Note to Self August 28, 2009

• Exercise is good for you.
• If you’re going to walk at 5:30 in the morning, you really don’t need to get up at 5 to get ready.  It doesn’t take that long to put on walking clothes and pull your hair up in a ponytail, Miss Priss.
• You live in Florida.  You will work up a sweat at 5:30 in the morning in August.
• Actually, you didn’t really “work up” a sweat.  You walked outside and started sweating because IT’S AUGUST IN FLORIDA.
• Exercise is good for you.
• You just started walking.  You are not entitled to a treat… Yet.
• Of course, it was just a junior Frosty.  And it was vanilla.  Doesn’t vanilla have fewer calories than chocolate?  If you think it enough, it may be true…
• Oh, and that Double Stuf Oreo that your daughter gave you doesn’t count.  Because really, how can you refuse a 2 1/2-year-old’s offer of a cookie?  I mean, she’s sharing.  You have to go along with it.  If you said “no, thank you,” you would simply upset the whole balance of order.
• If you think it enough, it may be true…
• Exercise is good for you.

Undomesticated August 26, 2009

Being in an actual house, I think I’m starting to feel like an actual housewife.  I’m doing laundry a lot more now.  Not that I didn’t do it regularly before, but… It’s more fun now.  It might be that I’m still in the honeymoon phase with the front loaders, but that’s okay.  I’m always picking up around the house, I’m putting the dishes away quicker, keeping the counters cleared off.  I’m making lunches at night, preparing the girls’ things for school before I go to bed.  I feel like Donna Reed.  (If you don’t know who Donna Reed is, then think of some more modern TV mom who cooked and cleaned while wearing a dress and heels.  And didn’t have an attitude.  Actually, finish reading this post first and then come back to that, because it’ll take you a while.)

I am even cooking more.

Oh, yes!  It is true!  I even got to burn something for the first time last night!  RICE!  Do you know just how wonderful burnt rice smells throughout your house?

It isn’t very wonderful at all, I have to say. 

And frankly… I’m sorry, my domesticated friends.  I apologize to you, those of you that enjoy spending time in your kitchens…

I’m not all that thrilled with this whole cooking thing.

First, there’s the raw meat.  Try as I might, I just… Okay, I’m gagging just writing about it.  Chicken, especially.  Raw chicken is the worst, and of course that’s what we like to eat most.  I’m not so bad with the lean ground beef.  Oh, but when I make a breakfast casserole and I’m browning the sausage…  *choke*

Enough of that.

Then there are the smells.  Is it in every house that the scent of whatever meal you’re making permeates through every room?  I thought I would be done with that when I got out of the apartment!  And my clothes!  My clothes smell like dinner!  I want to change my clothes after I’m done cooking!  But I don’t have that many clothes!  I thought the smells of dinner wafting through the air were supposed to be good!  And it’s not like I’m a bad cook and ruining the food, but they’re just always there! 

I bought a candle today to help with that.

The Husband is awesome when it comes to cleaning up after dinner, especially if I’ve prepared it.  So that part has improved.  I don’t mind cleaning up the plates after we’re done eating.  I have a hard time cleaning up the items that were used to prepare the meal.  I don’t know why.  Maybe there’s some kind of phobia or aversion to all things cooking-related…

Wow, Google is cool.

Mageirocophobia.  FEAR OF COOKING.

I sure as heck can’t pronounce it, but I may be on to something here…

Note to Self August 21, 2009

• It is too late in the day to eat your leftovers from last night’s dinner.  Especially when the leftovers make up more than half of your caloric intake for the entire day, and you may be eating birthday cake later.
• Find out if eating half of your lunch portion meal at Olive Garden then laughing continuously for at least an hour and a half evens everything out.
• Try to forget that you also ate more than half of the dessert after dinner. 
• Try harder.
• You have a pretty decent-sized fear of sharp objects.
• Knowing this, do not volunteer to be part of a magician’s act until after you find out if  the particular illusion you volunteered for includes a sword.
• Especially a sword that is supposed to be going through your neck.
• Illusion or not, the potential for having an accident in your pants while sitting on a stool on a stage in front of people is far too great a risk.
• Of course, after having two children, the potential for having an accident in your pants from laughing has increased as well.
• Consider this the next time your mother invites you out to see two comedians perform.
• Your mom rocks.
• Always take good care of her.  Especially if a situation like this ever comes up.
• Encourage friends and family members to get squished.  Or, if it’s a little early for that, encourage them to do the self-exams.
• Do not under any circumstance insert a joke here about The Husband helping by playing doctor.
• Oops.

Enjoy your weekend!

Is it Safe to Look? August 18, 2009

Last week, my older daughter started kindergarten.  When we were told the name of her teacher, naturally I was curious what others who had gone before thought of her.  Thankfully, all we heard were good things.  Wonderful things, really.  And a couple of people actually mentioned, as an aside, that the teacher is beautiful.

Yeah, beautiful.

Try smokin’ hot.  Maybe even hott.

So I’m thinking The Husband doesn’t need to come to the open house…

Actually, I’m just kidding about that.  He can come to the open house.   And he will.  And he will see the hot teacher.  And he will notice that she’s hot.

And that’s okay.  Because she is.

Seriously, it’s okay.  Call it faith, call it stupidity, I don’t care, but I’m okay with The Husband looking at attractive women.   They are everywhere, after all.  Most of my friends are cuties or hotties.  Shall I blindfold him each time we go to church?  Out to eat?  Walking to get the mail because one of our neighbors’ wardrobes seems to only consist of tank tops and shorts?  That would be silly.  And dangerous.

As long as he’s just LOOKING, it’s fine, because to the best of my knowledge, looking is something quite different than lusting.  Lusting, according to various dictionaries, is listed as an intense sexual desire or appetite; an uncontrolled or illicit sexual desire; a passionate or overmastering desire or craving.

So.  I do not think that The Husband is going to go to the open house and jump over the teacher’s desk or anything, so we’re good. 

Just as The Husband knows that when I watch Lost, I am not lusting after this guy:

Looking, yes.  Because he’s good looking.  At least, I think he is.  However, I do not want to go take a flight and hope that it crashes so I land on a disappearing island where that guy gives me a nickname and we can have dirty sex in a polar bear cage.  First of all, that’s a fictional story line.  Second of all, I personally am not interested in thinking about sex — clean, dirty, on a bed or in a cage – with anyone other than The Husband.  (Be that as it may, I know it’s not that easy for everyone, but that’s a different post for a different day.)

So I look.  The Husband looks.  You probably look.  God made some very attractive people, He does fine work.  I think it’s okay to appreciate that from time to time.  It becomes not okay if we dwell on the attractive people or their attractiveness and consider the possibilities of what can be done with them and their attractiveness.  Big difference.  Huge.

So if you can distinguish between looking and lusting, it’s probably safe to look.  Otherwise, I guess…

Note to Self August 13, 2009

Still unpacking.  Also doing the whole first day of school thing.  So…

• Your CHILD is in school, not you.  You are an adult.  You don’t need to be afraid of strangers.
• Well, some strangers, yes.  Probably not most of the moms you’re going to come in contact with though.
• Just keep telling yourself you’re good enough, you’re smart enough, and doggone it, people like you.  (Thank you, Stuart Smalley, even if you aren’t a trained therapist.)
• Don’t say that out loud, though, because then people might not like you.  Or else they’ll just be scared of you.  YOU will be the stranger.
• Regarding the unpacking, rearranging the boxes doesn’t actually mean that there are less of them.  Just a tip.
• Your fascination with doing laundry (not a euphemism) has to come to an end, and soon.  Stopping by the laundry room door to listen to how quietly the clothes tumble starts to just be weird at some point.
• It’s probably not as weird as watching the first load.  Don’t tell anyone you did that.  (Dangit.)
• Speaking of dangit, teach yourself a new word to say in frustration.  Your 5-year-old daughter is saying it with reckless abandon.
• On the other hand, there are worse things your daughter could be saying with reckless abandon.
• Speaking of reckless abandon, refer to your previous post and go pay attention to The Husband no matter what the lighting is like.

Have a nice weekend!

PG-13 August 10, 2009

This post is rated PG-13.  Some material may be inappropriate for children under 13.  And men.  I know more of my readers are women, but guys, you’ve been warned.  Of course, if you’re a married guy who has happened upon this somehow, you could read on and tell us ladies how you feel about this subject…

So the new house has those big, bright lights above the mirror in the master bathroom.  Excellent when applying makeup, plucking eyebrows, etc.  Not so great at hiding imperfections.  However, also in the master bathroom is the subtle and much dimmer light that is right above the shower.  It has affectionately been deemed “mood lighting.”  I love that light.  It’s kind of like candlelight.  Everything looks better in candlelight.

We women are so hard on ourselves, especially our appearances.  But, come on… Sometimes we’re just being honest with ourselves.  I am pretty darn content with how I look most of the time — clothed, that is.  Those of you who’ve had children may know what I’m talking about (and if you don’t, please keep it to yourself).  Stretch marks.  Stretched skin.  And, of course, the tragedy that occurs when the bra comes off.  (And as much as I love a great bra, it kind of only makes the natural state that much sadder…)

Allow me to get personal.  Actually, you don’t have to allow me, because it’s my blog.  Anywho… I have always had a problem accepting compliments from The Husband when it comes to my appearance, clothed or not.  Why?  Because he sees the same sides of me that I do, and I know it ain’t all pretty.  I KNOW.  I love-love-love being with The Husband, and I do mean being with in the way you think I mean being with, and I enjoy it.  I just hate that it takes such effort for me to believe that he thinks I’m all that and a bag of chips.  Furthermore, he wants me to initiate things from time to time.  (And, for the record, your own husband may want the same thing.)  It’s just really a challenge for me to feel all sexy when I’m thinking about which part of me is jiggling or wiggling when it isn’t supposed to. 

However, what I’ve read, what I’ve seen in marriage seminars, what I’ve been told… I need to let go of that.

First and foremost, God made us.  Psalm 139:14 says we are fearfully and wonderfully made.  And how does that song go by The David Crowder Band?  “You make everything glorious, and I am Yours.  What does that make me?”  Glorious, ladies.  GLORIOUS.  If you’re taking care of the temple, doing the best you can with it, you’re good.

On top of that, the guys don’t see the imperfections the same way we do.  They just want us.  Now, at first, I got frustrated with this notion.  I heard it in a marriage seminar, and I thought, “Of course they don’t care, they just want the SEX!”  But that’s not always what it’s about — and this is what I’m taking way too long to learn.  So maybe you can learn it faster than me.  Dr. John Gray, the author of Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus, had this to say:

When a man is in love and turned on by his wife, he is also totally entranced by the feminine beauty of her body, regardless of where the media would rank her on a scale from one to ten.  When he is  in love with his wife, he experiences the perfection of her body for him.

If that’s not enough for you, allow me to present you with a poem written by a man for a group of women in a Bible study (Intimate Issues: 21 Questions Christian Women Ask About Sex).  I led this study and I sometimes sent the wives out with “homework” for their husbands.  When asked to answer what is attractive to men, this was his response.  (Thank you, Keith, for letting me share this.)

I was asked to write a poem
About what’s attractive in women to men.
I was hesitant –
How much trouble could flow from my pen?
I looked into my soda,
Took a drink from my glass.
How, poetically,
Can I explain your a**?
I gazed at the crystals,
Watched the melting cubes.
What words do I write
To explain our fascination with your b**bs?!

You gals are so great,
We love you so.
You wanted to know how,
So here I go:

As you stand on one leg,
Reaching for those upper shelves,
There are a number of things
That make it hard for us to control ourselves.
Those toes, with the foot raised up off the floor -
Sexy little digits -
Start us wanting more.
Up to the calf -
Our gaze drifts to there.
The beautiful curve, the soft skin,
What other pleasures will you share?

Ah yes, there’s the roundness
Of where you sit.
Whatever YOU say,
It gives us a fit!

What do we do?
How do we deal?
You may be making dinner,
But you’re starting more than just a meal.

Your shirt lifts up,
There’s a beautiful sliver of unexpected skin.
To explain our desire
We can’t even begin.

You just reached up
And grabbed a can of peas.
To US,
You just knocked us to our knees!

Our minds are racin’,
Our blood is rushin’,
You look at us
And wonder, “What’s all the fussin’?”

Well let me tell you,
Listen up girl.
There are a few facts
With which you must deal:

First, there is no template
Within which you must fit.
We love you, we find you sexy.
To us, you are “it”.
YOU like to talk,
To tell us how you feel.
WE like to look,
And our touch is for real.

Fingers to cheeks,
Lips to lips.
The smell of your hair,
The curve of your hips.
We’re not really ogling,
Or pawing at your skin.
We’re loving you -
That’s just how it tends to begin.

You’re not objectified,
Just here for the sex.
If you’ll only observe,
We’re actually a lot more complex.

Our love is deep,
Our actions true.
We really love your body.
It’s how we connect with you.

Yes we’re physical,
And very visceral too.
It doesn’t mean we’re not truly in love
With the real you.

Give us a break,
Love us all you can.
Nobody said we’re normal,
We’re just – man!

A Blogger’s Prayer August 6, 2009

Forgive me, Readers, for I have sinned.  It has been eight days since my last post. 

O my Readers, I am heartily sorry for having abandoned you in order to move.  I dread the loss of your comments and the pain of declining hits.  I resolve to make every attempt to write more.  In the name of the Blogger, WordPress, and the Holy Facebook.  Amen.

As promised, this blog is coming to you LIVE (well, as soon I post it) from THE NEW HOUSE!  I am sitting on a step stool in what is to be our office, with the laptop resting comfortably on a cardboard box. 

I am surrounded by boxes.  I had a nightmare that they joined together in a very Transformerish way and attacked me.  It was only a dream.  It was only a dream.  (I have to keep telling myself that, otherwise I may hyperventilate.)

My first day in the house without The Husband was almost more intimidating than being home alone with a newborn.  It’s a lot bigger than I thought it would me.  One of many reasons God chose this house for us — I cannot even imagine what it would be like if it was larger!

One thing I miss about apartment living (other than being able to call someone if something breaks) is being on the second floor.  Today after I’d taken a shower and put on the bare necessities, I went out in the living room to talk to Big Sister.  It was then that I realized that with the blinds open, our living area is very exposed to our neighbors.  As was I.

There is much to do.  Hopefully my brain will function somewhat normally after we regain a somewhat normal life.  You know, not surrounded by boxes that could join together and attack.  Not flashing the neighbors.  Etc.

As for now, I must away.  Actually, this post could be longer, but I’m sitting on a step stool, and it’s not very comfortable…