And every pair of shorts comes with a complementary cookie!

I have been a little on the tired side lately, mostly owing to the lack of spinning class and the boys deciding bedtime is now 9:45, and not 8:30. The late bedtime is tough, but the lack of exercise is really tough! My teacher, the Fabulous Miss Silver, is no longer able to teach twice a week, and at best I’ll see her once a moth, so I am very sad about that. I'd go for long walks, but this darn rain...

I knew I was getting tired when I did some silly things, such as - I saw a cup on my desk and picked it up to take a sip of coffee. It was actually a cup full of pens.

Silly thing number two - I usually keep a bit of masking tape on my steering wheel to jot down a memo at a stop light. It’s easier than trying to find both pen and paper in a moving car. Well, yesterday I jotted down a note to myself, and wrote directly on the wheel. I guess my brain is saving itself for important stuff like inhaling and exhaling and driving safely and cooking nice, nutritious dinners.

I also have made a few extremely amusing oversights, one of which is this:

I went to Old Navy for more of those excellently-made-for-the-price and well fitting pairs of blue jeans. I wear the At Waist version, in a 14 short. Yes, I am small and plump. I also shopped in the men’s section, to see if I could get the DH something on sale. There was a lot of summer gear left over, including shorts. He wears a 30 or a 31 waist, therefore he can fit into a 16 Husky, in the cargo shorts style. "Husky" is what a little boy version of me (short and plump) will wear. I got the DH the shorts and me the jeans and took my loot home.

When I was unpacking I noticed there was something in the pocket of the shorts. Now, I have taken things back to a store after wearing them, who hasn’t? However, I generally make sure there isn’t anything in the pockets when I do so. Guess what was in the pocket? A chocolate chip cookie. I had to laugh, because it seemed so fitting.

I wonder what I would have found in the pockets of the returned size 0 Tall Slim Fit jeans? A 100 dollar bill and a gram of coke? I think I’ll go try on some second hand flash-dancer costumes next weekend. I might get something really interesting there.

I had a post with a quote from Nita

But in the light of day, I realize she is not worth it. She has a version of our fight, just as I have mine. However, I will no longer torment y'all with my squabbling. I am sure that is not why you come here!

I am now busy in my MS Word, working on a post about Moon Calendars and tracking your monthly cycle and how useful Moon Calendars can be. When I get it edited to my liking, I'l stick it up.

Watch this space!!!

That cow shall be executed at dawn...

I read a hilarious post the other day on a blog I love, Mimi SmartyPants .

She provides the funniest and strangest links on her site, and one of them was all about meatpacking and the meat industry. (No, not that kind of meatpacking! Get you mind out of the gutter. It’s squashing me.)

There was one section about condemned pigs and cows, and for what reasons meat is rejected as unfit. She called the section unintentional vegetarian propaganda. I got such a hee haw laugh out of the section on sexual odors of swine! The writers put over and over “such meat shall be condemned.” I kept thinking, “Man, these poor animals keep getting get condemned. They must have some awful lawyers.”

Unintentional as the propaganda was, I must admit: after reading some of the slaughtering techiniques used to prepare beef for those tidy parcels we see at Stop and Shop, I have passed by the meat section of the market, without taking anything home. How much protein is in tofu anyway?

MOT - One, Coca-Cola - Ten Billion. But one for me is good...

Time is on my side. Literally.

Now you know being the insecure/conceited/self-depreciating/self-promoting thing I am, I would not be referring to my smooth skin, or clear eyes, or pearly smile. Or immature attitude, for that matter. No, alas, wrinkle free-ness is still a big part of my thought process. When I find the secret, I’ll let y’all know. I am referring to an article I read in a November TIME Magazine all about Coca-Cola. I was dee-lighted to see that in Coke’s Quest for Cool (the title of the piece) Phil Lempert, author of the Lempert Report on the Food Industry, argues that Coke needs to totally re-think the way they make and market what we all know is an unhealthy product. (Sorry, Preacher Mom!)

A quote:

Lempert and others argue that it’s time for Coke to tamper with its famous ingredient mix. Most Coke is sweetened with high-fructose corn syrup, yet kids in Latin America are drinking sugar-based, fruit sweetened beverages, he says. Lempert says the cola market will continue to dry up without a radical recipe shift. “The savior of cola, and I don’t know who is going to do it first, Coke or Pepsi, is the re-introduction of the core product, substituting sugar for the high-fructose corn syrup.”

Yeah, baby! Music to my ears! If the almighty Coca-Cola has industry analysts advising it to ditch the toxic HFCS in favor of good old nice n’ sweet sugar cane (which only has 16 calories per spoonful, BTW) I just might start sippin’ the Coco-Juice again. Next, Mickey Dees will start making baked sweet potato fries, and who knows? In a few years, the twins and I may take a trip to the Golden Arches for fries and a Coke.

But only if the Happy Meal includes a non-Disney related surprise toy made out of sustainable wood and hand painted with biodegradable paint by Benedictine monks. Then I'll be happy. Hey, who just said, "Fussy-Britches"?!

Oral Surgey is scary

Some pals and I share the common disorder of grinding our teeth in our sleep. Since this causes gum recession (yikes) and may necessitate oral surgery (double yikes!) this is something we need to deal with. I have taken to doing relaxation exercises before bed. I have found that a few yoga postures and a double Harvey Wallbanger generally do the trick. I’m out so cold I can’t shut my mouth, let alone grind my teeth. Another friend wears a mouth guard, which she has bitten through already. (Triple yikes!)

The third friend, a new-bee in the world of tooth grinding, was recommended wearing a mouth guard by his dental care practitioner. Except this fella referred to it as an “appliance”.


Man, did I get a big he-haw out of that! I asked him if he could use any appliance he liked; a toaster, a coffee maker, microwave? I can just picture the poor guy with a blender strapped to his chest all night. Of course, if he decides to add frozen margaritas to his nightly ritual (for relaxation purposes only, naturally) a blender could come in handy. Or maybe he could try a freezer! But that might not count. It could be considered a “large” appliance. Hmm, let’s call Sears…

Blue Policemen are cool policemen....

There is a town near me, with the weird name of Blue. I know, what were the founding fathers thinking? Anyway, the police ride around in these cars with "Blue Police" painted on the sides. I get a chuckle every time I see it. I think, “Ohh! Call 911, the police man is choking!” and “Better get some heat in those cars…” and so on.

With Halloween coming up and all, I had an idea! I should call in and suggest the entire force go as the Smurfs. That way, they really would be blue policemen, at least for one day.

D’ja think I’d get arrested for disrespecting a peace officer?

My car shrank in the wash...no, it was stolen!

Recently, to save gas, I switched from my big old pale green VW Passat to my little old silver colored stick shift Jetta. I was just waiting for all my pals to notice and ask me about it. I had two clever stories prepared. That first one is as follows:

Well! It was the craziest thing! I pulled a Missus Bad Mother and left my children in the car, sleeping, while I went into Taco Bell for lunch. I was only gone for about twenty minutes, but when I came out, the car was gone! I was pretty mad about it. Of course, the babies were still there; they hadn’t been stolen. But here’s the craziest part of the story - they were still asleep! Ha ha ha ha! Of course, everyone would know this was a complete fabrication. I would NEVER eat at Taco Bell.

My second story is - With all this rain, the car got very muddy. So, I washed it in hot water, then put it in the dryer. Wouldn't ya know it? Not only did it shrink, but the color faded too! Hee hee ho ho!

Yessiree, I was all ready. Five days after I switched cars, someone finally did comment on the fact. What did I say back?

“Yeah, well, gas is not cheap anymore, and the Jetta is more efficient.”

I know, I know. I had my chance, and I blew it.

Judge-y Wudge-y was a bear

The lovely state in which I live, and I am not referring to the state of bliss – har de har har, has recently added to the laws one that states no one shall operate a moving vehicle whilst chit chatting on a hand held cellular telephone. Since the surrounding states have had this law for some time now, so just a matter of time before we did too. Now here we are, my pals and I, all scrabbling around for hands free cellular devices and wiring ourselves, so as to continue to be law abiding citizens. (Of course, my DH would not call me a "law abider", because he recently had to pay a $200 speeding ticket for me. My job, whilst all consuming and all rewarding, doesn’t pay a dime. For more on this topic, please see Ann Crittenden’s The Price of Motherhood. It’ll make you MAD.) But what I was going to tell y’all is this: Just today, one week after the law went into effect, I am on my way home from my playgroup. What do I see? A policeman, in a police cruiser, zipping down a main street, yapping on a hand-held cell phone, for the entire world to see. Honestly, next thing I am going to see is a police car going over the posted speed limit…

Am I being judgmental here? A few nights ago, in my spinning class, my dear teacher, a very clever woman who I like very much, told me I was being judgmental when I told this other girl in our class how to cook sweet potatoes. This girl, let’s call her Annabel, is new to the class and was asking for tips on how to eat better. Since she admitted she likes Wendy’s the best (!) of all the restaurants around, I could tell she really needed tips, and fast. I did not, not even a little, launch into my tirade on the evils of fast food. She’s only 20-something and has cut her teeth on the stuff, so I’ll just let her see Super Size Me and be horrified on her own. What I did tell her was this;
“Okay, get a whole sweet potato, peel it, slice it or chop it into rough chunks or even-ish slices, toss it in boiling water and cook it until a knife just sinks into the pieces easily. Then you can mash the potato with a fork, or just eat the bits as is, with salt or maple syrup or whatever. Also, once cooked, it’ll keep in the fridge for about three days, useful, right?”

Apparently, her eyes just glazed over, and she nodded and Uh huh-ed and blanked me out. The next class, Miss Silver, the teacher, told me, “Ya know, MOT, you were being really judgmental to Annabel in the last class when you gave her a lecture on cooking sweet potatoes.” I was floored. Well, not literally, because I was on a spin bike doing about 25 miles an hour at the time, so it would have been dangerous. But still, I was a bit shocked.

I know I am mighty opinionated, and I know I have a burning desire to help people eat better and improve their way of life by improving their diets. Just ask anyone who has heard me gas on about High Fructose Corn Syrup and liver damage for an hour. My friend, Preacher Mom, called this my “Ministry”. (I thought that was great, I always wondered why the hell I was here on this earth!) I also know I have a big mouth and like to express myself and I love to teach and share my experiences, whenever I can. But judgmental? I don’t agree with that. To me a judgmental person is someone who condemns or categorizes someone else based on his or her actions or lives. I was not telling Annabel I thought she was a bad person, or a stupid person, for not knowing how to cook a potato. I was trying to teach her something she expressed an interest in learning. However, I got it wrong. According to my fellow student Carla, and our teacher, I was pushy and domineering and Annabel was not ready or able to hear what insights I had to share. Huh. Go figure.

I have a theory. I think that one of the reasons people disagree is that our brains are all built differently. There are all these receptor sites in our heads, and a lot of us have different sites than other people do. These receptor sites are where certain bits of information plug in and are processed. If you don’t have the site built yet, and/or have nowhere for the new site to go, you are absolutely unable to process the information given, because it just bounces off and slides away. If the site is partially built, you can get a bit of the information, but it doesn’t really sink in. Or plug in, to maintain the theory. This means that Annabel is missing the receptor where my sweet potato mash recipe could attach; therefore, she was not be able to retain the knowledge. Does this statement mean I am judging her? Does this mean I am being judgmental? Am I calling her a stupid idiot for being too young/too inexperienced/too disinterested to listen to me? Well, no. There are loads of people who don’t listen to me, for loads for reasons.

I hope it’s not because I am so judgmetal. George, whattya think?

Weaning myself and gaining the world

As you dear readers know by now, I have been off the breastfeeding estrogen rollercoaster for almost two weeks now, with just one bout of nighttime nursing for each boy. My oh my, what a roller coaster it was! I truly didn’t realize how much my hormones all crazy, the physical demands of nursing twins, the constant pull of them on my emotions and the lack of personal space made me crabby, touchy, grouchy, fussy and a bit out of control. To all those I have screamed at, stomped on, yelled at, evil eyed and/or insulted in some way, I beg leave to apologize.

A few days ago, I had a conversation with a guy I know. Because he is intelligent and sensitive and a stay home dad, I know he really can relate to what it’s like to be a stay home mother. Of course, he didn’t get to experience the estrogen laden breastfeeding part of it, but he’s in touch. Anyway, I told him how much better I feel as a human being about life in general and how much more patience and emotional strength I have since I stopped being so drained by the boys. He said, and this was interesting, “Oh, I guess you owe our friend with new twins an apology, right?”

What he meant by that is this: I had advised, because she had asked, that our friend nurse her new twins for as long as she could. For her, that might have been a few weeks, or a few months, and not necessarily two years. She decided against breastfeeding at all, owing to their early birth and the experience she had in the NICU. I won’t share details, because it is her story to tell, not mine.

I told my guy friend, “No, I don’t need to apologize, because I gave her the best advice I could have given her at the time. When she asked, five months ago, I had just begun to wean, and was still totally into nursing the boys. So I was serious in telling her how wonderful breastfeeding is for babies. Science supports me here and I have not changed my mind on the value of nursing. However, I no longer feel it necessary to nurse for as long as possible, just nurse for as long as you and the baby need to nurse. If that means after one year of breastfeeding Mama is going bonkers, well, wean the baby at one year.”

It was an interesting and valid point he raised; here I am, telling all and sundry how great I feel now that I have stopped nursing, and a year ago I was telling everyone on the planet how great it was that I was still nursing. Hmm. Does that mean I am a bi-polar nursing freak? Don’t answer so fast, you there!

What I feel it all means is this: I did what I thought was best at the time, not realizing quite how powerful the mind altering hormones were coursing through my brain and body really were. It was not until I had stopped did I see that for the past six months at least, a lot of my anger and frustration at EVRYTHING could be attributed, in part, to lactation. This is not to say that all nursing mothers are touchy and grouchy, no, I am one of the lucky ones! Just like pregnancy affects different women very differently, and just as some men find pregnant women beautiful and others find them scary and gross, different women react to the hormones released by nursing in very different ways.

I have met and have heard about the women who love being pregnant and I have read about women who nursed happily for four years, then had a weaning party. (Yes, I really read that, in Mothering Magazine, ‘natch.) On the other hand, I basically hated every day of my pregnancy. Therefore, I am kind of a nutter for thinking I’d love nursing better. Oh, of course sometimes it was great, especially from month four, when they really had the hang of it, to about month sixteen, when they could come up to me and ask to nurse and snuggle. It was also super easy to get them to sleep by nursing them there, and it was so good for my reading! I spent many a happy hour curled up with my boys, reading book after book as they nursed and napped in my arms. It was a really special time, but I over-killed it a bit.

With the clear vision of hindsight I can see what happened. I got used to nursing and used to the physical demands of two boys and became accustomed to feeling unpleasant and weird. When the unpleasant feelings, the exhaustion, the moodiness and the fly-off-the-handle thing just stayed and stayed, even after they were able to tell me what they needed, walk on their own, play together without needing me 200% of the time, I did not even consider the nursing hormones as a cause. In fact, I even felt moody and grouchy once they had started school. You know, the big "break" that was supposed to make it all better. The fact that it is no longer 90 degrees in the shade and that I am guaranteed a 3 hour break from Mama-hood every three days is a part of it, but not that big a part of it. The first week they were at school I still resented them when I went to pick them up and still found the whiny-crying as irritating as a hair shirt. Now when they boo-hoo and screech Mama! I only want to comfort them. Naturally, I still want them to stop screeching, and it is still irritating, but just a little. It’s less “hair shirt” and more like an itchy tag in a new tee shirt. Since I know I am not going to be quite so invaded, I can hold a baby or two for twenty minutes at a stretch, if needed.

I have heard, from many, many Mamas that these are the wonderful years. When the babies are small and when they love you so much, and just light up to see you…this is the best time of your life. Now that I am not so miserable, I can see how many feel this way. I still don’t think I was intended by some grand plan to be a stay at home mother, but since I am far too lazy to go find a paying job, I’ll keep the one I have.

One of my favorite movies is A Man for All Seasons, directed by Fred Zinnemann. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend you do. There is a scene in which John Hurt’s Richard Rich tells a damning fabrication about Paul Scofield’s Sir Thomas Moore, sealing Sir Thomas’ fate as a traitor to the Crown, and giving Henry VIII the excuse to execute him. Sir Thomas sees Rich’s new chain of office and asks what it is for. Rich replies he is now a chancellor of Wales, or a tax collector of Wales, or some major figure in Wales. Sir Thomas says, "What shall it profit a man if he wins the whole world but loses his soul - but for Wales! For Wales!" When people said to me, “MOT, I know being a mother is difficult, but I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world.” I used to reply, "I’d trade it for Wales." However, I have since reserved my feminine right, and have changed my mind.