Diary of a MILF in Progress

Daily dose of awkward

I had my high school reunion a few weeks ago.  But since it was pretty much what one would expect from a 20-year reunion- some people who looked really good, some people who looked pretty rough, some embarrassing dancing (not by me!) and lots of comparing of children- I'm not really writing about the reunion itself.

At the 'after-party' (read: trip to the bar for a few more hours of fun and freedom, since the babysitter had been paid for the whole night), one of my drunken classmates asked me where I worked.  Upon hearing the company, he informed me that he sometimes does bottled water delivery to my office.  He then proceeded to tell me about his start up, homebased business he is doing in addition to delivering water.  And a few minutes later, as part of another conversation, he told me again.  And before we left for the night, he'd told me again (each time as though it was the first time we'd discussed it.)

I've never been on hand when my department gets its delivery of water for the cooler.  Today I was.  And guess who I bumped into in my conference room? 

Fat like me

I've always struggled with my weight.  I was very skinny as a child, mostly because I was very active in my early years (kids in the 70's spent a lot more time running around and riding bikes during their free time than their computer addicted, 1990's counterparts) and because of my 5-day-a-week dance class routine later on.  But I ate to celebrate and I ate to quell depression and I ate when I had nothing else to do.  So, eventually, I got fatter.

When I was in college, I put on weight easily, but could drop it almost as easily by a quickie diet and some increased workouts.   Add fifteen years, three kids and a desk job to that picture and the weight loss isn't such a no-brainer, though.  I'm much more conscious of how often I choose to eat cookies instead of fruit, or how many drinks I consume (let's not take the time to calculate exactly how many calories are in a margarita, m'kay?) 

Regina Benjamin is an accomplished physician and also holds an MBA.  She was the first physician under the age of 40 to serve on the American Medical Association's board.  She was a recipient of the MacArthur Genius Award.

And she's overweight. 

Do you think Dr. Benjamin should be Surgeon General?  And would a heavy guy be under the same scrutiny?

 

Summer, it turns me upside down

How the hell did it get to be June, y'all?!  Seriously.  So, I pretty much lost a month along the line there, but I'm trying to be back amongst the posting population.  I have a big meeting this weekend, but I am actually on track for it (materials sent slightly behind schedule, but not because of any fuckup on my part.  Not that anyone cares that it wasn't my fault, I'll get blamed anyway, but as long as my boss doens't ding me, life it OK).  School ends in 17 days (but who's counting?!), which puts The Husband on the hook for child care.  Ah, it's nice to be married to a teacher sometimes!  While I am "working hard" in the office every day (read: taking long lunches whenever possible and eating in the courtyard), he's on dad duty with three under-12 munchkins.  Heh.  Paybacks are hell, since having a 'desk job' means that I am the one who answers the emergency phone calls from the kids' schools all year long.

One part of summer that is not making me happy is that I've fallen off the Weight Watchers wagon.  My at-work session ended a month ago because we couldn't maintain the minimum number of participants, and I haven't hauled my (ever expanding) ass to a meeting at a center.  But it's almost time to put a bathing suit back on, so that 5 pounds that creeped back on because I stopped paying attention is being given its eviction notice.  I also need to make a spray tan appointment, stat, because the whiteness of my legs is blinding my co-workers.

So, thanks for stopping by, and I promise to attempt cuteness for the upcoming summer months!

Breathtaking boringness, and....scene

So I went through some shit with my son about six weeks ago, culminating in him needing to be admitted to a psych hospital.  And I'm not going to go into it all, but suffice to say, he's being treated and life is better than it was, and we are going to be constantly "on the road to recovery" as opposed to "recovered," but it OK.  Then it was time for my husband to be really busy at work, and for my daughter to decide that it was a good time to try out the tween angst and rebellion (in the form of lying about her homework and not studying for test and the petulant frenzy trifecta of eyeroll/foot stomp/hand on hip whenever speaking to me).  And playoff hockey started, which means that I need to be a total superstitious goofball (no, I don't really believe that making macaroni and cheese or wearing a red shirt or knitting a specific pair of socks will mean that my team is going to win, but since they won when I made that particular dinner and knitting those particular socks, who am I to mess with the mojo?!)  And it's Spring, which for some folks means pretty flowers and sunlight, but for me means pollen counts through the roof and the need to make my annual skin cancer screening appointment with my dermatolgist.  Unfortunatly, one of my allergy symptoms is a cough and sore throat, which has most of my office mates convinced that I am spreading swine flu to the masses.  Which, bitch please, if I could spread some deadly disease and close our office for a week, wouldn't I have tried to do so a long time ago so I could stay home and sleep?!  For real.

Seriously, I just need a bottle of wine and a few days with no deadlines or appointments.  Is that so much to ask?

My poor parenting habits, on display

This commercial has been pulled from the airwaves because a parenting group strongly objected to the alleged sexualizing of a beloved cartoon character.

How bad is is that my kids and I thought the commercial was really funny, and that they recognized the original song as being on my iPod?

It's scary how our minds work

Transcript of an actual exchange between my sister and myself:

To: Sis
From: Dana
This is fangirly, but I think it's kind of cool that Ralph Fiennes' nephew is playing young Tom Riddle in the Harry Potter movie.

To: Dana
From: Sis
Did Ralph Fiennes play Voldemort?

To: Sis
From: Dana
are you messing with me or do you really not know that Ralph Fiennes played Voldemort?

To: Dana
From: Sis
I assumed he did, since you said that about his nephew, because that's why it makes sense for him nephew to play Tom, but I can't pick Ralph Fiennes out of a lineup. I really only know a few Harry Potter actors- Richard Harrison, Alan Rickman, Dame Maggie Smith

To: Dana
From: Sis
Harris, I mean. See? I'm hopeless

To: Sis
From: Dana
Richard Harris hasn't been Dumbledore since Chamber of Secrets, since he's, y'know, dead and all. But seriously? You can't recognize Daniel Radcliffe? Emma Thompson?

To: Dana
From: Sis
I recongize him, but if someone says "Who plays Harry Potter?" I can't answer. Same thing with the red haired guy who plays Ron. I've heard of Emma Thompson, but I don't know who she is, in HP or in real life. I know Gary Oldman, but only because I saw "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead," which is pretty much a three man cast. Please, are you surprised? I'm the queen of "that guy who was in that show with the rother guy and that woman."

[Dana's phone rings; caller ID indicates Sis' extension]
Dana: Yeees?
Sis: Was she the one married to Kenneth Branagh?
Dana:Yeah, but not when he was in Harry Potter. And they weren't in that one together anyway, since she didn't come until the third one.
Sis: Oh. I didn't realize he was in Harry Potter; I was thinking of the Shakespeare movies.
Dana: They were in Much Ado together.
Sis: I never saw Much Ado. I saw Henry V. Weren't they in all of them together?
Dana: I don't know, I only saw Much Ado About Nothing. Which, as Shakespeare movies goes, was kinda...well, it had Keanu Reaves, so...But it had that guy from House, too. Except back then, he was "that guy from Dead Poets' Society," the one who killed himself. In any case, Robert Sean Leonard was in Much Ado.
Sis: I don't watch House, but I know it. Roommate used to watch it, but it made him start getting all paranoid when he got weird symptoms, so he stopped. He's the British guy.
Dana: Well, that's Hugh Laurie. I'm not talking about the guy who plays House, I'm talking about the guy who plays Wilson, and the actor was the kid in Dead Poets' Society who killed himself. I mean, that's not the plot of the movie, but he was that guy. Honestly, I am constantly seeing people on, like, CSI or Law and Order or whatever and being all "Wait! That's Little Girl God! She can't be a teenaged killer!"
Sis: Everyone is in Law and Order. Whenever we go and see a show, we have a contest to see if anyone can find someone in the Playbill who wasn't in Law and Order.
Dana: Heh. When I saw Chicago, last month, Tom Wopat was Billy Flynn. Luke Duke can sing, y'all!
Sis: When I saw it, that other guy was playing him. The one who's dead.
Dana: Robert Urich. Wasn't Bebe Neuwirth playing Velma?
Sis: Maaaybe.
Dana: You don't know who Bebe Neuwirth is, do you?
Sis: No, not really.
Dana: Lillith, from Cheers.
Sis: Oh, OK. Yeah, I think that was her.

The part that is somewhat disturbing is that the only reason I couldn't identify who 'the guy in that show with the other guy and that woman' was, is because she didn't really have an actual person in mind. Personally, I plan to curl up on my couch at home tonight to watch that show with the guy from Dead Poets' Society (not Robert Sean Leonard, the other one), the guy who later did Six Feet Under, Benson and the woman from Desperate Housewives.

Sumbuddy thinks I'm dumb

I  just got one of those spammy emails with the link to an intelligence test.  The body of the email said "Someone thinks you're dumb!  Thier score was 127!  What's yours?  Click here [link]"

I suppose it's too much to hope for that the use of the plural possessive pronoun (spelled incorrectly) when referring to a single person was an intentional, tongue in cheek joke.

Dana Downer

I've been facing a family crisis in the past 8 or 10 days, one about which I choose not to go into great detail here.  Suffice to say, it's big and we're handling it, and it will be a long road to "OK," but we will get there.  It's got to do with my son, and we've got lots of support from extended family and the school and all, so it's much less awful than it's got potential to have been.

I got a flirty email and text message one day last week from one of the tech guys from my fall conference, from whom I haven't heard in awhile.  The text was of the "hey what're you wearing?" variety and the email was the slightly more innocuous "hey, just wanted to see how things are going!" sort.  I threw all caution social propriety to the wind.

Having a bit of a tough time lately, actually.  Yesterday we had to [insert brief, matter of fact description of medical issue].   I'll get back with you when I can be cute again ;-)

Not surprisingly, his response was (not in so many words, I'm paraphrasing madly) "Wow, look at the time!  Gotta go, and, uh good luck with that!"

Heh.

Six

Six years ago, right now, I was lying in the recovery room waiting for my spinal to wear off.  The baby had been weighed and examined and cleaned.  Vital stats had been called in to various family members.  My only job at that moment was to heal myself and care for him.

Right now, that boy is curled up on bed.  He has a fever of 101.7* at the moment, and just wants to rest his aching head.  I brought him water, and offered him applesauce.  I kissed his hot little head while he slept, and tucked his blankets around him.

Six years ago, I was his nursing mother.  Today I am his mommy the nurse.

Happy birthday, little man.  Tomorrow we can try for cake and celebrations.

Some things just get scary

The Elder Son has always been a stubborn, challenging type.  He was sitting breech for the final couple months of my pregnancy, despite many attempts on my part to get him to flip over.  In the weeks leading up to my due date, we scheduled an ECV to try to get him properly situated.  Even with much pushing from the doctor, he who was said to be the best in the area for the baby flippin' deed, Elder Son would not budge.  So, we did a c-section, and he was not pleased at being yanked from the womb.

Fast forward a few year, to kindergarten.  Many calls from the school when he decided that his desires did not match up with the instructions in the classroom.  Angst galore, culiminating in some testing last year to make a diagnosis of ADHD-hyperactive type (with inklings of ODD and some anxiety).  But we started on meds, and things got better.

Until a couple weeks ago, when Elder Son's disagreements with the aftercare staff caused him to run away, off school grounds.  There are few things that hang in your head more ominously than having "We've just called the police.  Get here as soon as you can," be the last things you hear in a phone call.  And last week, when the school called to say that his anger at another student, because of a disagreement over the rules of the chess game, if some accounts are to be believed, he lashed out to the point that one of the teachers had to visit the doctor to have the scratches and bites examined.  Five day suspension.

The last week has been a whirlwind of medication adjustments and conversations in which we try to figure out what is going on in that little eight-year-old brain.  And the next few days of the suspension  will be spent trying new medicine and calling more doctors.  Words like "neurologist" and "bipolar disorder" and "intensive outpatient program" and "antipsychotic prescription" can be unnerving.  Even more so when the word "pediatric" gets added to the mix.