children with that woman who keeps following us...

Blooms from the Chinese Gardens

Posing before going to church on Easter

My Mom's new baby

Poop is not properly grouped...

2009-04-15T07:51:00.000-07:00

I have to get my poop in a group--there is stuff all over!

Remember last year at this time? A million nasty, maggoty, damsel fly larva worms oozed and wiggled out to terroirze me on the way to my car? T-H-E-Y-'R-E back....And I am not ashamed of the gagging and cry of disgust I make when I see them.

This is the last day of state proficincy testing for my older boys. We have been getting up and out of the house by 8AM ---Gasp, Choke--This is kinda early for this homeschool family.

I haven't sent out prizes yet, if you were wondering, "Hummm, Dapoppins said I won something, I don't know what she said, but I got nothing, and she said something," And I haven't picked a Foot-In-Mouth winner. BUT, I also haven't eaten the chocolate I got for the Foot-In-Mouth winner and that is a good thing, considering My Monthy Yucky Friend came back to visit at an unexpected time and caused me no end of moaning and groaning. I should say, "is still causing me,"

Speaking of Prizes, Blogger, Bee and Rose is having a hugely monsterish give away. She has so many prizes I can't choose. Like cute aprons? She has one. Like frightening rubber duckies? she has those too. Like great stuff from Etsy, Oh yeah, it is on her list. Go CHECK HER OUT. Before this give away ends.

MONSTER Give away

Incase I don't post before Easter...

2009-04-09T17:31:00.000-07:00

(Here we are gathered in our Easter Best. Don't we look thrilled? )

I wish I could get my boys to wear slacks and jackets and black shoes, and I have a feeling my daughter would only wear the bonnet and gloves for about a second. But oh, how fine they would look.

I think these bunny rabbits are already having fun, don't you? Do you think they have been drinking a bit of the Passover wine too? They look a little glassy eyed.

Here is my daughter two Easter's ago. They boys were so busy hunting eggs I couldn't get them to stand still for a second. But she was very careful of her dress.

And one more vintage card, since I fogot to put them in the mail...

Remembering why it really is a time of "New Birth."

Personally Speaking

2009-04-07T16:50:00.000-07:00

Okay, I know this is too much information, but if you can't blog about something what the heck can you do?

I have heavy periods. And not the kind from an old typewriter that go at the end of the sentence. You know, heavy cycles. (That's right guys walk away now. There is nothing at all to see here, and we all know this is your least favorite part about women.)

My problem started after my first child. I'd never used anything but a pad before that and it worked just find thankyou very much. But after the first kid, well, it was like there wasn't anyplace I didn't get a bit of mess each month. Under my belly button. On The back of my pants. The toilet seat. Yes. Very disgusting.

But why didn't anyone tell me there would be this kind of change so I could be prepared? Why do women keep this a secret? Come on ladies. There is nothing wrong with being too honest, is there? I think you didn't say anything to this poor woman (me) because you knew there is no pad on earth made short of a full diaper that was going to work.

So I had to switch to those other things. Only, they didn't work very well either. But, good enough. I guess.

Then I had my C-Section and my tubes tied. And boy howdy, six years later and I had to start all over to find something that works. And I don't want to tell you about what happens at night. I really CANT afford new sheets and a new matrices cover every month. (How do hospitals get out blood stains? what is the secret?) The only thing that works now is a combination pad and tampon. And even that doesn't really work.

I think that the videos shown to twelve year old girls in health class need a new spokes person. Someone who will tell the truth. "Darlings, this is perfectly natural, but I want you to know now, your period will never include a the soft music, and sea breeze of a Tampax commercial. No, you won't be smiling like you have some little womanly secret men can't understand...and skipping down sandy beaches in a bathing suit feeling protected. And if you have days where you can do that now, just wait, my little pretty girls. There will come a day when every single pair of underwear you own will have a nasty stain if you don't use a diaper during your period. MARK MY WORDS." follow this with evil laughter....

This is all on my mind because my last period lasted 3 weeks. You heard me. This usually happens after I have had a baby. No baby here. What the heck? Is it menopause? Is it my thyroid? And when does this mean the next one will start? I expected the cycle to start five days ago. Hello, body? What the heck are you thinking to screw with me like this? We have a schedule and you are screwing it up, now how am I going to know when I can eat a bag of Reese's and break out the ice-cream? Now how will I know when I can get away with being a ~~bitch~~ witch?

Gah!

2009-04-05T10:45:00.000-07:00

I planned a lovely party with cake and lots of pathetic-ness, but I can't get it to post. There is video, people.
I was going to add wine, but the only wine in the house is a jug of burgundy I use for cooking and it just didn't seem to go well with sweets. And to tell you the truth, when I am feeling sorry for myself, I'd rather have sweets.

So, contest runs though next week, so please, don't make me finish this party alone, and tell me what you did when you put your foot in your mouth. I KNOW there are not only 6 of us in the world with this problem.

2009-04-02T16:05:00.000-07:00

I guess March is over, huh? It still looks very March-ie outside the kitchen window. But my kids spent all day yesterday popping out of closets and hampers, telling me they were gravely injured and going to die , and generally driving me crazy that I guess yesterday was April 1.

Note to self. NEVER schedule big finale during a week that isn't a full week, and during Spring break when the husband is home. NEVER. Because you will get nothing done.

The Once in a Lifetime Foot-In-Mouth Contest.

You know that time you said something really embarrassing and stupid? Something you really should have thought out first? Something that still makes you say,"Yes, I know, I'm an idiot."

You were only trying to be funny and sarcastic and instead you were racist, sexist, elitist, skinniest, or whatever -ist it was....?

The time you asked someone when they were due with the baby and she said, "I'm not pregnant."

Yeah. That's going to be that kind of contest.

You can post your entry on your blog, (I'll link here) or something like that. And there will be a prize for this, too. Only it will have to be chocolate. Don't you need chocolate when you say something stupid? I do. It is the only thing that soothes me. I'm not saying it is going to be expensive chocolate. I'm not saying it will even be a lot of chocolate. The point is, there will be chocolate!

Lilacspecs said: CB and I play an MMORPG and occasionally we blockade, which is an aspect of the game that often requires quick communication to other players.
So you're often hearing voices that you don't hear often or have never heard before and sometimes a female character in game may be a male person in reality or vice versa.
So CB and I were on Ventrilo with several people to talk while blockading and we kept hearing a vary deep southern voice. I mean, like, Johnny Cash deep and CB we both thought the voice was great so I said out loud to everyone, "I don't know who's voice that is, but I think he's great."
And someone else says, "Oh, that's Limpy."

Limpy is a woman.
In game and in real life. I wanted to DIE. But I just said, "Oh, well I guess I was talking about someone else then" in an attempt to remove my foot from my mouth gracefully but then someone else said," Nope, you were definitely talking about the right person."

Ugh, if I could have disappeared right then and there I would've. I thought CB would burst a blood vessel, he was laughing so hard.

AND lilacspecs said:
Heh, that's a little worse than this past Friday when I was at a language fair in France and started making comments to the woman behind the Canada table about how Quebec wants to be it's own country. Ends up she wasn't a French volunteer like I'd thought but rather a Canadian diplomat.
Oops.

Confydenim said: Mine comes back to bite me. Lately on face book.

I love my pediatrician. I love his front office people. I cried when one of them left. not long ago -- maybe it's longer than I realize -- I was talking to one of the front desk people. He's a great guy. In the reserve. Former history major.

I can not remember what it was we were talking about -- but I remember my answer was so eloquent --
"You're just a file clerk"

I'm still sure I have toe goo stuck in a molar. I apologized and apologized and apologized. I had to explain that I had my tongue wrapped around my eye teeth and couldn't see what I was saying. I had mixed up my words -- it didn't come out right.

I'm pretty sure I was very, very re

He has laughed and laughed and laughed at me because of it.

I'm still embarrassed even though I can't remember the entire conversation.

Fete et Fleur said:
Years ago, I was working for a church. It was my first meeting with the main church secretary and I said to her, "When are you expecting your baby?" OOPS! Yes, she wasn't having a baby!

(These are not entries just comments from previous posts. However, they would count as perfect entries in the Great Foot in Mouth Contest. Hey, is that a size 7 pair of Red Pumps in your mouth? Can I have them when you are finished?)

Stylish foot in mouth by Dapoppins featuring Valentino heels & wedges

More to Come

2009-03-25T16:45:00.000-07:00

We have had guest bloggers.

Prize give aways.

Laughs, chuckles and chortles.

Tears, groans, and moments of absurdity.

Is the Party over yet?

NO! Have you visited this blogger? Paige has joined the party by posting about the pitiable all month long. If you can't read every post, there is a poem that makes no sense whatsoever, until your realize how stinkin hard it was to start each sentence with the correct letter. And there is a walk down memory lane that includes toenail clippings. Not something you should ever miss.

Have you visited this blogger yet? Lisa has been blogging longer than I have. But she has more names than all of my children put together, and many disguises. She lives in the same state real hillbillies come from an deals with daily issues by throwing wise cracks at them. She recently posted about a gift from a relative that makes you want to go find your double barrel shot-gun and hunt a certain turkey.

There is still the GREAT FOOT IN MOUTH contest too...coming next week. I can't wait to hear more about how you have embarrassed yourselves in front of witnesses. The grand prize for this is chocolate. Ummmm. Chocolate.

Guest Post 3

2009-03-23T20:57:00.000-07:00

Avery Gray is a woman of many large and beautious tallents. About a year and a half ago she burst onto the blogging scene and managed to toss about wise cracks and sarcasam and gennerante more commants than other vetran bloggers.

So we kidnapped her.

Because it isn't fair when newbie blogger becomes more popular than her predecessors. We tied her up, covered her "large and beautious tallents" with a turtleneck, and I am only letting her out now for my pity party because I feel a bit bad for her. Man. I didn't know being tied up in a closet and force fed diet Coke and tomatoes could be bad for your thyroid.

But, I guess it is. So, be warned.

When my good friend, Dapoppins, asked me to contribute a guest post for her March pity party, I eagerly agreed.

When she told me it didn’t pay, I filled her gas tank with sugar.

But even though that gave HER excellent blog fodder, I did feel a little guilty. Guilty enough, apparently, to overlook the lack of monetary recompense. After all, I’m nothing if not a giver.

But then I hit a major snag—my life is perfect and not at all pitiable in any way.

Okay, that’s a total lie. My life sucks lemon peels. The real problem is choosing just one thing to complain about. Fortunately, recent developments in my health have facilitated a rash of pathetic life experiences that are proving exceedingly pitiable.

Yay!

Nothing could be quite so sad, though, as my latest trip to the pharmacy—my home away from home.

In case you weren’t aware, I was diagnosed several years ago with PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome), and about a month ago, my doctor discovered that I also have a goiter likely resulting from hypothyroidism.

I also have a hangnail, and it smarts like the dickens.

Even though that’s all quite pathetic, that’s not the “Aww!” part. It gets worse, believe me.

I’m on three different types of some serious medication—one for insulin resistance, one for excess androgens, and one for hypothyroidism. I’m also soon to be placed on cholesterol medication, as my cholesterol has inexplicable skyrocketed. That makes 4—count ‘em, 4—pills I’ll have to take every day of my life.

I’m 31, not freakin’ 85!

Okay, having to take pills is not such a terrible fate. The alternative could be much, much worse. But there’s a dark side to all this pill-popping business—a horrific side effect they don’t tell you about in any after-school special I’ve ever seen.

I was actually…

…oh, the shame…

…actually…eyeing…

DAY OF THE WEEK PILL MINDERS!!

(You know what those things are, right? Plastic containers with little compartments for your daily medications.)

I can never look you in the eye again.

There I was, waiting patiently for the pharmacist to fill my prescriptions, and their bright colors and organizational promise caught my attention. I was defenseless against their siren song.

I proceeded to debate the merits of buying one of these contraptions—on the plus side, I’d know at a glance whether I’d taken my pills on any given day; on the other hand, I’M THIRTY-FREAKIN’-ONE!! If my mind is so far gone that I can’t keep track of a few little pills, I may as well just cash out now.

Still, I found myself comparing.

‘This one probably holds more, but doesn’t look as durable. Plus, what if I take that trip to Boca with the girls from the bridge club? That’s not going to fit in my fanny pack!’

Oi.

Let the pity commence.

Putting my foot in it. AGAIN

2009-03-22T10:39:00.000-07:00

I wish I could say that I was a sensitive, culturally aware person who never made a public faux-pas. Obviously I’m not.

But at least I am not the President of the US making a joke on television about his bad bowling by comparing his skills to the Special Olympics. Let me say right now…When it comes to bowling, this granddaughter of a certified bowling Champion; can’t bowl squat, can’t bowl while squatting, can’t get a strike with the bumpers on, so even the current President of the US who has a bowling alley in his residence, is a better bowler than I am.

But I am not actually talking about bowling. I am talking about Foot-in-Mouth.
And let me say, I am so relieved that I am not the only one out there who speaks before thinking.

Another example of my sticking my whole foot in my mouth …..

I was at choir practice sitting next to one of my friends. I don’t remember exactly what we were talking about, but came about we were discussing immigrants and foreigners. Now I had been blessed to have a good friend from Romania while in high-school. I think she and her family might even been political refugees because it was bad over there at this time. My senior year, before the fall of the iron curtain, I actually visited several communist countries. Romania, under the last years of Chachescu, was one of these countries. My time there was incredible. All this experience with the loving Romanian people, made young me an expert on them. And I felt I could explain some of their strange cultural habits with some amount of authority.

So I was sitting in choir with my friend, talking about Romanian’s, in a large room full of people.

“They are wonderful, generous people,” I said. “Hugging, kissing, and very generous with what they had. But the hugging was kind of hard. I knew this girl in high-school from Romania, and she smelled like hot wet wool. They kind of all smelled like that, some more than others. Sometimes if you hug a Romanian, you have to breathe through your mouth. When we were there, they had gifts for us, and shared the best they could. They were so kind. But it was strange. Despite the food shortages, all of the older women were heavy. The same size of heavy too. And it’s not like they didn’t get exercise. There were no cars, people were still using wagons, and had to walk everywhere. And their choices of clothing combinations; dark florals mixed with pastel polka-dots and a Christmas Sweater with a moose on it, while their hair is covered by a bright pink scarf. I think they get dressed in the dark, you know, because the electricity is state run and shut of city wide at the same time at night. …”

And on and on I went, until this woman in front of us turned around.

She had perfect hair, manicured nails, and smelled like expensive perfume. I think she was a Realtor. “Is that so?” She asked with a smile.

“Oh yes, every person from Romania I have ever met needed deodorant.”

“Can you tell where I am from?” she asked with a bigger smile and a wicked twinkle in her eye.

My face turned red, my belly dropped and I so didn't want to say it...there was no way this put-together woman could be from...

"Romania!" She laughed some more, and I am not sure it was a nice laugh.

Guest Post 2

2009-03-17T20:02:00.000-07:00

Here is a guest post I promised by world renowned blogger Momo Fali. Okay...so maybe I read it on her blog, thought it epitomized how children see life, spit up coffee with her wise crack ending, and decided to steal it. However, it is not plagiarism if I have permission to post (I do) and if I am not calming it as mine (I'm not.)

But I do claim that I found this post hilarious. It fits right in with the ~~life~~ month I am having.

2/8/9 Soul Mates by Momo Fali

The kids were sitting at the table the other day, reading messages on little candy hearts, when my son asked my daughter a question. She didn't know the answer, so she asked me, "Mom, what's a soul mate?"

I replied, "Well, it's when two things are meant to be together. Like with me and Daddy. It's love like no other love, and nothing can ever come between you."

She thought for a second about how to properly relay this information to her little brother, then she turned to him and said, "It's like how our dog feels about her bowl of food."

And just like that, I went from someone's soul mate to just another piece of meat.

Is that a toenail in your teeth?

2009-03-16T17:52:00.000-07:00

Ever stuck your foot in your mouth?

Well, near about the end of March I want you to tell me all about it. Or just send me a picture. Oh, howdy, that is something I'd like to see, a woman with her foot shoved in her mouth. NOT.

But babies are cute when they do it.

I'm always trying to be cute when I do it.

So here is your first installment of my non-winning, non-entries to my own contest. I

If you feel embarrassed for me --feel free to send chocolate.

We have this family of friends that we hardly ever see. I was at their wedding. We teased them about selling their two seater truck after the birth of their second child. The husband, we'll call him Rey, said there would be no second child and they wouldn't need to sell the truck. HA. Several years later they have five beautiful children! And then Rey, and a three of those kids, were in my wedding.

We hardly ever see them now. Or talk to them.

But when we do,it's one of those great relationships that doesn't change. It is like slipping into the bestest winter slippers. Maybe a little forgotten, but they still fit perfect.

Now Rey is not a big man, but he has a big personality. His wife, Cathy, is neither timid or shy, but she isn't the showman/commander that Rey is. I am always forgetting that Rey isn't much taller than I am, (read, almost same height) In my head, he's a big strong guy, a police officer, a comic actor, and a wonderful wonderful singer. Rey also happens to be a black man.

So husband and kids and I go to visit Rey and Cathy and their five kids, and Cathy opens the door with a wide smile and her gentle laugh of greeting. Rey comes up behind her, with his big (average) booming self.

And I say, "It's been so long since I've seen you, you've turned white."

Oh. Yes. I. Did. Who knows what I meant...I didn't mean he had turned in to a white man...I was kind of thinking his tan had faded a lot and he was looking quite ashy...but my words came out of my mouth and echoed up and down the street and back around again.

Rey and Cathy weren't insulted. But I was mortified. I still am mortified.

And that is my foot in the mouth for today. I am gonna go brush my teeth now, y'all.

Prizes

2009-03-12T12:20:00.000-07:00

UPDATE: Okay. I could have made this, fair and stuff. But I don't have to if I don't want to cause it is my PARTY! I picked three people to give stuff too: Paige, (because she really knows how to enjoy a party) Mother Mayhem, (because she knows who Anita Renfro is) and Bee and Rose, because she was the only one who actually expressed an interest in the cd. I know. That wasn't a democratic way to pick winners at all. Email me right away at dapoppins@gmail so I can start procrastinating on when I am going to send out your stuff.

I am not very good at making decisions. I am a people pleaser, I admit it. Want me to kiss your butt? Well, I probably wouldn't go that far. But I'm more than willing to pinch it. Tomorrow is prize day. All night I was thinking today is Friday. I woke up, sure that today was Friday and I was going to have to procrastinate all day about picking a random prize winner. Or maybe I wouldn't do random. Maybe I would just pick someone who I thought might enjoy a good book or need a photo album. Or some music to listen to.

I don't suppose anyone would be interested in this:

This isn't the music with words, but that pounding drum stuff that I really noticed when I saw this movie and I thought, "HEY, that is good conflict scene writing music!" And then for a month I thought, "I can't write anything until I get that music. I must have it. It's not too much. I'll just put it on the credit card. No one will notice."

My credit card noticed.

And then I felt guilty.

And then I burned it to my computer. So now I can feel good and give it away, if anyone maybe wants it. This music cd contains soon to be classics like: Phascination Phase, Bella's Lullaby and my particular favorite Edward at Her Bed. ( Okay, I have listened to it,I do like it, the score is good for writing conflict, however, I can't tell you which song is which. Some of them sound the same, but I happen to like redundant music when I write, it's less distracting----I just had to say that, just so you wouldn't bought this cd so I could play Edward at Her Bed while I was in bed---)

So what must you do to get this cd? You must comment on a certain post. And I am not going to tell you which one. If you don't know, you haven't been sharing my Pity Party and I do not want to party alone. I want the whole world to wallow in the depths of sorrow and agony with me. OH YES I DO. So you must find the correct post and comment there.

And seriously, You can choose your own prize, there are pictures of the other ones too. Somewhere. I am too ~~lazy~~ busy to post them again.

All of that said...this hasn't really been a pitiful week for me. I won three things from other generous bloggers! A sweet and smart Blond gave me a gift certificate for a new sassy blog template. ( Help me Choose!)

A generous writer and reviewer, Delia, sent me this great book. I started flipping through last night and was amazed at what I saw! You will never guess! Practical and do-able advice. Seriously. Often I will get books like this...(actually I am giving one away if you want it) that just don't answer my questions. Journey of A Strong Willed Child answers a lot of questions I had.

And the third prize is a print from The Victorian Lady's etsy shop. I love etsy. And I love these paintings. I have narrowed this down to three, but I still don't know which to choose. Any ideas for me? The Victorian Lady at These Are The Days was so kind to pick me as a winner, but left me with a terrible dilemma. How can I pick just ONE?

And after all of this loveliness, the visit to the dentist was a snap. We have to go again, but there is a chance we might even survive that to.

Tuesday

2009-03-10T00:43:00.000-07:00

Are you tooting your party horns? I am posting this in the weee hours of Tuesday morning...darn push the clock forward nonsense...and I have a big, noisy horn here in my hand. I am so tempted to take this sucker, quietly go into my boys room, and start blowing on it.

Oh man. How fun would that be?

But I won't. Cause ole' party pooper, my darling dearest husband is asleep too and he gets up in like four hours or something. He wouldn't be thrilled with me to say the least.

Life is just not fair.

It snowed today. And it sleeted. And it even rained. And then for about five minutes, the sun came out and it was almost 50 degrees outside. ALL IN ONE DAY.

So. Tuesday. Oh, the dreaded, evil, horrible, no good is going to come of it, guilt laden, I-am-the-worst-mother-ever, TUESDAY.

It seems oddly fitting that all of my lovely children should have to visit the dentist tomorrow ( in the month of March) to get cavities filled. EVEN cavities in BABY TEETH and cavities in PERMANENT TEETH (notice all the capitals. I am yelling in my head. And blowing my horn a little too.) My youngest child may even need a "mini root canal." That is what the dentist called it. (WHAT? You mean you need to hallow out the pulpy roots of my babies BABY teeth? Your just doing this for money aren't you? You want to go to Hawaii on my babies' baby teeth? ). ---I am shouting in my head again. Someone. Please. I think I need a sedative.

How is your month going? Did you comment on this post where I got to be a thin Polly Pocket and eat brownies and you got nothing but a laugh? If you comment there will be a token prize to the commenter. I decided to let you CHOOSE your own prize. Because everything I think up isn't good enough.

And how pathetic is that?

...wait for it

2009-03-08T13:16:00.000-07:00

Guest Post Starring: HOLLY!!!!!!

( where we go on a wonderful outing involving children, browinies, and weeping in the rain. Awesome Regifted PRIZE for random commenter! That means you! Drawing Friday the 13th!)

this is the post i am posting for dapoppins today.

dapoppins has invited me to her pity party!

OH MY BOB can i party it up pity-style!

i was having troubles focusing on just one thing to moan about. but in the meantime i decided to take dapoppins out with me and see what happened.

first off, no sooner had we got into town then EVERYONE, including dapoppins, decided they were hungry. fine fine fine fine fine, i'm a bottomless fricking pit of money, apparnetly. how will i ever ever ever get to not work when every body wants me to continuously pay for brownies that i could bake at blooooody home!!! (um, but don't, because then i'd eat one and i can't BLOODY eat one until i lose the last four frickity fracking pounds.)

so we were in line at schmiardino's. i saw a plain bagel i could sniff while everyone ELSE was enjoying their brownies and scones and OH MY BOB ARE YOU GOING TO EAT SUGARY THINGS ALL DAY?!?!?!

i was on a constant loop of

'will you stop doing that'

and

'if you keep fighting over it you're not getting it'

and

'you can *both* carry it, dangit'

such that the woman behind me in line was giggling at me fairly regularly. YEAH! MY LIFE IS FREAKIN' HILARIOUS! HERE, YOU WANNA KID?

no, of course she couldn't have one of my adorable children. not for longer than 30 minutes.

so we finally got seated. i noticed that as it was the type of cafe where you stand in line, it was not also the type of cafe that had nice soothing music. dang.

so while the ~~whiny gits'~~ lovely adorable children's faces were stuffed with sugary foodstuffs, dapoppins and i had a lovely chat, wherein i moaned constantly about how that bagel did not smell OR taste like a brownie.

she was sympathizing, but only nodded, as her mouth was full of brownie, too.

after that it was on to the next errand. on the way, we stopped in the music shop.

good bOB do i love music shops, because you could listen to cds on the listening posts.
WRONG!!! all the posts were gone. WHY FOR THE LOVE OF BOB WHY?! well i was surely not going to buy a cd i hadn't listened to. what were we, back in the 50s?

and i sure wasn't going to buy THIS album. i was doing enough of my own whining, i didn't need gilbert to sing it.

we completed the errands in only twice the time it would have taken me to do it withOUT children, then it was home, james, and don't spare the horses. particularly in the rain. and my camera battery was out, so i couldn't take a picture of me and dapoppins moaning at the rain from the vantage point of the car. but believe me, if i'd have not been so silly as to not bring the spare battery, you'd have SEEN MOANING! AT RAIN!

well, i remembered i WAS going to moan about how i have to do the dishes all the time. OH! h-dude had done the dishes while i was out.

THE MAN WAY!!!

which means :

a) the silverware hadn't been done.

b) many of the glasses hadn't been done.

are these not part of dish-washing detail?

why didn't anyone let *me* know?! i'd have not done them a LONG TIME AGO!

i went on and on about it. dapoppins was getting a bit fed up, i think. particularly because my swear-word-to-non-swear-word rate was increasing exponentially, sometimes using the word rhyming with 'HAMN!', occasionally a word rhyming with 'SANSKRIT!' and a shortened version of the phrase 'FIRE TRUCKING!' dappoppins informed me that she did NOT like this language. i tried to stop.

music usually calms me down, particularly PIANO music. well, i'd bought a piano for that purpose. AND THE THROWER HAS ALL BUT RUINED IT!!! several of the keys are lethal in their hiddeousness. one doesn't work at all, and one is the accused in a murder trial beginning this week. THANKFULLY i was not an accomplice as i wasn't home at the time.

by this time i was developing a headache, and told dapoppins of my earlier-in-the-week headache woes which kept me from giving her this tour of my life earlier. i showed her the pills.

it was quite a day. i'm sure it will be awhile before dapoppins asks me to whine on her blog again. ..

although i enjoyed it, and feel quite a lot better. and i don't think it's the 12 pills speaking. :) well not the bitter ones. ..

2009-03-05T11:12:00.000-08:00

So, your sitting there and you're thinking: "I am here at Dapoppins' Place. Where is the Party? Where is the chocolate? Where are the violins, or at least some decent Blues tunes?" (scroll down or click Scream for tunes...)

Well pour yourself a virtual cup of something alcoholic. I choose this:

and go here to read this funny, hilarious, and slightly gross, and really heart stopping (literally) post.

I really tired

2009-03-02T09:45:00.000-08:00

upside down - by Dapoppins on Polyvore.com

"No matter how many times Dapoppins stood on her head, she couldn't change the fact that the Good Lord had decided to put Dapoppins' boobs on up-sided-down."

Today has something to do with Dr. Seuss's birthday and I'm thinking in Seuss rhyme. " Oh the things she did do, on the places she did go, on the people she did ask, to make this party a stinkin' huge smash"

This week, my pal Holly (a wonderful woman who I have never personally met) is going to guest- post an adventure the likes of which you have never-ever seen. And for that post, whenever it is posted, there will be a prize for a random commenter. I have the prize all picked out and everything.

I just haven't taken pictures of it.

I took pictures of some of the other give-away stuff. But I couldn't find this one thing. Why does crap like that happen to me all the time? I get all ready to do something and then one part is missing.

Does it have something to do with my cluttered home? My lack of organization? My grand tendency for dramatic procrastination? Or is it because a horse kicked me in the head as a kid and I passed-out-for-who-knows-how-long and never bothered to tell anyone about it. OR, maybe it was that penny I swallowed. I don't know, but what ever it is, I don't have the correct picture for the first give-away.

Maybe looking at some of the other stuff will tantalize you?

Pity Me

2009-02-28T12:34:00.001-08:00

Pity me - by Dapoppins on Polyvore.com

All the things I should be doing I am not doing. Instead, I've been playing with this.

soon...

2009-02-28T12:34:00.000-08:00

Censor Yourself

2009-02-23T10:29:00.002-08:00

My husband dosen't really like me to blog about him. I think even when I write things that make fun of me, and our relationship, it makes him a little uncomfortable. And I respect that. (for the most part) But I got to tell you, there are some quirks in our relationship that are really funny and you all are sooooo missing out.

Now don't go crying censorship on me. If I choose to withhold certain information is that actual censorship? What if I hog the blog, and only give you one perspective, one side of the story, one point of view---mine.

Yeah. I do have a point here. I was thinking of this thing the political talking-heads are talking about. Called the fairness doctrine. Have you heard of it? What do you think of it?

The Fairness Doctrine and Equal Time requirements are basically a move to make certain media fair by forcing broadcasters to air different points of view. Not all media. Not newspapers. Not television. Not the evening news. Not cable. Just one media that goes out to public ears. Radio. AM radio specifically. The FCC will hire people to decide what realms of thought and cometary belong in which category of thought and cometary. And then force radio stations to give equal amount of time to contrary thought. (But not newspapers. not television. and not cable...however, the internet is under investigation.)

Instead of letting the free-market decide what people like, the FCC and the government will force radio to air what it likes.

If I don't agree with something I turn it off. If I'm not entertained or enlightened by media, I don't watch it. (As in, I didn't watch the Oscars . And I thought the after-Oscars hoo-plah was ridiculous.) I didn't demand that equal time be given to more serious broadcasting.

I like to decide these things for myself. Not have the FCC or the government decide for me.

What do you think?