Total Ridiculosity

Sorry I am such a blogging slacker. In my defense, I have been gone for four days. I did have internet access, but my dad was hovering over me like a helicopter most of the time. And, my parents don't read my blog. We had record heat this week with temps over 100. The majority of Seattleites do not have central air. "Luckily" my parents do. I held out until Sophie got a heat rash and her hair was wet with sweat at 10am in the morning. So I packed up Sophie, the two crazy pugs and myself and headed over. Chet stayed home since his work is 30 minutes the other direction and my parents live a good 45 minutes away from our house. He did spend one night, which was a nice reprieve. The house was nice and cool, though my dad hovered around the thermostat and turned it up when my mom wasn't looking. She would yell, he would say she doesn't understand the cost, blah, blah, blah. I threatened to tape the Pam and Bill show and put it on You Tube. That worked for about a minute. In the meantime, Simon my almost 12 year old pug had to be carried up and down the couple of steps from the deck to the yard, where Toby my 8 year old pug and Charlie, my parents obnoxious dog where playing all sorts of reindeer games. Never mind they are both male and both fixed. So Toby gets worked up and then attacks poor feeble Simon for no reason. Sophie wants to go outside all the time, and even when I say no, my dad opens the door and lets her out with no shoes on to step on the deck that sits in the 100 degree sun. Of course every little thing I do with Sophie is wrong. My mom keeps telling Sophie she needs to go potty on the potty. She's not even two. But all of mom's kids were potty trained by two. A. We had to be. By the time I was two I had a 14 month old sister and another well on the way. B. How well potty trained were we? I peed my pants on the floor in the first grade and once sleep walked into the kitchen, sat under the kitchen sink and peed. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, but in small doses. I like my space. I want to eat what I want to eat, watch what I want to watch, feed my child what I want to feed her, and not plop her on the bed in front of the tv. And not be put down all the time. I did marvel, into day three, how my sisters and I ended up with any self esteem at all. So I am home, in my still hot house. I pray the weather cools down to a nice 75 degrees soon. Sophie's second birthday is in a week and a half. I have a lot of prepping to do!

Three things

Okay, I have three things weighing heavy on my mind. I NEED a job. I HAVE to lose weight, and I WANT another baby. Of course of these three things, guess which one I am working on the most? I should be pounding the pavement looking for a job, and walking some of this weight off. I have been off almost a year, and have not lost any weight. The job thing is a whole other ball of wax. As stressed out as I was working, I am way more stressed out about having no money. And, I just knew I would be, but I quit anyway. This is not a "budgeting" situation. Chet's salary covers about half our expenses, and that is on a TIGHT budget. I was in total la la land to think he would do anything to improve his situation. That is never going to happen. It is up to me. I have applied for quite a few things, and gotten no where. There is alot more that I can do. I need to work on a good resume, and perhaps look for jobs in my field. It will be very hard to not be with Sophie all the time, but at least I would know I was providing for her, and not have to worry. These three things seem interchangable. Like, losing weight would help me on the two other fronts, having a job would help me lose weight and give me piece of mind about having a baby, and getting pregnant would motivate me in the two other areas. And, I am sick to death of answering questions about all three. Okay, the weight one is mostly my mother..

To party, or not to party?

So, Sophie turns 2 in a little over a month. Unfreakingbelievable. For the last several weeks, I have been torturing myself with the choice between having a party or not. By party, I mean inviting friends and family over for cake, etc. If I didn't throw a big party, we would still have a get together with my parents. Also, Chet, Sophie and I would go do something fun. Now, I said before she turned one that I would not have a big party, but of course I did. It was alot of fun, even though we got rained out the second weekend in August, and I had alot of people in my little house. You would think the trade off for being nine months pregnant in August would be no rain on your childs birthday, ever! I keep going back and forth with this decision, as is my annoying nature. After this year, I can ask Sophie. I have asked this year, but she keeps saying party, even though I don't think she grasps it. Although, last week when my sister was opening her birthday gift, Sophie was really eyeing it, so maybe she understands more than I think. I know if we don't have a party, she will still have a wonderful celebration. We have always had great birthdays in my family, and we rarely had parties. I had one when I turned 8, 14, and I think that's it. Some years I would have one or two friends over. And we always got to go out to the restaurant of our choice, and my mom would bake and decorate a cake of our choice. I am trying to convince my mom to bake Sophie a cake this year. I was not impressed with the one I got at the bakery last year. I really wish I could make decisions more easily, and not get all worked up like this. I sure hope Sophie doesn't inherit these traits. Luckily she has a 50/50 chance, since Chet doesn't have this problem. He votes for no party. Everytime I settle on a decision, I change my mind again. I thought blogging about it would help, but it hasn't. Blaaaahhh!

Dance Your Ass Off

Really?? Really??? Really?!! So I turned to channel 50 this morning while drying my hair, to see which cycle of America's Next Top Model would be marathoning today. Instead, they were repeating the first episode of Dance Your Ass Off. In case you haven't seen the commercials, or the late night shows making fun of the dancers, the show is a dance contest with overweight contestants. I watch the short intro for one of the contestants, and then the dance. Or, as much of the dance as I could bear to watch. I had to turn it off because I started crying. First off, the outfit the girl was wearing was unreal. Very tight spandex with ripped lace. Come on, at least put them in well fitting costumes. There is no reason why they can't outfit them in nice, flattering dance outfits. Then, the moves were frenetic and wild. It just seemed like it was a set up for them to be made fun of. And why the title? Remember the movie Hairspray? Where there was one dancer that happened to be heavey but could dance well? No, the powers that be have to create a show with a demeaning title, put the contestants in ridiculous costumes, and yet again, exploit the overweight. I'm sorry, this is just how I feel. Don't even get me started on the new show about a bachelor and a bunch of "plump" bachelorettes. I don't remember the title, but it is another"clever" one. Needless to say, the bachelor is bigger too. Because he would have to be, right??! Ugh!!! This shit just pisses me off! Soon we will have our own society. Fat people to the left!