Mr. Modesty

So I got a call at work today from Randy. It went like this....

Randy: So, we have to remember to put Super Z's name tag on him when he goes to school.

Serina: Oh no! We forgot. Did he get in trouble?

Randy: Uh, I don't know.

Serina: Well, did somebody say something to you about it?

Randy: Yeah, a lady came out and said that he needs to keep wearing it.

Serina: Was it a big deal?

Randy: What?

Serina: Was she upset about it?

Randy: How am I supposed to know?

Serina: Gracious Randy. Was she smiling or frowning?

Randy: That doesn't mean anything. All women smile at me. They can't help it.

Serina: *snort* Oh, really?

He really needs to work on his self esteem issues, I think.

My Feathers Get Ruffled

When we brought Super Z home from the hospital I didn't realize that I would never be the same. Before I had children it was pretty easy to hurt my feelings. I could be reduced to tears at the slightest hint of anger. This made confrontation a little uncomfortable for me. I mean, confrontation usually involves some sort of anger (or at the very least an angry tone). It wasn't that I didn't have my own angry indignation, it was just that the only reaction I could muster in such a situation was melting into a puddle of tears. I may be wrong, but I don't think that crying your eyes out really lets people know that you mean business. (Back off, buddy or I'll sling some tears on you!)
Well, Super Z changed that instantly. I think it was the day after we brought him home that Randy discovered that Z had an ingrown toenail. He was across the room from me when he announced its presence. He then began to torture my child in an attempt to remove it. Or at least that is what Z's cries transmitted to the inner core of the Mother that I had so recently become. All I can say about that day is that we are all very fortunate that Randy is still alive. Everything in my body told me to do whatever it was that I had to do to protect my baby.
It is instinct of the rawest sort. When someone hurts my children in anyway my hackles go up. Hackles don't make me the most reasonable person. I would confront anyone to protect those babies. And I guarantee you there would be no tears.
I realize that sometimes this instinct makes me overreact to things. Like when the daycare that I took Princess H to when she was first born brought her bottles out to me at the end of the day and they hadn't been washed out. I mean, what the crap? What else did they not do? Did they even refrigerate the frozen breast milk that I had brought them or were they too lazy to open the refrigerator door? The fallout from that incident is what led to Randy being a stay at home Dad. I don't know, even now two years later that pisses me off. So I am not sure if that was an overreaction.
But a definite overreaction is the way I feel when the babies get shots. I have to hold myself back from grabbing them off the table and running out of the room. I have to chant in my head, " They need this..This is good..It is ok..." Every single time that they have cried from a shot I have cried along with them. I have cried because they are hurting and I am standing there completely helpless to stop it. I have cried because they see me there and they know that I am not stopping it.
Well today Super Z got his booster shots. Like always I wanted to throttle the nurse when she came in with the four needles...YES FOUR. But a miracle occurred. For the first time I didn't cry. No, my protective instinct mixed with inappropriate guilt did not vanish on me. But it was almost as good. My baby didn't cry. My baby was the biggest boy that you have ever seen. He argued his case, " I don't need a shot. I don't want a shot. Don't give me a shot." and then he sucked it up and just impressed the hell out of his Mama.
I guess as they get older they will be able to handle more. Little things will hurt them less. They will learn to stand up for themselves. They will learn to take a few knocks and keep on going. There is one thing that I am fairly certain of though, that raw killer instinct that I got when I had Z will never go away. Having to hold myself back and let them be hurt is never going to be easy.

Gosh That Seems Evil Two Hours Later

Just a disclaimer. If I came across as evil down there I am sorry. I had a bad day. I love many things too. I will do that one for ya'll next week. But three for now, just to cancel out some of that negative energy that I was throwing around. Woah. 1) I love the way my children smell when they get out of the tub. 2) I love the feeling of cool sheets. 3) I love it when you can really talk to someone and they just get you 100%. There, I feel better now. :)

At the risk of appearing negative....10 Things That Get on my Nerves

I don't have much time tonight, but I shuddered at the thought of not doing a post at all. I mean what would you be doing right now if I would not have posted this? (Reading another blog probably...or working, depending on who you are.) But I have hours of work to go before I can rest, so my post will be short and sweet ( well, probably not sweet), but at least it is here. That is how much I care about you. So tonight I am doing a list of ten things that get on my nerves. Most of these things probably happened today at some point, because that is the kind of day that i have had. I hope that yours was much better than mine.

The Top Ten Things That Get On My Nerves

1. Nosy nosy people who have to tell everybody's business to everybody else. (Especially if that person sits right outside of your office and you have to hear the story eight gazillion times.)
2. People touching (hugging, patting, rubbing) me. Unless that person is a member of my immediate family.
3. When my husband cannot find items that are sitting three inches in front of his nose.
4. People breathing in my face. (This goes for all people, even those under three feet tall who came out of my womb.)
5. Close minded people who just automatically assume that you share their beliefs and spew down nonsense all over your space on a regular basis.
6. People touching my stuff. (If it is mine and is on my desk, on the printer, on the floor, in my chair, on the table or on the file cabinet I see no reason whatsoever that someone else would think that I need them to move it.)
7. People who pass you and then drive really really really slowly in the no passing zone.
8. When couples fight in my presence. That throws me off. I really have no idea how to react in that situation. I just feel embarrassed and awkward. It is almost like a flashback to childhood when my parents would fight, so not cool.
9. Passive-aggressive behavior. (GRRRRRRRRR!!!)
10. When you are in public with two or more (very attractive, hearing abled) children and someone comes up and only compliments one. Yeah, that is the worst. It should be a rule. If you aren't going to compliment all of the children in the immediate vicinity, don't bother coming over at all.

Fun Monday

So I am doing this fun Monday thing that I found over at Lisa's Chaos.
She provided the following question, which I will attempt to answer with wit and grace. I am not sure if I am supposed to do some linky magic to go with this or not, but since I can't quite figure all of that out yet, I won't.

I’d like to know more about you, what makes you tick. I’d like to know how you started blogging. Did you keep a diary under lock and key safely hidden as a child? Do you still? Do you share the same things on your blog that you would have, or do, in your diary? Why did you start blogging and why do you continue? May as well throw in any roadblocks you have run into while blogging. If you still have your old diaries we’d love to see them.

Let's see, I first started blogging way back in June of 2007. It was such a long time ago, but I will do my best to drudge up the old memories. I actually started blogging on Myspace. I did that mostly to entertain my sister. I would write little funny posts that would make her comment and say things like, "I know exactly what you mean...what a pain in the ass" or " God, you are a nut. Why do you want people to know this stuff?" Those aren't direct quotes, because I am too lazy to go look at Myspace, but you get the idea. And when I read her comments I would think, "Haha she was laughing when she wrote that." That made me happy and it made me feel close to her.
So shortly after that I decided that I didn't necessarily want all of the people on Myspace having access to the inner workings of my delicious mind. That is when I started this blog. You can go back and look at the archives. It was a dismal start. I managed like 2 posts a month. And then...a wonderful thing happened. See, I am obsessed with Angelina Jolie ( I know, I can't help it though, I really love her :)) and I would read Pittwatch everyday (at work) in my free time. One day Sherry, the author of that informative blog, said something about a blogathon over at her other blog Chaos Theory. Because I love Pittwatch so much, I decided to check it out. I was addicted instantly. Here was this woman with children the same as as my children, with interests very much like mine, and she was so freaking entertaining. I loved it. I stalked her throughout her whole blogathon. And then I decided that it was time to get off my butt ( my lazy butt) and start blogging for real.
See, I have always wanted to be a writer, but somehow life got in the way of that dream. For the past eight years or so I have been too busy learning how to be a wife and a mom to have time to read, much less write. Well even though it isn't the novel that I dreamed of yet, blogging does have me writing everyday. More important than that, it has me thinking of other things to write. Together those two things make me feel like I am doing something just for me. And that my friends is something that we Parents don't get to do very often. I love blogging for that reason and because I have found so many other cool people out there that just thrill me with their wit, sincerity, and passion. This is just a great great community and I am thrilled to be a part of it.
As far as diaries, I would occasionally keep them. I still have one that lasted me from the sixth grade to the tenth grade. Obviously it was as pathetic as this blog was when I first started it. But it is funny to read all of the things that I thought. let me tell you, I was a crazy kid. One page reads, " I HATE YOU, MOM! I WILL NEVER RESPECT YOU AGAIN. I HOPE YOU ARE HAPPY. YOU HAVE RUINED MY LIFE!!!" Ummm, I have no idea what that was about. I obviously didn't feel that it was important to document why my relationship with my Mother ended... just the fact that it did was enough.
The one thing that diary tells me is that I do not want my children to learn how to write. Apparently writing makes you lose your mind and hate your Mama.

Why Does This Happen?

I am (almost) ashamed to show you this picture. I mean you don't want to go out of your way to tell the whole world that you are a lazy useless person do you? Well, apparently I do. This is Randy (the saint) cleaning up Super Z's room RIGHT THIS MINUTE. Of course he is doing this while I do important things like get the kids ready for bed (write this post).

But I wanted to show you this for a reason. Reasons make it a little less shameful, right? I wanted to ask some very important questions. 1) Do all kids make messes like this on a regular basis or was I just extremely good in a past life and thus earned children with this special ability? 2) How exactly do you teach kids to clean up after themselves?

I have been back and forth with Super Z over this room all weekend. Occasionally, he will do as he is told and pick up a few things. Occasionally, he will get excited when I come in to help and pick up a few more things than usual. But for the most part, the few things could be counted on one hand. I guess my biggest issue is how do I teach him to pick up after himself all the time so that this doesn't happen? I tell him to put his toys away constantly. I applaud him for a job well done when he does pick them up. I have thrown away toys when they weren't picked up. All of these things will work at the moment that they are executed, but nothing seems to change his habit of pulling out everything possible and putting nothing back. Do you think I should just throw away 75% of his toys? Is that mean and horrible? I don't know, I just know I don't want to raise a slob. So guys, any ideas are welcome.

Ride the Pony

So for some reason, Saturday mornings get my husband very ...excited. A Saturday morning can't go by without Randy making an oh so smooth move. It usually goes something like this...I am asleep and drooling on my pillow when suddenly I am awakened by the Wandering Hands.
"Uh, what are you doing? " I mumble. I am sure it sounds more like"whsdybaooiajdfuidhnnmoo?".
"Looking around.," he says. Yes indeed, that is his sexy I am in the mood line. He uses it frequently, because he is smooth like that.
Most Saturdays I will yell something nice like , "I AM SLEEPING!!!"
But every now and then my gracious side will kick in and his Saturday morning fantasies will be fulfilled.
Well this morning I reluctantly agreed to be seduced. I am not sure why...probably the looking around line. I am a sucka for poetry.
Anyway, about four minutes after the party is getting heated up what should I hear? The slight squeak that is my bedroom door opening. Oh, yes. Our super powers kicked in at that point. There was cover grabbing and repositioning at unprecedented speeds. The Flash would have been impressed. Then I slowly looked up into the smiling face of my daughter. She was absolutely thrilled...delighted...
"Ride the PONY!, " She squealed with glee. "Ride the pony, Daddy."
Ummm, there are no words to express how overjoyed I was by this little pronouncement. No words that can describe the sheer pride I feel in being deemed the pony.

My Mamaw

Next Saturday is my Mamaw's 85th birthday. My Mamaw has been a constant inspiring presence in my life for as long as I have been alive. She is a strong, stubborn, intelligent woman. I hope that one day I understand as much about life and handle it with half as much grace as she does now. So in honor of Mamaw's birthday I will tell you a few things about her, a few reasons that I am so proud to be her granddaughter:

1) She graduated high school as Valedictorian of her class. In my humble opinion she is where all of the smart genes in my family originated. So I am very thankful for that. Hehe, well, for what little bit of it that came my way.

2) She is the best cook in the ENTIRE world. I swear to you...she can take a seed, plant it, water it, grow it into vegetable of choice, and then cook it in a way that is so simple and wonderful that it is almost Divine.

3)She is a cancer survivor! She fought the fight when she was in her late 70s. She didn't give up for even a minute and as far as I know she never once referred to herself as a victim. She has always been a survivor.

4) She raised 5 boys and 1 girl...and she lived to tell about it. One of those boys was my Dad, who I am fairly certain was no picnic, seeing as he is a hard headed stubborn mule...hmm, maybe that's where Super Z got it.

5) She was a working mother in rural Mississippi in the 50s, 60s, and 70s. If that ain't progressive I am not sure what is. She worked at a sewing plant until she retired in the eighties.

6) My Grandaddy died in 1983 and she still talks about him and things that they did together like it was yesterday.

7) She lost one of her sons in the 70s. Uncle Mike was in a car crash. I am sure that it must have almost killed her. But again, her strength got her through. I swear she is one of the strongest women ever.

8) She can quilt like nobody's business. If I had one week that I could spend doing whatever I wanted, I would go to Mamaw's and learn how to quilt.

9) She is stubborn and opinionated. She can be brutally honest. One of my favorite all time quotes was, "Serina you are pretty even though you are fat." What else can I say about that?

10) She has 15 grandchildren and 17 great grandchildren and she knows the name of every single one. She also knows that her forth oldest granddaughter loves butter beans and she makes it a point to make them whenever I am around.

11) She is one of my heroes.

Serenity

After the adventure that was last night, what with the poop in the carpet and all, today has been relatively calm. Relatively calm at my house means that Princess H is still crying and stripping off all of her clothes every three minutes. This is a kind of protest that she does when she wants us to let her out of bed. She is very vocal about her demands. She may grow up to be an activist for the No Sleep Campaign of America. Relatively calm also means that Super Z has been out of bed 3 times in the last hour to tell me that his butt hurts. It hurts because the mattress is too hard. Apparently the 39 pounds of his body weight pressing against a measly eight inches of cushioney softness is enough to cause bed sores..after five minutes. His angle has always been creativity (deceit).
But other than the screaming and the whining, things are very calm and quiet around here. Oh, except for the T.V. blasting, because apparently my husband has a disorder which makes it impossible to for him to understand the words that are coming out of the television unless the volume is turned ALL THE WAY UP. Oh and the new squealing sound that my washer has decided to make ( I am trying to make that issue dissapear by not acknowledging it )...yeah, except for that I am perfectly relaxed.

Super Z's First Day of School

He was a bit nervous, but as you can see he was very excited. The best part though is that when I put him to bed tonight he said, "Mom, can I go back to school tomorrow?"

"Why yes, son. That is a great idea."

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Good:
1 )Super Z did awesome at school! He came home with the stamp on his hand!! For those of you not in the know, the stamp on the hand means that he did not even get a single warning today! I am thrilled. Yay Z!
2) Randy is trying to get a part time job. He would work 4:30 a.m. to 7:30 a.m. That does not sound like something that I would like to do ( I am not sure if I like to breathe at that time, much less work), but he is super excited. He has been a SAHD now for a year and a half. I think that the idea of spending (any) time (at all) with adults other than me excites him. He said the interview went well, so we are keeping our fingers crossed.

Bad:
1) My new assistant sent out a package with the wrong cover letter today...to a very important person (who just happens to LOVE pointing out errors to my boss). I took several deep breaths, sucked it up, and emailed him so that he could get his complaining over with. We shall see how he takes it on the morrow. Oh yay.
2) I cheated on my diet tonight. I had rice and gravy. It was wonderful. It was sublime. I have muchos guilt.

Ugly:
1) We have known for a while that Princess H's life ambition is to be a stripper. She can go from fully clothed to butt naked in 2.4 seconds. After achieving nakedness she will grab herself and run around the house giggling like a mad woman. We are so proud. Well, tonight we discovered that she is a stripper of the nastiest sort. Apparently her future clients are into poop. Yes..poop. Princess H pooped in her diaper, stripped naked, used the poop as some sort of primitive body paint, and then ran into my room to show me her work of "art". She stood there naked and covered in poop shaking her butt to her own rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". Oh yes, twinkle indeed.
2) A square foot of my living room carpet was also decorated with the body paint (poop). Yes...a fetish stripper with a flair for interior decoration. Again, we are so proud. :)

Is Chopping Off Legs a Bad Word?

So we had student orientation today. Just a little warm up for tomorrow, the first day of school. We got Super Z up early and did all of the things that we would normally do on a school day.
I would call the home portion of the morning a success. Sure he cried a bit at first, but he did get dressed AND he ate breakfast, a miracle that only happens on the rarest of occasions.
As we drove to the school I reminded him of his teacher's name and we talked about the rules some. When we got there he told me that he didn't want to go to school. It only took about three minutes to convince him that he was a big boy and big boys have to go to school. He then insisted on taking in his backpack even though he wasn't staying.
"Big boys that have to go to school have to have backpacks, Mama."...Well, who can argue with that?
Mrs. Lee had all of the work stations set up when we arrived. She gave the kids a tour and then told them all that they could play at the station of their choice for a few minutes. Z headed straight for the play-doh. I took a seat over to the side, because I tend to be a bit shy when I first meet people. Sideline observation works for me.
Super Z had other ideas, " HEY MOM I AM MAKING A GUY!"
"That is awesome. Use your inside voice," I said smiling at the other parents who turned to look at the loud kid. I swear to you all of the other kids in the class were extremely quiet. Not saying anything quiet, I would guess that they were nervous, an emotion as foreign to Super Z as fear.
At that point he picks up the play-doh scissors and yells, " I am chopping of his legs!" He then screams, for the poor helpless doh-guy, I am assuming, " AHHHGHGGRRRHHHH!!!"
The other kids look on in disbelief. " This Zane kid is nuts.," their faces say.
I couldn't help but smile. I promise you, I tried. This kid just cracks me up.
" No Z, we don't chop off legs. Inside voice.," I said quietly.
He looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
" Is chopping off legs a bad word?," he asked in a dramatic stage whisper.
" No, it just isn't very nice.," I explained.
He thought about it a few seconds...meanwhile people have stopped staring, the other kids are going back to the games.
"Well I guess I'll just chop off people's legs at home then.," he declares, again eight decibels higher than any other voice in the room.
I really didn't know what to say. I was speechless. I was amused. I know that is bad, I shouldn't be so amused...but I tell you, the way his mind works delights me. I just wish he could delight me in the privacy of our own home. My mind was filled with celebratory music and an announcer yelling that I was PARENT OF THE YEAR. I had raised this boy who would be polite and only chop off legs at home. Bravo!
At that point Mrs. Lee met my gaze. She didn't shutter in disgust ( like at least one other parent did ) she laughed quietly and shook her head.
"100% boy, huh?," she asked.
I nodded and relaxed, "Oh yeah."

Marriage Anyone?

Question: What are the three most important things needed to make a marriage work?

I had to think about this for a while, because I have to admit that personally I have spent more time around marriages that didn't work than around those that did. My Mom and Dad have each been divorced twice. My Mom's marriages have both died as the result of unresolved anger. So I would say that that is definitely a bad idea. I mean unless you are just really into being pissed off and miserable all the time... and if that is the case, I say go for it. I mean why forgive? Being perpetually angry and miserable probably burns a lot of calories... my Mom has always been really thin...
My Dad's second marriage ended because he was an idiot ( and an alcoholic ) who married a fellow idiot ( and alcoholic ) that he barely knew. So in big flashing lights I would have to say
* Don't be an idiot (or an alcoholic)* Those two things are definitely not good for a marriage. That divorce was actually a very good thing to us kids. We liked sober thinking Dad much better than drunk, stupid, married Dad. We are crazy like that.
Some would think that this legacy of divorce is a bad omen for me. I think not. Surely I must have learned something from all the failure, right? I really hope I did. No, I know I did. Randy and I have got it going on... in many many ways, but I have to pick three. I don't think I am an expert after only eight years at what is needed to make marriage at large work, but I can tell you the things that work for us.

The top three things that make my marriage work:

1. We are best friends. I mean really the man can make me laugh until tea comes out of my nose. He listens to me bitch (and commiserates!). He likes to hear me talk. He has even been known to let me put eyeliner on him...once, under duress...when we were really bored...and young...and drunk. But yeah, he is my favoritest, as Super Z would say.
2. We know how to keep it fresh. Now this blog is G rated, or PG-13 at worst, so I am not going to go into the bow-chica-wow-wow details with you ( I know, you were on the edge of your seat.), but we don't ever get tired of each other. We are not afraid to try new things. And let me tell you what, our grand finish conversations tend to be brutally honest and quite hilarious. Sometimes I can't believe the things coming out of our mouths. We should be critics... " Well on the plus side the lighting in the room was wonderful tonight..."
3. Nobody wears the pants in this house. No, we don't walk around naked from the waist down...We are equal, team personified. There is no boss. ( There is bossy, but I am convinced that is a genetic flaw passed down through both lines of my family.) We are both more than willing to share our view of how the world should revolve and we are both willing to listen. Compromise is golden.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

One of my clearest memories from childhood (when my parents were still the happiest couple in town ) is the Sunday morning tradition. I don't know why or how but for some reason as a child I was a very early riser. On Sunday mornings, my sister and I would inevitably wake up before out parents. (before the sun was all the way up usually) Our mission was always the same, to stealthily make our way into our parents' room and across the wide expanse of floor without waking them. If they weren't jumped on while they were still asleep and violently rousted, we had failed. For some reason on Sundays this was okay. There were no scowls or scoldings. There were kisses and laughter. Much tickling and bulldozing would ensue. I recently reminded my Daddy of his bulldozing days and he seemed to think that he could still do it. I am not so sure, I have seen him on the floor with the kids and although I am impressed by the effort, the ruthless bulldozer of the days of yore is nowhere in sight. I am afraid that over the years he may have acquired a bit of rust damage. After we would play for what seemed like forever, we would all go back to sleep. Piled in their bed together. That was the only time that they let us sleep with them and I remember loving every second of it.
I am happy to tell you that the Sunday morning tradition has not ended with my parents marriage. My bedroom suit is the same bedroom suit that my parents had back then, and apparently the Sunday morning tradition is some kind of magic spell that is attached to the furniture.
It never fails, on Sunday mornings I am jerked awake by the feeling of Super Z's knee in my stomach. And although on any other day that would be enough for me to turn into evil grouchy Serina, on Sundays that doesn't happen. On Sundays, I pull him into position and blow on his belly as hard as I can, eliciting ear splitting laughter that can raise the dead, aka Randy, aka Bulldozer 2. Shortly after the bulldozer is kicking into gear Princess H will let us know via our complicated electronic monitoring system that the prisoner of the crib is also ready to be dozed, tickled, and otherwise tortured into eliciting a million giggles. After about an hour of this everyone will pass out...mostly on top of me. And I will lay there uncomfortable and sweating and as happy as I have ever been.

A Contest!!!

My blog friend K8, over at Three Wild Monkeys is having a great contest. She is giving away a ton of scrapbooking stuff. If you are a scrapbooker or know one ( My Dear Old Mama ) then you should go check it out. You can just click on the link below. Good luck!

Favorite TV Episodes

This week, TWQ (The Weekend Question) asks about the best episodes of a tv series you've seen. Can you tell what are your favorite episodes of any tv series? List as many as you like. Say why they are the best.

I ran into the question at another blog that I enjoy reading. He challenged his readers to answer the question too, so I am going to tell you my favorite episodes from Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I am only slightly embarrassed to tell you that Buffy is one of my all time favorite shows. I never said that I wasn't a big dork. And yes I was an adult when I started watching it. :)
I especially loved the relationship between Buffy and Spike. That will probably be obvious from my choices.

My answers are:

"Something Blue" from Season Four. This is the episode where one of Willow's spells inadvertently makes Buffy and Spike think that they are in love. This one was hilarious. They were so far from in love at this point, but it was great foreshadowing.

"Fool For Love" from Season 5. A lot of history on Spike. I love Spike.

"Crush" Season 5. Spike offers to kill Drusilla to prove his love for Buffy. Loving the love...even though Buffy doesn't return his feelings. And I hate Drusilla, so offering to kill her was wonderful.

"The Body" from Season 5. Buffy's Mom died. It was really awful. But the stillness of the episode really made you feel the powerful loss. It was very sad, but a very well made episode.

"The Gift" Season 5 Finale. Buffy dies to save her sister. This one to me showed once and for all that Spike had truly changed his ways. There is no more evil Spike after this, just crazy in love with Buffy Spike.

"Once More, With Feeling" Season 6. The musical episode. It might sound dopey, but this was my favorite episode of all.

"Smashed" Season 6. Buffy and Spike bring down the house. This episode was just hot. Truly.

"Gone" Season 6. Invisible Buffy takes advantage of the situation.

"Beneath You" Season 6. Buffy Finds out that Spike got his soul back.

"Touched" Season 7. Spike comforts Buffy. There was a lot of sex between these two in Season 6, but this is really the first episode where there is intimacy from both sides. So tragic.

"Chosen" Season 7. Series Finale. Spike dies to save Buffy, the Scoobies, and the other slayers. I know that many people think that the Buffy/Angel romance was better, but really Spike died to save her, tragic romantic love at its finest.

Now its your turn....

My Reasons

They are the first things that I think about in any situation. They are the motivation behind all of my hard work. They probably get on my nerves more than anyone else in the world. They are a great source of my pride. They are the inspiration behind my stories. They are the funniest people that I have ever met. They are constantly challenging me and teaching me. They make me want to be more. They are my reasons. They are my babies.

10 Things That Made Me Happy Today

I am tired. Work is kicking my ass. I try not to talk about it too much here because, uh...boring. So in honor of it being Friday, the day of optimism, I give you the bright side, the glass if half full, the sunlight, the top ten things that made me happy today.

10) We got more of the good hazelnut coffee at work!
9) My new assistant seems to GET IT. She really does.
8) We ordered P'zones for dinner! No cooking, no mess.
7) Princess H was dressed in a perfectly matched outfit that her Dad put together!
6) I had enough spending money set aside to go ahead and order all of the prints that I wanted of our family pictures.
5) I got the greatest idea for a short story on the way home.
4) Super Z, looking every inch the surfer dude, with no shirt and a wooden bead necklace greeted me at the car as soon as I drove up.
3) I got at least 18 goodnight kisses from Z & H.
2) Super Z remembers the school rules that I told him last night!
1) I get to spend the entirety of the next 2 days doing nothing but lazing with my family. Amen.

My Son, the Tornado

We went to parent orientation tonight for Super Z's school. I got pretty good vibes about everything. His teacher is Mrs. Lee. She is probably about 50. She looks like she has handled quite a lot of kids in her time, but I couldn't help but wonder, " Can she handle Super Prime at full speed?"
After her little speech about rules ( good gracious, is she delusional?) and such, she took a moment to talk with each parent. I felt that it was my civic duty to warn her about Super Z.
"My son talks a lot.," I stated simply.
She smiled ( ahh, so innocent ) and nodded.
I said it again, " I mean he really talks a lot."
Again I got the nod.
I felt the need to make her understand, " I mean he never stops talking...ever. I am not sure if he can. Every thought comes out of his mouth. Every one. He may fool you the first day, because he may be shy. But once he loosens up...please let me know if he is disturbing class. I will do everything that I can to get him to be quiet for you."
By this time Mrs. Lee either understood the seriousness of my son's talking problem or she decided that I was a lunatic. She reassured me that she would let me know if there was a problem ( Dear Lord, Please don't let there be a problem.)
As I walked away I had the feeling that I should have told her more, prepared her a bit more for the wild monkey boy that is Super Z. I mean it isn't just the talking, the child should have come with instructions and warnings I think. He is pure energy unbound. But I guess I will trust that he will be nothing new to her. Maybe she will know the magic tricks to use to get him to sit and listen and not touch everything in the room. Maybe she will know the words to say that will make him do what he is told, instead of debating about it for two hours. And as the door closed behind me, I realized that there is nothing I could tell her to prepare her anyway. You can't explain what a tornado is like to someone who has never experienced one. You can try. But they will never truly understand the fright, confusion, and mind numbing wind unless they feel it for themselves. Tuesday Mrs. Lee will meet the tornado.

My Kids in the Tub

Overheard from the bathtub as I stand outside the door with a towel:

Super Z - Listen to me fart, Sister.

Princess H - No. Mommy. Gimme out. Gimme out. Gimme out.

Super Z - hahahahahahaha! Too late! I am Super Prime!

Princess H - Mommy.

Super Z - Little baby, she isn't coming back. hahahaha!

Super Z - Hey Mom! We are okay, don't come in! hahahahahahaha!

Poor Princess H, she has fifteen years of hell to look forward to with ole Super Prime.

My Lovely Family

We got the proofs back from our family pictures. I think they turned out really well. It is going to be a process deciding which ones to order; they are all so good. I am sure that I will end up spending to much money. I admit it, pictures of my kids are a weakness of mine.

These are just a few of the cute ones. You will have to excuse the watermark for now. I will get them without the watermark soon, but I was all in a tizzy to share these with you, so oh well. See what I mean about the pretty babies?

The Dreams I Dream

I have always had vivid dreams.
When I was a little girl I used to have the same dream almost every night. I would dream that I was walking down a country road. There was always a white fence lining both sides of the road. I would be strolling along minding my own business, when suddenly I would notice a 10 foot tall tomato shaped pin cushion rolling down the road after me. (Yes, a tomato shaped pin cushion.) With the fence on both sides of me there was only one thing to do...run. I would run down this forever curving road panting and screaming as this giant beast of a pin cushion silently lumbered along behind me. I would wake up in a panic. I don't think I could've been more frightened if I was dreaming that I was being bitten by rats. (I've had that one too.)
I swear to you sometimes the things that my mind comes up with when I am asleep could be flashes from movies, movies that range from very steamy kinky to very freaky scary. (I dream in pictures...I remember my psych professor in college saying that some people dream in pictures and others in words. I am a picture girl.)
I am also blessed with the unique ability to remember most of those dreams. At least once a week I get to regale Randy with a tale of me pouring boiling hot tea over his body because he was doing very bad things with random girl 3.0. Actually, I have only had that one once, normally my dreams are pretty enjoyable, but believe me he gets to hear about all kinds of crazy stuff.
Other times when Randy is extra lucky, he gets to experience me being pissed at him over something that happened far far away in SerinaDreamLand. For an example of one of these dreams, please see the tea incident above. I try not to do this, as I know it is borderline crazy to be upset with someone else over something that happened in your own head, but fortunately he already knew I was crazy when he signed up for this gig. I say he just has to weigh the pros and cons. Sure..sometimes I wake up mad at him for no reason at all, but sometimes he wakes up and gets to hear a terrific X-rated story. Sometimes the dreams are so freaky that he'll ask me to tell him again that night, his own in-house version of Penthouse. If only I could come of with those things while I was awake... I could make a great living writing erotic literature. I am sure my Mamaw would be very proud of that.

Morning Happiness

Every now and then I wake up, stretch and notice that the light is slanting across the room in just the right way. Everything looks perfect , soft , and beautiful. The old dresser that used to belong to my parents looks as majestic as it did when I was a child. The brass knobs seem to hint of treasures within. The air is always just the right temperature on those mornings, with the breeze from the fan softly laying over my skin. The space under the covers next to Randy's skin is smooth and cool and perfect. On these rare mornings I become overwhelmed with a sense of rightness and peace. I know for just a moment that everything is right with the world. I know that there is still a Santa in the North Pole and Magic Fairies under the mushrooms of a cool dark forest. I can hear the kids breathing softly on the monitor. I can feel my husband's hand on my hip. I know that all of the reasons for my stress and worries are right there with me and worth every moment of chaos. I love those mornings.

You Can't Stop A Train

My husband is ruled in every way by a complete lack of patience. Once he decides that he wants to do something he is all over it. I mean literally 20 seconds after he gets the idea he is chewing at the bit to put it into action. There is no conversation, no sharing of ideas, no time to think. You might as well try to stop a train as slow down Randy with a bee in his bonnet. He informs me of the idea, gives me three point seven seconds to consider the idea, then becomes frustrated if I don't immediately accept the idea. He then accuses me of being afraid of change.

Let me tell you how not afraid of change I am:

I made the decision to leave a not so stable job, my family, and the house that I loved and move two hours away to a better paying job and no house in two days. Two days. And yes, Mr. Impatience was there encouraging me, but that is beside the point. I made that rather important decision rather quickly. I did not balk at change. It retrospect I call that decision impulsive, fortunately I think I made the right decision.

When he called me at work when Princess H was 8 weeks old and suggested that it might be we might be better off financially (and I would certainly be better off emotionally) if he stayed home with the kids for a while, I took two whole days to think about it and go over the numbers. Two whole days to decide that we would change the whole way our family operates. Again it was a good decision, but definitely a testament to the fact that I am not afraid of change.

So last night he came up with the idea of painting out kitchen table and chairs. I was not totally opposed to the idea, I had actually spent a little time today mulling over the colors. But when I walked in the door Randy was ready to go buy primer and paint. I admit it, I balked, simply saying, "Let's think about the options, Randy. We don't have to do anything today."

I was then accused of being afraid of change, looked at like I was ruining his life, and made to know in several ways that my stance was unacceptable.

So now three hours later, this is how worried he is about my fears....

Weekend O Fun

Here is a little photo journalism from our weekend. We took our tri-weekly trip to my hometown. We stayed one night with my Dad and one night with my Mom, oh the joy of divorce. Friday was my Dad's birthday, so we had a family dinner. The first picture is Papa Joe with all four of his grand kids. You will notice Princess H hamming up for the camera and attempting to steal the show. The other two pics are of the kids sleeping in the car on the way home. I swear that road trips are the only way to get my children to nap at the same time. That is when Randy and I have our best conversations. Today's topic : finding the right religion. More on that another day.

The Talking Gene

We spent last night at my Dad's house and this morning Randy and Super Z have ventured out into the heat with Papa Joe. My Dad is putting a pool in his backyard and apparently there are a lot of things to be done before we can swim in it. I am not interested in those things, I only care about the swimming part. So while they are off gallivanting, I am enjoying his new laptop and hanging out with Princess H.
If I had to sum up my kids in one word, that word would be talkative. This little girl has not stopped talking for the past two hours. She will be two in October, so her vocabulary isn't that extensive, but she uses the words at her disposal to the best of her ability.
"Give me a bite.," in Princess H speak becomes, " Gimmee a bite. Gimmee a bite.Gimmee a bite.Gimmee a bite.Gimmee a bite.Gimmee a bite." The thing has not been said if she hasn't said it five times as fast as she can. It is really funny.
She actually has stopped talking a few times, that was an exaggeration. But it seems like overnight she has so much to say. It is lovely to see. If she tends to overdo it a bit, it is probably just the effect of growing up with Super Z.
Super Z probably talks more than anyone I have ever met...really. I am actually a bit worried about how he will handle school, because if I try to get him to be quiet for even two minutes he will literally start bawling and saying, "Mom, I have to talk."
I believe that it may be painful for him to hold words in his head. Basically since he was ten months old he has been blessing us with a continuous stream of consciousness evaluation of his life. A snippet would be something like this, " Mom, talk to me. Do you like motorcycles? I like motorcycles. Little Zane (his imaginary friend) has a motorcycle. Did you know that Papa had an orange tractor? Can I have a banana for supper? When is supper? Are we going to Mimi's? I love to ride my bike. I can ride my bike without training wheels. Hey Mom, why do you go to work? To make money? Can I get a transformer? Dad took my brother and me to see Transformers."
It never stops. Never. He even talks to himself in his sleep. If others are talking he will either keep going or interject random sentences as he can.
Do you think this is odd? He will be five in December. I used to think that he would outgrow this. No sign of that is in sight. Super Z's talking is the reason that Randy thinks he deserves a medal for staying home with my kids.
And now you can add in the Princess H speak to the equation, so maybe he does deserve a medal... or at least a big hug for marrying me, the talker, who scarred his children with this affliction.

Why Do You Think This Is?

When I get on the computer Randy sighs a lot and walks by me so that I can hear him sighing. Does that seem odd to you? I mean surely he isn't annoyed that I am on the computer. I mean he just played Internet checkers for two hours at my Dad's house while other people were visiting. Me, alone, in the dark, in the living room, while everyone is sleeping...that is not sigh worthy. He must be getting asthma or something.

Feelin Hot Hot Hot

I doubt that there is weather anywhere in the world that I would like less that the weather here in Mississippi. I guess it is possible, but just for the sake of this post, I will say no. Today was a record as far as heat goes. 104, with 112 heat index. And no, that is not my creativity at work that is cold (hot) hard (melted) truth.
In Mississippi when it gets hot, it gets really really hot and stays that way for way too long. The humidity is so thick that is feels like a second layer of clothing. Sometimes you will literally think to yourself, " Why in the hell did I put on long underwear?...Oh I didn't..humidity, right." If you have never experienced humidity in the south, I don't think this would make sense to you. When it rains, it rains for weeks and weeks and doesn't stop. When it doesn't rain, it doesn't rain for weeks and weeks and people worry that it will never rain again. And when it storms, it is in the form of hurricanes and tornadoes. It is really just lovely.
Hurricane Katrina hit while I was 8 months pregnant with Princess H. And even way up here in the middle of Mississippi we lost power for two weeks. It was like roasting in an oven. It was miserable with no relief in sight. I am glad it wasn't this hot then...good Lord, I would have died.
The only weather that Mississippi doesn't overdo is winter. We never get snow. I happen to like snow, probably because I have never had to deal with it on a regular basis. I wish it would just snow here once a year. That would be enough to make me happy. But no, I guess if it did snow here it would have to snow for weeks and weeks without stopping. If it didn't, it just wouldn't be Mississippi weather.

I Miss Sleep

I really do. Before I had kids I could sleep forever on the weekends. Seriously, I could go to bed at midnight and sleep until one o'clock the next day. Sometimes I would sleep so long that I would get that headache that you get when your body is screaming, " THIS IS TOO MUCH SLEEP!" But I wouldn't care, I'd do it again the next night. That is the kind of reckless freespirited life that I led. Bring on the sleep, baby!
I don't have that life anymore. I go to sleep a long time after the kids do. This is a necessity. It is the only way that I can get important things like blogging, sex, reading, and peeing in private done. And then I get up before they do so that I can go to work. And even on the weekend I get up when they do, because yes I do like to see them and no, I don't want them to drown themselves in the toilet or pull every single item out of the refrigerator.
So sadly the days of wild and wicked sleep have passed and I miss those days very much. Especially at times like now, when I have to be at the office again in only eight short hours. Why in the hell am I not in bed?

My Musical Baby and His Ridiculous Dad

As I have said at least twice now, Randy is a great Dad. He loves the kids. He takes care of them while I am at work. He knows exactly which thing will make them stop crying in which situation. He gives them plenty of hugs and attention. Yet he is also good at setting limits and making them stick. He is proud to be a stay at home dad. I would have to say that all around he is awesome. But let me tell you, sometimes I think he is a ridiculous man.

Tonight was one of those times. Super Z loves to play with my flute. He is actually getting to the point where he can make sounds with it. I must say that I am very impressed. But he has always loved music. He has been playing guitars and banging on drums since he turned 1. So tonight we were laying on the bed and he was playing the flute. After a bit he said, " When I get to high school I am going to march." ( He meant he was going to be in the marching band.)

"Oh yeah? What instrument are you going to play? The drums? The trumpet?," I asked.

"The flute.," He answered simply.

I answered, "Well, if you want to play the flute you can. I will let you use mine."

And then Ridiculous steps in, " You need to play the trumpet. You can't play the flute."

Okay, let me lay out the reasons that I thought that was ridiculous.

1) Super Z is four, marching band is many years away. 2) If Super Z wants to play the flute, he will. 3) What are actually the chances that he is going to be a flutist in the marching band? Super Z is a very dirty athletic boy, he is just as likely to be playing ball as playing in the band.4) What difference does it make either way?

I understand that mostly girls play the flute, but boys do too. I am sure that those boys get ragged for it, but I hope that my son will always be who he is without worrying about what other people think. The point is, I don't care what he does or what he plays as long as he is a happy kid.

I know that Randy would not argue with me about this for very long (if the time came that we ever actually had to argue about whether Super Z could play the flute or not). He would realize that I am right. And it wasn't like he was upset or vehement about it or anything. The initial reaction just kills me though. Ridiculous.

All About Serina

I have decided to devote an entire entry to myself. Who knows, there might be someone out there in the world who is just dying to know more about me. This person wouldn't be anyone I know obviously, for I assure you most people who know me know way to much about me already, as I love to talk. So here is a list of 100 things about me. I saw this on a few of the other blogs that I love and I thought that it would be a fun thing to do. You don't have to read it if you don't want, a hundred things is quite a bit.

1. I am six feet tall.
2. I am married to a man who is 5'4".
3. Sometimes people stare at us or ask us about our height difference when we go out in public.
4. This used to bother me a lot, but the older I get the less I care what other people think.
5. I don't know if this trend can continue, because I don't know if it is possible for me to care less about what the rude staring person on the street thinks than I do now.
6.I outgrew both of my parents when I was 11.
7. It is possible that I may be half giant like Hagrid in the Harry Potter books.
8. I love to read.
9. I will read shampoo bottles if I can't get my hands on anything else.
10. My parents got divorced when I was twelve.
11. I dated my husband for six months and nine days when we were 15.
12. He lived in the same neighborhood as me when we were very young.
13. We went to the same elementary school.
14. I "met him again" in Fred's when I was 21.
15. That time it was love at "first" sight.
16. I was in Fred's because my Mom told me that rats were biting people at Wal-Mart.
17. I don't know if that was true or not.
18. He was in Fred's because of a flat tire.
19. I believe that God put us both there.
20. I majored in journalism in college.
21. I haven't written for a newspaper since I graduated.
22. It took me three years of trying to get pregnant with my son.
23. It took an emergency c-section to get him out.
24. I have curly hair, but my son's is much curlier.
25. Everyone says that my kids look like their Daddy.
26. I think this is because I am fat, and people don't think that I am cute enough for them to look like me.
27. I think I am cute even though I am fat.
28. I am trying not to be fat anymore.
29. I have had a weight problem as long as I can remember.
30. I was actually pretty skinny when I was 15, but I couldn't tell.
31. That is why I still consider that a weight problem. I was unable to see reality through my own bad self image.
32. I actually have really good self esteem now.
33. I am the queen of complimenting myself on a job well done.
34. I am not sure if that is a good thing or not.
35. My daughter was unplanned.
36. When I found out I was pregnant with her I cried and yelled, "F**K!" about 600 times.
37. I feel really guilty about that now.
38. When I was in the seventh grade my best friend/cousin Becky taught me the alphabet in sign language.
39. I would walk around and spell out in sign letters every thought that went through my head for the next year.
40. I was a really big dork in the 7th grade.
41. My Mom could not find pants long enough for me at that time.
42. I looked like an idiot waiting for a flood.
43. the next year I discovered men's jeans.
44. I was much cooler by the ninth grade.
45. My friends and I dressed in black all the time.
46. We also painted the pinky nail on our left hands black.
47. We thought we were very cool.
48. I used to tell my little sister what to make her Barbie's say when we played Barbies.
49. I love my niece like my own child.
50. She was my first baby.
51. She was born when my sister was only 16.
52. I think my sister is one of the strongest people ever.
53. She finished school and became a nurse, all while raising a baby.
54. I come from a very dramatic family.
55. My Dad is an alcoholic.
56. My cousin Becky and I used to make up characters and talk out stories all the time (consider that Barbie's without Barbies)
57. That led us into writing stories.
58. I have wanted to be a writer since the 8th grade.
59. I haven't written anything for the past 5 years.
60. I have decided to pick it back up.
61. I don't think it is ever too late to try to live your dream.
62. I think that Randy is a better parent than I am.
63. My Mom is one of the strongest women ever.
64. She is the reason that I am a feminist.
65. I am more liberal than every member of my family.
66. I have had the same best friend my entire life. My cousin.
67. My sister is my best friend too now.
68. That hasn't always been the case.
69. She once rolled over a car hood while pregnant to kick my ass.
70. We didn't actually fight.
71. My Dad literally jumped a fence and stopped us.
72. She did make my lip bleed.
73. I used to be very sensitive.
74. i find that becoming a mother has given me thicker skin.
75. My children are the best thing ever.
76. My son has a tendency to act like a lunatic in public.
77. People tend to look at us like, "What is wrong with that child?"
78. I tend to give those people go to hell looks.
79. Stupid people irritate the hell out of me.
80. Judgemental people irritate the hell out of me.
81. Nosy people irritate the hell out of me.
82. Ha-ha..Apparently a lot of things irritate the hell out of me.
83. I believe that you can tell who your best friends are by the way you feel when you are together.
84. If it always feels like you just saw them the other day, no matter how long it has been, they are your best friend.
85. I have a huge extended family.
86. That huge family comes with tons of drama.
87. I have been known to exaggerate.
88. My sister calls it lying.
89. I call it creativity.
90. My son has the same problem.
91. I have slept with three men.
92. I got married at 22.
93. Sometimes I wonder if that was too young.
94. I wouldn't change it for anything.
95. I think Randy and I have the best marriage in the world.
96. I am never wrong.
97. He let's me live with that belief for the most part.
98. I worry a lot. Irrationally at times.
99. I can do the pencil sharpener and the sprinkler (dances).
100. I am really enjoying this new blogging thing.

Creative Engineering

Randy's family is known for producing creative engineers. Let me explain. These people can find the most inventive ways to keep cars, toys, and pretty much anything operational long after said thing should have been laid to rest. My Father-in-law is unbelievably talented, he has been known to drive around in a van with air conditioning in the form of an actual window unit boarded into his rear door. Scary, no? The sad part is that the man could afford a new car. He just doesn't want one. It is a source of pride for him that he can make do with even the most crappy item. I swear, this is true.
My husband too has the creative engineering gene. Oh, yes he does. Randy kept a Honda CRV with 300,000 miles on it running for 4 years! I am pretty sure that the car was held together with gum and duct tape. But I am proud to say that when he finally sold it ( to another creative engineering family member of course) it was able to roll out of our driveway under its own steam.
Well, I tell you all of this so that you will understand how proud I was to prove that I truly belong to this family today. That is right, I earned my own badge in creative engineering.
On my way home from work, an eighteen wheeler in front of me had a blowout. The husk of the tire came flying out from under the truck about 50 feet in front of me. I couldn't get over into the other lane, there was no time; all I could do was slow down and drive over the husk. I was actually pretty calm, I was just praying, "Dear Lord, please don't let me get a flat tire on the interstate." Well two seconds later I heard a sound. Something was dragging on the ground. I groaned and pulled over. Turns out that the piece of my car under my door had come loose and was dragging the ground. I tried to put it back on, but couldn't. I tried to pull it all the way off..again failure. And then a flash of brilliance hit me like a rock. I took off my work badge, which I wear around my neck, and wrapped it around the loose piece. I then got in the car and pulled the piece into place the best that I could, holding it tight with the badge cord. I was then able to shut the door and drive home, holding the badge cord tight the whole way in order to keep the piece in place. How is that for creative engineering? I told Randy that if he ever had doubts that I was the one for him, this should put those doubts to rest. I have truly become a member of his family, let's just pray that I never feel the need to drive around with a window unit in my car for AC. Please Dear God, don't let that happen.

Spaghetti Night

I thought I would do a little photo journalism on the weekly Monday night spaghetti adventure. To answer your questions: 1) Yes, Super Z can eat with a fork. Spaghetti tends to make him...creative. 2)No, we don't all eat in the nude. 3) Yes, that is a pretty big bathtub. :)

The Screaming Contest

So there is a lovely new development in our house, I will call it the screaming contest. If Child A begins to cry then Child B will also begin to cry or at least to simulate crying. At this point, Child A will then cry louder in an effort to drown out Child B. Child B will then cease simulated crying and begin to scream, yell, moan at the top of his or her lungs. Child A ( who we will point out, actually started crying for a reason unrelated to the screaming contest) will then collapse into an inconsolable heap, as they are too distraught and distracted by previous events to actually give Child B a run for their money in that particular screaming contest; therefore, Child B claims victory every time. Please note that the roles are interchangeable. Princess H and Super Z can both successfully fill the role of Child A or B.
For some reason, I am amazed and amused by the screaming contest each and every time it happens. How can they know how to torture each other at such a young age? Is this trait naturally ingrained in siblings from birth? And how in the world has someone not developed a way to harness the sound waves of children and convert them to reusable energy? Seriously, I would never have to pay for electricity again. One screaming contest a week should be enough to keep the lights and AC going at my house. I guess the other 6 or seven screaming contest every week would produce energy for other homes...homes without children.

A Problem With The Truth

We bought groceries today and one of things that I always get the kids on grocery day is drinkable yogurts. So when we get home Super Z says, "Mom, Can I have a yogurt, please?"
And I said yes, because I like him. I also warned him that he could only have one today. He loves them and would drink all ten, one right after the other, if I allowed it. So he saunters off, nodding in agreement. 2.5 seconds later he is back, " Mom, I need another yogurt."
"No, Z. I said only one today." He whines a bit then wanders off. A few minutes later I notice that the door to his room is closed. I check the fridge, because I know the signs of sneakiness, and sure enough a second yogurt has gone missing. I go back to his room to tell him that this one is okay, but if he doesn't listen to me he will run out of snacks before next weekend. Honestly, that was my plan. There was no evil punishment in store for him, after all he is 4.
Well, he must have thought otherwise, because before I could get half way down the hall, he comes running out of the door yelling, " I didn't have another yogurt, I didn't!"
I simply raised an eyebrow ( my secret move) and told him to bring me all of the empty yogurts out of his room and then I went back to check the fish. 15 seconds later, out of the corner of my eye, I see him sneaking a yogurt carton into the trash. So here he is, caught red handed.
"Z, how many yogurts did you have?"
"One, Mom! Only one!"
The deceit went on for 15 minutes. The whole time I am trying to explain to him that it is worse to lie than to sneak the yogurt. He was having none of it. Deny was his middle name. Finally, finally, after much coercion he admitted the truth. I tried to talk to him about what he'd done wrong. I tried to explain that it is wrong to not tell the truth. I said things like, "Z, when Mom asks you something, you have to tell her the truth. Okay?"
Pretty much the only response that I was able to get was, " I am sorry I took it, Mom. I wanted it really bad."
How do I get him to understand that the main problem was the lie? Any advice, sage readers?

Evil In My Livingroom

This is what is going on in my livingroom RIGHT NOW! This is Randy and Princess H enjoying a nice bowl of fresh churned Bruster's Oreo ice cream. It is delicious. It is full of sugar and goodness. I have had it before, so I know these things. I cannot have it now. And he knows this. And yet, you see the complete lack of guilt here, right? sigh... I will have a sugar free Popsicle and try to stop myself from seething in jealousy. He is not the one trying to lose weight..yet, but if he keeps this up...

My Sister Will be here in Less Than An Hour!!

Yay! This is my sister, Alisha and her daughter Brit. They are on their way! They will be here soon, so I really don't have time to write. I was just feeling all warm and fuzzy and thought I would share this pretty picture. They are bringing the boys too of course. But they aren't in the picture, so....

The first 40 Pounds is Gone

http://www.naturalphysiques.com/howmanypounds/ is a really cool sight that takes the amount of weight that you have lost or that you still have to lose and it breaks it down to show you how much it really is. I decided to go with what I have lost already, since the other number is so much higher. I have lost 40 pounds and I have exactly one hundred and thirty pounds left to lose. Those numbers used to make me really sad and hopeless. " Man, that will take forever. I can't do it." But in May I got off of the hopeless train. I am doing everything I can and I am not going to stop. This is not a diet it is a life change. This is Serina being brave and bold and saving her own life...finally. So, here it is, I have lost a four year old boy, who happens to be four pounds bigger than my son.

40 pounds is the average weight of a 4-year old boy.

How Much Fuel Is That?
To lose that amount of fat would mean to burn 140,000 calories or 585,760 KiloJoules! That is the equivalent of 4.53 gallons of gasoline. Humans, however, are far more efficient than cars, getting about 912 "miles to the gallon". If you could dump this many calories into the tank of a Honda Civic, you would be able to drive it about 154 miles before running out of gas!

Let's see how your goal would convert to other forms of fuel.
140,000 calories is equivalent to:
4.53 gallons of gasoline, or
50.04 pounds of coal, or
69.44 pounds of oven-dried wood, or
6.13 gallons of propane
This amount of energy would ...
Brew about 391 pots of coffee, or
Light a 60-watt light bulb for 2,712 hours ( 113 days = 0.33 years)
Cutting 140,000 calories is the same as saying "no" to:
1,750 apples, or
1,400 bananas, or
8,235 cups of cabbage (whew!), or
966 baked potatoes, or
1,750 large eggs, or
1,167 cups of 2% milk, or
101 pounds of ground beef, or
1,609 glasses of wine, or
433 Snickers bars, or
583 Clif Bars ( 778 Luna Bars), or
1,007 cans of Coke, or
824 pints of Guinness beer, or
285 Big Macs, or
272 Quarter Pounders with Cheese, or
200 Whoppers, or
424 Subway 6" Oven Roasted Chicken Breast sandwiches, or
824 Taco Bell crunchy tacos, or
596 slices of pepperoni pizza from Pizza Hut

What it Takes to Burn 140,000 Calories
To burn 140,000 calories, a 190 pound male would have to:
Backpack for 232 hours (10 days) nonstop, or
Walk for 536 hours (22 days) at 3 mph straight, or
Walk 1,609 miles (1,006 kilometers), or
Bike for 406 hours (17 days) at 10 mph, or
Bike 4,058 miles (2,536 kilometers), or
Play basketball nonstop for 223 hours 9 days), or
Play billiards for 648 hours (27 days), or
Go bowling for 541 hours (23 days), or
Stay on the golf course for 406 hours (17 days), or
Spend 180 hours (8 days) playing competitive football, or
Jump rope for 171 hours (7 days) straight!

You would have to walk the length of England about 2.73 times to burn 140,000 calories.

The Nice Toilet

Oh this is great. Today Randy brought Super Z and Princess H up to work to visit for a bit. He had taken Ty and his friend to the skate park and had a little time to kill. After making the rounds and letting everyone ooh and ahh over my babies, we headed out. Super Z had to use the restroom, so I took him into the ladies room. Super Z says like the big boy that he is, " Mom, please stay here. I need privacy." So of course I nodded seriously and waited right outside the stall, close enough so that he could see my feet under the door. Sometimes he panics if the feet wander out of sight. So he is in there doing his business and the conversation after that point goes like this:
Super Z - " Wow Mom! This is a nice toilet! I love this button for flushing."
Me - " I am glad you like it."
Super Z - " I have never seen a toilet this nice! Did you make it when you got your new office?"
Me - " Did I make the toilet?"
Super Z - " Yeah, at your job. Did you make it? It has a cool button."
Me - "No, I didn't make the toilet."
Super Z - " Well come in and see, Mom. It is very nice."
I cracked up every time I thought of it for the rest of the day. I love when they visit. It brightens the whole office.

The Water Park

Tomorrow my sister and her family are coming to visit and we are all going to the water park! Five things always happen when we go to the water park.
1) Everyone gets really excited.
2) The babies get too hot.
3) The big kids get mad because they can't wander off by themselves.
4) Everyone gets sun burnt, no matter how much sunscreen they are wearing.
5) I argue with Randy because he lives to buy the overpriced low quality food at the water park. ( And I am cheap cheap cheap )
As you can see, I eagerly anticipate tomorrow. I cannot wait.
Actually, despite all of the negative things above, we always end up having a really good time, especially when my sister's crew comes. I will have to tell you all about my sister someday soon. For now I will just say that she is one of my favorite people, which is really something considering that it wasn't too many years ago that the Barbie destroying fiend was my mortal enemy. So yes, even I, the cheap and negative mother, falls victim to thing 1. I am really excited!

The Departure of Ty

Ty spends the summer, random weekends, and most holidays with us. He lives about 4 hours away now, but for the past 4 years he has lived in Kansas, Texas, and Georgia; so I would say that Alabama, which is only one state over, is a big improvement. We should be able to see him much more often. But that doesn't make the departure any easier. Randy is taking him home Sunday. This is a very sad time for us. When Ty leaves the house seems empty, Randy goes into the deep throes of sadness, and Super Z cries randomly for weeks. It is bad every year. This year will probably be even worse. Princess H has grown very fond of her oldest brother. He is the coolest person that she has ever known, I think. He is big enough to take her for a walk, but he is also very fond of dirt and playing cars. She follows him around constantly. He is much more patient with her than Super Z. He talks to her a lot. It has actually been one of the best parts of my summer, watching Princess H fall in love with Ty. I just hope that it isn't too hard on her when he is gone. I hope it isn't too hard on him either. I really don't think that she is the only one who has gotten attached.

Family Pictures

We went and had our annual family pictures taken this evening. It is better than it sounds, because the photographer is my cousin, Rae. So basically it was really relaxed and fun. We were outside, so there are plenty of shots of super Z rolling in the grass acting like a goon Once she is done with them I will share some with you. They are really going to be great. My whole family is gorgeous. Ty-Ty (my thirteen year old stepson), Super Z, and Princess H are all splendidly photogenic. You just can't get a bad picture of them at all. Even Randy is handsome. He is growing a beard now, so I don't know how that will come across in the pictures, but I am sure he will look great in them all. The only bad spot in any of the pictures was me. Really. I mean I am pretty photogenic, but you get me from the wrong angle and whoa Nelly! The biggest problem is that even though I have lost almost 40 pounds in the last 3 months, I still have more than a hundred to go. I look at the pictures and I am like, " WHAT!? AND I HAVE LOST WEIGHT? WHAT!!?" Yeah, I get pretty dramatic. But there are some good ones with me in them, rest easy. The whole point was a family picture, right?