My tongue was bleeding. I had to.

There are times in which you should bite your tongue. You should hold back whatever words are fighting to leave your lips, and have a little self control.

For instance, when an ungrateful bitch was going on and on about how she hadn't gained any weight thus far in her 17 weeks of pregnancy, I held my tongue. When she acted like she didn't know why and went as far as to blame it on stomach flu, I bit my tongue. She has no idea that I know full well she's on a diet: she told this to my friend other day, referring to her yet to be born spawn as a horrid child that would not force her to lose her figure. But I was strong, and played along...even when she said something about having a beer the other day.

I asserted the utmost self control when I overheard someone referring to non church-goers as living in sin. I held strong then.

I even managed to bite my tongue when I overheard a woman say of her two year old brat that she could go all day eating two crackers. I held back the words well if you'd offer her more than Goldfish and Vanilla Wafers.....I fought the urge.

I even showed a great deal of restraint when a little boy twice Adrien's age tumped over the Cozy Coupe he was playing in all because he wanted to drive it. I refrained from scolding the child too hard, even though my child had fell face first into the ground, cozy coupe on top of him, complete with with mouth full of grass. I simply dusted Adrien off, comforted him, and insisted that this hellish child apologize to Adrien -- which he did.

But I could not hold my tongue any longer when the same little boy who dumped Adrien out of the Cozy Coupe ran up to Adrien and threw him off of the trike he was riding and then promptly jumped on it himself. When I asked the hellish turd to let Adrien finish his turn, he told me flat out No! and rode away.

You're such a little brat! I yelled under my breath.

A friend of hell-boy's mother was near (who, by the way, saw the whole situation unfolding and said nothing to hell-boy) and I'm sure heard me say it.

Oh my God, I'm sure she'll report to her friend...Do you know what she called your child?

A Brat! GASP!

Oh, the calamity of it all.

Shit.

Why I feel the need to often state the obvious, I'll never know. I do know that hell-boy didn't hear, but I am glad to note repercussions felt by his mother finding out. Some things need to be heard.

Silver bells....silver bells....soon it will be Christmas Eve....

Nothing like the Christmas Section at Wal-Mart to get you in the spirit.

We had to make a quick run to the evil store for a few things (like a curtain rod to keep out the evil morning light in the bedroom), and the first place we went was the seasonal section. Christmas hadn't really been on my mind lately until the lady who does our children's sermon at church brought it up in the little story she told on Sunday. When she said there was a short 7 or 8 weeks left until the big day, Andi and I (the whole congregation, really) looked at each other with jaws gaping and visions of last minute shopping running through our heads. I know, I know, having shopping come to mind first thing when Christmas is mentioned isn't the greatest, especially while sitting in service, but it's the truth. What are we going to get for Adrien, we asked each other.

Anyway, I'm really excited about the whole thing now. Adrien's slightly older than he was last year, and oh man am I not looking forward to keeping him out of the tree. On top of it, I won't have the added stress of having a four year old foster child living with me (who happens to be my half brother) this year. Man, talk about tight budget: shopping for two kids -- one picky four year old and your own child who is having their first Christmas -- on less than $200. We did it, though, and man were they happy. Adrien got a huge stuffed Mickey Mouse from Santa. He loves that thing still. Just today he made the enormous Mouse give me a high five.

Andi's insisting we not buy anything with Season's Greetings on it. I agree. But I'll steer away from semantics.

So, here I am, anticipating the holiday, waiting anxiously to decorate...and still waiting for that cold weather to kick in. Nothing says Christmas like 80 degree weather and tank tops.

Only in Texas.

One other thing that's been on my mind is the recent time change. It's not so much the numerical time, as it is the day light that goes along with it. Never in my life do I remember the sunrise and sunset patterns to be so out of whack. For some reason, the sun seems to be rising before 6:30am and setting at a modest 6pm. I hate that I am awakened in the morning by the horribly rays of sunlight way before it should be bright out. (Hence the curtain rod we bought at Wal-Mart) And the fact that it's dark at 6:00 is preposterous. I mean, really. The whole thing has made me so incredibly sleepy all the time. On the up side, Adrien's started going to sleep much earlier...which is a huge bonus. But really, I could do without the wee hour sunrise.

Anyone else having that problem?

Hopefully I'll have something more exciting to blog about tomorrow. There's a get together with the mommy group...should be tons of fodder there. This blogging every day is really tiring.

I'm so sweet! (Nah...)

Thanks to Mimi, who awarded me this sweet treat blogger award.

She's really way sweeter than I could ever be, but her blog is so great! And she leaves the best comments ever!

I'd like to pass this award on to Candace because she's still NaBloPoMo'in it up even though she's traveling -- with two children. And also, just because I couldn't get through the day without her wonderful posts and support.

Also, I'd like to hand this little sweet treat over to Missy because 1) Her blog makes me laugh endlessly, 2) She is the best dern Paintbrush artist I know, and 3) Because she stumbled over my blog a long time ago and she's stuck with me as a reader. Let's hear it for loyal readers! Thanks so much, Missy!

Anyway, I'm so happy I got this award. It made my day. We picked up Adrien from Andi's parent's house earlier and he was hoarse and wheezy. Not sure if he's hoarse from crying and screaming a ton or from being sick. He'd been a bit congested, not much, but all the same had just started with a dry cough Friday or so. Lo and behold, we pick him up and it's an icky congested cough. We both have the same thing right now, all allergy induced. I really wanna take Adrien to the doctor and demand they do something. He would rarely be sick if it weren't for his stinking allergies that always turn into a more severe problem! I HATE it. So now the poor guy's all wheezy and whatnot. Let's just hope it clears up :/

But thanks for the award, Mimi! It was a pick up I needed. Our ice skating was thwarted today, as they were setting up the huge Christmas tree in the middle of the rink. That bummed me out. I only stayed a short while in the American Girl Boutique because I felt so incredibly dumb and embarrassed that I was just as excited as the 8 year olds shopping beside me. I could spend hours there, so let's just hope that I eventually have a girl. Then I can camouflage my doll-wielding desires. I did get to go see an exhibit of the 40 best covers and photographs from Vogue magazine though. It was great...some of them were from the early 1900s. Exquisite.

I hope this counts

Just got back from the Angelika. We went and saw The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. Very good movie. Superb.

I hope this does not "not" count for my post today. I started to post earlier...but hesitated. I didn't realize the movie would start so late or be so long.

All in all it was a great anniversary. Went through the whole day feeling as though I was missing something. (Pooter)

Went and had the best barbecue for lunch. Shady Oak. Walked around a mall with an ice rink. Decided we'd be better off at an ice rink at another mall tomorrow (today, technically), when it would be a Monday and the hoards would be at work or school mostly.

Very excited. The mall where we're going ice skating at tomorrow just opened the fourth American Girl Boutique. [I have Kirsten] Very Very Excited. Feeling like a little girl again...a tired little girl...that's still missing something.

We'll get Adrien back tomorrow (today), though. I swear I used to be relish my alone time, and now I can never count the hours down soon enough until I am no longer a liberated adult.

Five dollars for what seemed like a gallon of Dr. Pepper at the theater. I'm strange, I think I went to the same stall in the bathroom each of the million times I had to pee. Andi got Twizzlers that he didn't even eat.

We ate dinner at our favorite little fall back Thai restaurant (once taken for granted) -- Royal Thai. Tom Yum Gai soup with sticky rice...something with beef and peppers for Andi.

There was some sort of screening and Q&A session in the theater with an actor from The Kite Runner before our movie started. It seemed like a clown car -- all the people that kept filing out from that place haphazardly. We showed up to our film a good hour early (maybe more). We just watched all the artsy types and strange ones that came out of the woodwork.

We both felt out of place in that urban, hipster setting. Some place I used to feel at home in.

Now I just feel older, out of touch, and not so "cool".

Why can't I twitch my nose?

Woohoo, I've just noticed I've rounded the 90 post mark. This is #91.

Well I'm just on to post something quick. My one post for today.

I have people coming over again today. In a little more than three hours, a Pampered Chef consultant will be showing up at my door to cook at my house for other people. Don't get me wrong, I signed up for this little shindig. I'm just worried about all the crust underneath my stove burners. I mean, seriously...it's gross.

So I've got three hours to clean my house top to bottom, make it smell nice, defrost some chicken (for her Caribbean Jerk Nachos), and have some time to make it look like I was relaxing all day. Why relaxed all day? Because in the world of the the happy housewife, a perfect house should come naturally -- dontcha know.

Andi currently has Adrien with him for a cross town trek to his friend's house to do manly things. Things like going to the auto parts store and changing his oil. It's a good thing too, because I'd never get anything done if he were here. If there is a vacuum in the same vicinity as Adrien (I'm talking a good 5 miles radius), he will run over and insist that he do it. He's obsessed with cleaning...the tools of the trade specifically. That's also a good thing, as I am not. So I guess it's good that he's off to do manly things, or he'd be at home with me doing purportedly girly things. He'll make a nice housewife someday. Just the other day he dug out a new sponge and was pretending to scrub the sides of the kitchen island. And if he sees the Swiffer? Well, it's over then.

After my party, my mother in law will take the Pooter Dumplin' to her house where he'll stay tonight and Sunday night. Sunday is me and Andi's anniversary. Yes, two whole years going strong, HA HA! Two years.

Well anyway, it's now less than three hours left until the consultant gets here. Better get my mojo going. I got my coffee in one hand, broom in the other. Why can't I just be like Samantha from BeWitched? Go ahead, click on the link.

Picking apart a Guru

Yes, NaBloPoMo, I am yielding. Nothing too exciting from today to post about...but I'll dig way down deep -- a few days ago deep -- for this one. [Oh, and in case you're wondering, I finally made my soup today. SUPER!]

On Wednesday, a friend and I ventured over to Wholesome Living Guru's house for a little mini-play date. I always like going to this woman's house because I know she's always chomping at the bit to throw in her wholesome advice on living, cooking, and doctoring.

Normal Friend mentioned to Wholesome Living Guru lady something about breakfast, and anyway, the subject was turned onto kids' cereal bars: which brand is best. Obviously Normal Friend and I are amateurs at feeding our children properly, so we need the fill-in advice of Wholesome Living Guru (or so she thinks). Normal Friend mentioned something about how she tried the Gerber ones, but then realized that they had zero nutrition. This sent Wholesome Living Guru into a frenzy of explaining the hazards of dyes, food colorings, and yes, the dreaded corn syrup. A five minute lecture on this matter. Five minutes. Normal Friend and I sat there nodding our heads, not able to get a word in edgewise. Later on she offered us some free Gerber Graduates Meals (gag). Now those are some wholesome meals.

I remember another occasion at Wholesome Living Guru's House with Normal Friend. There we sat discussing fevers and medications, etc, when Wholesome Living Guru got into a sort of argument with Normal Friend [who comes complete with medical degree] about how fevers have a purpose...and how she doesn't give medicine unless her child's fever is over 102. Normal Friend has a medical degree. Yet, when Normal Friend explained the pros of fever reducing medications, Wholesome Living Guru stood strong. I mean obviously, her three years of parenthood outweigh a medical degree. What was Normal Friend thinking. I mean, I didn't even try to argue with Wholesome Living Guru on this one. It's a moot point. If she argues with a medical degree backed person, what would she think of my fashion design wielding self?

So then, in irony of all ironies, as I walked into Wholesome Living Guru's kitchen to pour myself another cup of (organic) coffee, I noticed something. Something insignificant. Something so small and ridiculous...nevertheless it made my heart glow. Upon inspection, her dishwasher was set on High Heat Dry, High Heat Wash and Energy Saver was switched off.

Yes, yes, I know. Immature, maybe; nit picky -- sure! But this little switch that wasn't flipped made my heart sing.

I had her beat on one wholesome front: My energy saver is on, buddy! On like Donkey Kong.

Take that!

Observations

I've had this big fat recipe staring me down for a while now. I'm finally going to be making it. Since the weather's finally cooled off a little bit, I've been in a huge soup mood. Andi, however, does not like soup. But what the hell, I'm making a big pot and I can eat it for lunch. My house smells divine...I'm making the vegetable stock for it as we speak. I can't wait! It's vegan to boot.

So I got up today and went to the gym. I had all intentions of participating in a yoga class...but since no clocks are ever exactly correct (or synchronized), I was five minutes late by one clock at the gym and nearly ten minutes late by yet another clock there. The clock in my car said I was three minutes early. I didn't want to be the new chick who held up the class because I walked in late and oh, by the way, doesn't know any actual yoga poses...except for downward dog. Does that pose even count? So anyway, I opted for the treadmill -- again. This time I did an hour.

I like to people watch while at the gym. Generally I go to the very back line of treadmills, but today there were two men on that row, so I opted for the second to last row. I like to watch how all the guys over at the weight station act. I swear that nearly every guy over there glances around at least every three minutes. I think this is to see who is watching them; if anyone is aware of how strong they are. It goes back to that whole primal dominant male thing.

Then you have the women who I see there regularly. There are two women who are always on the treadmills together. I think they got a little peeved today because I was in the prime television viewing spot. It took them a few minutes and a couple of treadmills to find a spot where they could both be together and in front of the television that they wanted to watch. The Price is Right was what they were forced to watch: apparently I was in the middle of their news viewing station. Drew Carrey isn't that bad, ladies.

There are also all sorts of ladies who I think must have eating disorders. I have radar for them. The other day, a rail thin girl I'd been eying all morning ran and ran on the treadmill. She looked like she was running a marathon; arms flailing wildly as her long, blond ponytail swished from side to side. As I was dying on the elliptical machine, she looked like she could run forever...very Forrest Gump cross country-ish. And then, out of breath, she ran over to the trash bin where she vomited for a good three or four minutes. I felt a little bad for the woman on the elliptical beside her who tried to look away as much as possible. I feel like I should have helped her, but at the same time I felt like she didn't want to be helped...like she'd be more embarrassed than she already was. She knew full well what she was doing to herself. But before my conscience could fight too much, another woman went over and offered a helping hand. As the girl stood there vomiting, I noted in my mind her enormous over sized sweatshirt and sweatpants that bagged and sagged where they should have been tight. I remember all too well those days: you wear clothing that's too big to hide the fragile frame beneath...and when you've gotten to your rock bottom, the clothing that used to fit nicely now falls off in places where curves used to hold everything in place. After she was done vomiting, she slunk away and poured herself down the stairs, where I assume she promptly left the building. I felt deeply for her.

Today I spotted another one of these women who, I imagine, tortures herself for perfection. A young girl walked over to one of the stair stepper machines, got on, and began to climb the endless stairwell. As she went, she stared into different directions aimlessly -- painfully. She really looked as though she was calling out for someone to make her stop. After a while on the stair stepper, she pried herself off and left, legs shaking.

I just really don't understand why, as women, we feel the need to torture ourselves to be the ideal. And as much as we want to blame this tendency on others, we really should look inward. I could blame the media for my previous eating disorder. I could. Or I could just confess that it was my own messed up perfectionism that drove it. Why do we keep striving to be something that is impossible? I wonder. We set our minds on a goal that is most likely unattainable (or nearly so), and of we do reach it -- however miraculously -- there is always another impossibility to strive for.

As mothers, we do it as well. We always want what's best for our children. That's what we say, right? And who in their right mind wouldn't want what's best? But we all know we take it a step further. We're guilty of mothering as a competitive sport. It's only natural that we want to be the best at what we do. But we really should learn to take it in stride. As women and mothers, our lives would be a lot more fulfilled if we just took everything with a grain of salt.

Stop taking everything so seriously and just live.