Earmuffs!

I think every parent (well, maybe not every parent, but those of us with a normal, adult vocabulary)... can relate to this particular dilemma.

You have this sweet, innocent, tiny little baby, and it's all love and coos and cuteness (and diapers and spit-up and insomnia, but whatevs). And then one day you hit that milestone where your child starts speaking. Incoherent babble at first. But then, slowly, words start forming. Sense starts being made. You finally can communicate with them!

A breakthrough!

And then, just as quickly as the magic begins, it gets ruined. By a tiny little mynah-bird voice sitting in the back of the car when you're sitting in traffic with a particularly bad case of a stupid-driver-induced-mental-breakdown. Or when you stub your pinky toe on the metal corner of the bed frame. Or when you burn yourself cooking. Or when you hit your funny bone, which is NEVER funny!

(I mentioned how clumsy I am, right?)

Anyway, you're in the middle of your semi-crisis situation when the little voice pipes up.

"Sit?"

And no, they aren't giving the dog a command.

"Sit!"

They are repeating what you just said, only in their sweet little baby version.

You tell them not to say that word. But of course, you just said that word. So they give a wry little grin and say it again. And again. They giggle and say it. They frown and say it. They try it on with every emotion and situation they can think of in their sweet little brains.

Meanwhile you're sitting there shaking your head, acknowledging that while you likely weren't in the running in the first place, now you most certainly WILL NOT win Parent Of The Year.

Yeah....

Given that I swear like a sailor on leave, this situation has happened with each of my children. I explain to them that those are mommy and daddy words. I explain to them that they are not allowed to say them until they are grown ups. I explain to them that the word they just used IS NOT an okay descriptor for their sister just because she took the Lego piece they wanted.

But I have accepted the fact that my kids will swear.

And you know what? I'm okay with that.

While I have no patience for people who genuinely lack any other words to use besides curse words, I am not opposed to swearing in a situational or contextual manner. It adds emphasis. And sometimes, there really isn't a better word with which to make your point.

(It also has been proven to relieve pain! Thank you MythBusters!)

In spite of what my mother-in-law says, I do not feel that swearing indicates low IQ. I know several intelligent people (myself included) who also appreciate the satisfying use of an F bomb.

Here's my opinion on swearing, especially around kids-

Don't swear in front of other people's children. Common courtesy.

Don't swear just because you lack any other punctuative words to use or because you're trying to sound cool. Read a book and expand your vocabulary.

And DO NOT, under ANY circumstances, swear at your children or call them names. Ever. That's just Decent Parenting 101.

But it is okay to swear in front of your own children, as long as you explain to them appropriate ages and appropriate places for such language.

And besides, there are waaaaayyy worse things for kids to be exposed to.

After all, I'd much rather my child drop an F bomb in class than a racist or homophobic slur!

But that's just me.

*grumble*grumble*

Okay, so I have a little rant that I need to get off my chest.

So as you know I am in school working on a business degree. Since I have kids and am limited by their schedules at the moment, I am taking my classes online. 

In a lot of ways, it's great. It gives me the flexibility to "go to school" whenever it's convenient for me, be that 8 in the morning or 11:30 at night. It saves me from having to make a hellacious commute. And it especially saves me from having to deal with vacuous 20-year old dingbats named Jessica and their insistence on chewing their gum with their mouths open.

Amirite?!?

Of course I'm right.

We've all been stuck sitting next to "that girl" at some point in time, and you know it takes every ounce of self-restraint not to knock the gum out of her mouth and give her the withering look of death.

'You want to go home and rethink your life....'

ANYHOODLE!!! In spite of all the positive aspects of taking online classes, there is one major drawback that drives me completely bonkers.

All of your interactions with your classmates take place via the school's website, usually through a set of predetermined discussion questions. This means you are forced to read through the dozens of typed responses and reply to a set number of them to 'further the discussion'.

And herein lies the problem. 

People SUCK AT GRAMMAR!!!!!

It drives me freaking bonkers!

I just want to reach through the computer screen and slap 'em around a bit. Where the hell did you go to school?!?

(If their response is Darrington, Sedro-Woolley, or Concrete... well, then, I apologize, you can't help it)

(Kidding, kidding, much love for the Skagit Valley!)

But for everyone else?!? There's no excuse!!!

Their, there, and they're are all separate words with separate meanings!

Two, to, and too. Different.

Weather and whether. Different.

Your and you're. DIFFERENT!!!

 I seriously feel my blood begin to boil every stinking time someone else answers a question and their response is riddled with glaring grammatical errors. Like.... how are you doing well in COLLEGE?!?! These are senior-level classes, for Pete's sake!

Grumblegrumblegrumble

Can you facepalm someone else, or does that constitute abuse?

Just wondering...

Veggie-saurus Rex

I have been a vegetarian for approximately four or five years now, though lately, I must admit, I've been a really lousy veggie-saurus. It's something I have been struggling with since September.

The kids started back to school, my school started shortly thereafter, the holidays snuck up on me, and pretty soon it was macaroni and cheese, pizza, and takeout. There have even been a few trips to McDonald's wedged in there. And today we had Taco Time for lunch....

I know!

It's terrible!

I fully understand how gross and unhealthy it is. I'm one of those people who try and hide their face as they go through the drive thru, and then hide the bags when I get home so my neighbors don't see them and judge me for eating crap.

I figure, if I'm that ashamed of it, I shouldn't be eating it right? Of course right.

But you know what, sometimes life with kids gets a little crazy. Add in full-time school and it gets even crazier. And so I go for what's easy. And what's easiest is usually absolute garbage.

Hence my predicament.

So I'm making a point to get back on the straight and narrow and start eating right again.

See, there are a few reasons why I quit eating meat to begin with.

First of all, because I was tired of feeling lousy all the time. I'd been sick for a few years, and when I cut out meat I suddenly started feeling much better. I had previously tried cutting out dairy, junk food, soda, and sugar, but to no avail. I cut out meat, and BAM, instantly better! Apparently I just don't digest it well?

The second reason is more personal.

Reader's digest version- my dad died of colon cancer when I was 16.

Colon cancer is genetic, but it is also affected largely by diet. In fact it is, to my knowledge, the only cancer that has been directly linked to diet- specifically red meat, processed meats, and anything charred.

So yeah, I probably need to get back on track. Partly so I go back to feeling better (definitely regretting that Taco Time), but mostly to cut my cancer risks and not have it floating around in the back of my mind.

I'm not going to live my life in fear and the 'what ifs', I totally agree with enjoying yourself (within reason).

But I also need to face reality and treat my body better so that I can be here for decades to come. My dad got sick when he was 40. I'm 29. I go in for the colonoscopy later on this year.

Time to put my big girl panties on and face it, methinks.

Anybody want a peanut?

I have a position paper and a PowerPoint presentation to prepare.

Instead, I choose to watch The Princess Bride.

Because it is my favorite movie, possibly of all time.

And because of that whole procrastination thing I've mentioned a time or two...

This time around, the paper and PPT shouldn't be too difficult. I know what topic I want to do it on, and seeing as how many of my business classes are related, I've basically covered this topic in one form or another previously, so I've got a bit of a head start.

Hellew!

That is... if I get around to, you know, actually starting the dang thing.

(Side note: despite the creepy, caterpillar mustache, I've always had a thing for Cary Elwes in this  movie...)

I've been keeping up (ish) with the Couch-to-5k training. Not as much as I should, but better than I gave myself credit for, so that's something. Once the torrential rain and hail and crazy wind gusts move along, I'm looking forward to being able to get outside more. I have a bit of cabin fever, and I'm looking forward to spring like you wouldn't believe. I have a garden to tend to, a yard that needs a mind boggling amount of work, and several hiking trails that are beckoning me.

But for now, my story of "twue wuv" is over, so I guess I should be responsible and get back to that whole responsible student thing.

No, no, as you wish!

Your inferiority complex is showing

So a couple years back when we were looking to buy a new house, we took many variables into consideration. Commute times, school district boundaries, quality of life, house-to-lot ratios, property tax rates, the whole kit and caboodle.

I spent countless hours pouring through Zillow and Redfin listings, saving certain houses into folders on my desktop, comparing amenities, yards, neighborhoods, etc, etc, etc.

(You say OCD? I say thorough...)

The house that we ended up buying was actually stumbled upon by accident. We drove out here to look at a different house, which we didn't end up liking, but while we were in the area we discovered this one. We proceeded to look at a few more listings, but we always came back to this one.

It stuck with us.

We were always told that when you found THE house, you'd know. Well, we knew.

The offer was accepted immediately, we closed (albeit a week late, but whatevs), and the rest is history. Happily ever after, right?

Well, not so much.

You see, even with all of that research, all of the time and effort and thought that was put into our home search, there is one thing you can't plan for.

One big variable.

A huge, glaring, pain in the ass that you can't predict.

Neighbors.

Now, the majority of our neighbors are great. Fun, kind, down to earth people. We have neighborhood barbecues and bonfires and there is even an industrial karaoke machine. Since we live in the middle of nowhere, our neighborhood has largely attracted cool, independent, low-key individuals.

With one exception.

One guard dog owning, high-calibre rifle shooting, neo-Nazi exception.

The neighbors a couple houses up from us are... shall we say... unpleasant? Anti-social? Downright scary?!?

They moved in six or eight months ago, and it's been interesting, to say the least.

The wife is... alright, I guess. Ish. She will half-smile and half-wave. Sometimes.

The kids are... well, hooligans in the making. Let's just say if my house ever gets egged, TP'd, or tagged with spray paint, I know who I'm pointing the finger at first.

But the husband?

Well, he's an ass. He's arrogant. He's a bully. And he's the most inconsiderate neighbor I've ever had. And having lived in a Quadrant Homes neighborhood, that's really saying something!

(Cookie cutter neighborhoods. Amirite?!?)

So this guy decided that it would be the greatest idea ever to install a shooting range in his backyard.

Yes, you read that right. A mother-effing shooting range. And we're not talking bows and arrows, my friends. Oh no. We're talking semi-automatic, high-calibre, military-grade rifles. You know, the kinds used to massacre children, theater-goers, and temple worshipers in the last few months? Yeah, those.

And the worst part? It's legal.

*facepalm*

Because we live in an unincorporated area, dude is technically allowed to shoot whatever the hell he wants on his property.

Never mind the fact that there is a house about a quarter-mile behind his. Never mind the fact that our property sits below his and any errant bullets put us and our children at risk. Never mind the fact that our entire street is a sickle-shaped curve and all of the properties are attached pie-shapes and dude is violating all of our safeties just to satisfy some itch to rapid-fire armor-peircing rounds into the woods.

Yeeeahhhh......

I have to say, it is the most disturbing thing to be sitting here listening to those guns going off.

*pop*

*pop*

*pop*pop*

*popopopopopopopoppopppoppoppopopopopopopopopop*

It makes me want to crawl under my kitchen table and assume the earthquake 'ready' position. I hate it.

And many neighbors (us included) have tried talking to him about how uncomfortable it makes all of us, and how unsafe it is considering the position of his targets in correlation to where the rest of our kids play. But to no avail.

Suffice it to say, I think I see an HOA covenant in our future. And while I hate to be "those people", because we previously lived in a neighborhood with highly restrictive covenants, and because we all moved this far out for a reason (the freedom to do whatever the hell we want), there has to be a line.

I don't care of you want to have chickens and goats in your yard. I don't care of you have raucous bonfires every night. You want to work on your broke-ass truck in your driveway? Have at it, big guy. But I sure as hell care if your hobbies are putting my kids in danger.

Take your machismo to an actual gun range dude.

No one here is impressed.

Klassy

Anyone who has known me for over ten minutes will come to understand that I am, quite possibly, the clumsiest person alive.

It's true.

I'm a total klutz.

Like, epic levels of clumsy.

It's pretty amazing, really. The ways I manage to find to hurt myself are impressive.

And amusing. To others at least.

(Since I'm the one in pain I usually don't see the humor until afterwards...)

But yeah, I have mad skills when it comes to finding new and exciting ways to injure myself. There's the tried and tested methods, like opening mail and getting a nasty paper cut, or walking through a door and swinging my arm up into the doorknob (almost a daily occurrence).

But then there are the head-scratchers. Like hiking up an entire mountain without so much as a wrong step, and then rolling my ankle in the trailhead parking lot, ten feet from my truck. True story.

OR!!! Trying to scare my cat off of the kitchen counter, cutting the corner too close, and running my hip into the corner of the granite at full speed. Yeah. That one dropped me to the floor in pain.

But my greatest achievements? Those come from hurting myself without actually doing anything. Yes, I am just that amazing. I don't even have to be moving to hurt myself. I can be standing still doing something totally mundane and somehow manage to get a paper cut or a bruise or some other source of searing pain.

I'm like magic.

Or a danger to myself.

Whatevs.

So today I find myself with a severely limited range of motion in my neck and right shoulder. (Not convenient when you're right-handed)

See, I have this thing going on with my neck. It's been happening for a few years now, and it started when I'd just randomly wake up in the morning with a blindingly sore, stiff neck, and it could take anywhere from a couple of days to a few weeks to fully go away. Then, more recently, it started happening while I was awake and I became more aware of what was going on. I mean, I still have no clue why it's happening, or what exactly is going wrong, but now I at least know that something in my neck shifts, and I'm guessing it pinches a nerve or something? It's the weirdest feeling, followed by... well, a lot of pain and discomfort. The last time it happened was a couple of months ago while I was jogging (see what I mean, I don't hurt myself with the actual jogging like you'd expect, I screw up my neck instead... it's a gift)

So anyway, it happened again today. And I'd like to say it's from doing something heroic like lifting a car off of a trapped baby or falling from a tree whilst trying to save a kitten, but in reality, I was just brushing my teeth.

Yeah, I'm that special.

Procrastination set in...

I'm supposed to be studying for an HR midterm. But my brain got fuzzy and I'm getting a headache, so I'm taking a breather.

HR is... well, it's alright I guess. Not as dry as I'd expected, though I have a few insufferable brown-nosers in my class that make it slightly painful to deal with. It's a requirement for my degree, so I've just got to muddle through a few more weeks. Then it's on to a few quarters of electives and I'll finally have my Bachelor's! It's taken a bit longer than planned but, hey, at least it's happening.

SO I started the Couch-to-5k training this week!

I know! And my ass muscles are sore to prove it...

Hopefully I actually stick with it, because I think it'll pay off if I do. Bring it on, shorts weather!!!

It's a beautiful, sunny day in the Seattle area today, and I'm a little bitter that I'm stuck inside studying. But my goal is to have my midterm done by tonight and have all weekend to play. Hopefully the weather gets the memo and sticks around a few more days. I'm a little twitchy and could use a good hike. I feel Mt. Pilchuck beckoning me back, but it's way too snowy up there still and I don't want to be another search-and-rescue statistic for that mountain. I think I'll hold off on that one until further into spring. And Age, you're coming with me!

I also have plans to hike the peninsula this summer. I figure since my state has a rainforest, I should at least go and walk through it, eh? I have a lot of hiking plans for this summer. We'll see how many of them come to fruition.

As you can probably tell, I'm getting antsy for spring and summer to come. I want to get outside, work in the yard, play, hike, all that good stuff. Contrary to many people's assumptions of me, I'm not as big of a prissy chick as I appear to be. I love being outdoors.

And yes, you can actually enjoy outside even when you hate insects.

The two are not mutually exclusive.

Amen to that

Glad we cleared that up. Back to studying...

Welcome to the (rural) jungle

I live in a small town.

Not the creepy, seedy, get-jumped-by-a-gang-of-methed-out-12-year-olds kind of small town.

A cute, quaint, homey, historic small town. And I love it. I really do.

Except for one thing... The Mommy Mafia.

Now, the Mommy Mafia does not resemble an actual crime syndicate in any obvious way. They don't talk in muffled, Italian accents. They don't (at least, to my knowledge) bring guns and cannolies with them. There have been no horse heads or toll booth shootouts.

BUT!!!

They will inevitably make you an offer you can't refuse.

Or shouldn't, at least.

Because refusing lands you firmly in the persona non grata category of the elementary school social ladder, which is a precarious place to be.

That is, unless you are like me, and you simply don't care.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not antisocial. I'm not a misanthrope... (well, maybe a little)

I just don't buy into all the drama social crap that goes on in the parenting world. It's nonsense. These women act like they're the ones still in high school, and it would be frustrating if it weren't exceedingly amusing to sit back and watch. There is something both fascinating and sad about a 40-something woman wearing hot pink nail polish and chunky highlights. It's just...wrong.

Even more wrong is that these same women tend to be the ones whose 12-year old daughters walk around in booty shorts and spaghetti-strap tank tops, acting like they're a 22-year old co-ed at Mardi Gras. But that's a whole other matter entirely. Shitty parenting and the sexualization of today's kids is a whole series of blog posts unto themselves.

But I digress...

The Mommy Mafia.

Don't let the picturesque small town fool you. These women mean business. They're just as vicious as the metropolitan socialite mothers, only rather than Bentleys, St. Barth's, and plastic surgery, it's pampered horses, gigantic $80k pickup trucks... and plastic surgery.

And that offer you can't refuse (or risk social peril)?

Taking an official position within the PTA.

Laugh, but I kid you not. Welcome to the seedy underbelly of elementary school.

You've been warned.

Couch to 5k

So I have this friend, Age. She's been my best friend since I was four (minus a brief spell where she chose to be friends with my arch-nemesis Amanda Dilling and the two would gang up on me and steal my shoes whenever I'd come over to play).

Inoright?!? Total douche move.

But we were, like, 11 or so? And all girls are douches at that age.

(Hence why I fear for when my daughter gets older...)

But I digress...

So this friend is kind of the ultimate badass. She's in denial about it, but it's totally true.

She has this platinum-blonde pixie cut (a look I could NEVER pull off), oodles of tattoos, an amazing personality, and drinks fancy-schmancy beer that no one has ever heard of but you feel cooler just because she's heard of it.

She's one of those people.

You know, people who are cool without obviously trying to be so.

People I simultaneously hate and want to be.

So anyway, this friend is also a huge health and fitness fanatic. I mean, it's literally her job, so it's probably good she subscribes to her own advice.

Her. The fitness queen.

She is the only person I know who has rock-hard abs. And I'm pretty sure her leg muscles could cripple me. She is in amazing shape, and she makes it look like it's nothing. (And she isn't one of those scary, overly-muscly, 'roided-out-looking chicks, either. She could break you in half and still look girlie doing it.)

She's also the classic over-acheiver, but again, without really trying.

Like, she works full time, is getting her Master's Degree, and oh yeah, I just totally went for a 30 km bike ride this morning before work, no biggie!

No, really, she does stuff like that. I swear she gets more done before I even get out of bed, than I even do in a day. It's ridiculous. I generally feel like a loser compared to her. Anyone should.

So this friend's one apparent weakness (and I mean, apparent only to her) is running. I guess she feels like it isn't her forte or something, which I don't understand, but whatevs.

So like anything else in her life, she sees a challenge, she overcomes it.

Well, not really overcomes it, more like kicks its sorry ass from here to next Tuesday.

So she is doing this Couch-to-5k training thing. And she wants me to do it with her. And I would love to, because mama needs to get in better shape. I don't really need to lose weight, per se, but I could certainly stand to tone up a bit, especially after three kids. I'd love to be a bad-ass before I turn 30.

But here's the thing.

I am the world's biggest procrastinator. Like, if it were an Olympic sport, I'd be the undefeated, world-record-holding, most medaled champion ever.

Me. The little turtle that could.

So clearly I'm having some troubles getting started. Right now I'm sick, so running isn't going to happen quite yet. Heck, walking is somewhat of a struggle right now. But once I'm better, I'd like to think that I'd start with the training. Because, really, it isn't even that hard of training, and I know that I am in better shape than I give myself credit for (not as good as my friend, but who is?!?).

But let's be realistic. I'm a slacker.

Well, maybe not a slacker, because I have three kids, am a full-time student, and still manage to run a tight ship and keep things somewhat orderly. But in my off time? Total slacker! (remember the Teen Mom 2 marathon...)

So I'll do my best, Age, but you'll need to kick my ass a little lot. Because only one of us can be the self-motivated awesome sauce. Me? I fill the role of the jaunty sidekick.

Stricken

They got me.

I tried to avoid it.

I fought like crazy.

I tried so hard!

But they got me anyway.

It was a three-against-one battle, so the odds weren't in my favor.

But those darn, germy kids got me sick.

So I've been drinking tea like it's going out of style, and tonight I'm making chicken noodle soup for dinner in an attempt to cut this thing as short as possible. I have crap to do, man, and the flu isn't really conducive to reading assignments and case studies and the Teen Mom 2 marathon I have recorded.

(Don't judge)

(Okay, you can judge a little)

(It could be worse, it could be Honey Boo-Boo)

As an aside, I realized with shock and somewhat embarrassment today that I have never made chicken noodle soup from scratch before!

I know!!!

I've made tons of other soups. I love making soup! But for whatever reason I've never made the most iconic soup of all time.

Weird.

BUT! That all changes tonight. I found a recipe that sounds yummy, I got my shopping list ready, and I'm good to go.

Take that, flu virus!

One flu over this cuckoo's nest (well, three)

So as I think I mentioned previously, my kids are sick. The youngest one sounds like a chain-smoking gangster from a Godfather movie, and the older two have fevers, coughs, sore throats, the whole shebang.

Well, it started with my daughter last week, and she hasn't really made much improvement over the past several days, and now that both boys are sick too, I decided to take them all in to the clinic to get them checked out and make sure it wasn't anything more serious. You know, better safe than sorry, all that hoopla.

But here's the thing.

I hate the clinic. With a capital H.

The clinic is, in and of itself, a vector for disease.

You go there with a simple ear infection or whatever, and end up leaving with swine flu, avian flu, appendicitis, an ingrown toenail, and split ends.

It's like the intersection of every single illness in your entire county.

In short, it's just gross.

But what do you do? Avoid it and risk your kids getting worse? It becomes a calculated risk. Severity of current illness + odds of catching something new/worse + risk of current illness becoming bad enough to warrant medical attention later on anyway = clinic or no clinic.

Given the severity of this year's flu season, the ages of my children, and my propensity for hypochondriac-ism for said children... well, I decided it was worth it.

And it wasn't that bad. We were in and out in a decent amount of time (and several pumps of hand sanitizer later) with no ridiculous wait times or shuffling between rooms. I think when you make a single appointment for three sick children, they get that you aren't messing around.

I'm a donkey on the edge!

(Shrek quote, go with it)

So my kids have the flu. Mildly so far, and their lungs are clear, which relieved a lot of my panic when the word influenza was initially uttered. Bed rest, fluids, lots of Disney movies and boredom.

But now I'm on the lookout for swine flu, pneumonia, sinus infections, and especially those damned ingrown toenails. Pretty sure they're contagious too, no?

And I already seem to have caught the split ends...

Super Bowled Over

Super Bowl party went well. Turns out, I didn't break it after all!

*whew*

I didn't end up serving the chili, because let's face it, deep-fried man food wins leaps and bounds over anything remotely healthy on The Biggest Football Game Day Ever. But I did serve the crostini, and it was actually quite popular, so one point for chick food!

Plus, the Ravens won, so the homophobic 49ers can SUCK IT!!! (sorry Kelly)

And now we move on to life after football (thank god). Don't get me wrong, I'm okay with football. I'm okay with most sports, in general.

(Except basketball, because I don't understand it)

(And I refuse to watch tennis because it's boring)

(And golf... well, golf isn't really a sport)

I just... well, suffice it to say there is a sense of relief that there will be a space of time that I won't spend my weekend listening to misogynistic, jock-brained announcers who always seem to speak in some version of a yell.

At least, until baseball starts.

(GO MARINERS!!!)

So what does post-football life entail for yours truly? Well, in summary, all the same things as it did before.

Minus the TV yelling at me, of course.

Today both older kids are home from school with fevers, and if we manage to get through the day without them killing each other, I'll consider that a success. Little one is sick too, which makes me sad. He sounds like he smokes three packs a day, which is somewhat amusing but mostly disturbing on a two-and-a-half year old. Besides that I have mountains of laundry, a new week's worth of school work, and a sink full of the remnants of Super Bowl dishes.

Yay for Mondays.

I think I'm doing it wrong

Tomorrow we are hosting a Super Bowl party for a bunch of our friends, and while I am excited because it should be fun, I'm also somewhat irrationally nervous.

"But why Sarah, it's just a Super Bowl party, what's to be worried about?", you may ask.

Because I've never hosted a Super Bowl party, for one. I've only ever been the guest.

And for two, because I'm not sure how to... Super Bowl.

(Yes, I made it a verb. Go with it.)

I'm a chick. I watch the Super Bowl for the commercials. The little men in the tight pants running around jumping on each other? Superfluous, in my opinion.

(Sorry, bro)

Clearly, I'm missing some enigmatic plot point or something, because my idea of Super Bowl food is crudités and other assorted light appetizers, followed by a fresh, healthy meal.

(Yes, yes, laugh it up)

Our actual menu?

A bunch of artery-clogging crap.

Jalapeño poppers, deep fried mozzarella sticks, cheese fries, pizza, and, of course, enough buffalo chicken wings to feed, well, a football team. There will also be chips and salsa and beer, natch.

Being the stubborn girly-girl that I am, I am insisting on making a vegetarian chili so that we have something with actual substance and nutritive value. I'm also making some sweet and spicy roasted almonds, and a sun dried tomato, garlic, and herb crostini.

Because I couldn't resist chick-i-fying Super Bowl Sunday, the manliest day of the year.

See, this is why I'm concerned. I think I broke the Super Bowl....

What never to say to a stay-at-home mom

This made me smile and I wanted to share it. It's good advice people!

Filler slides and caffeine drips

So on top of being a wife, mother, household financial manager, and overall CEO of my family (sorry hubby, but I'm totally taking credit here!), I'm also a student. I initially attended college straight out of high school, because that was what you are supposed to do, but I never really knew what I wanted to do when I grew up.

I considered many things- psychology, social work, forensics, history- but nothing ever stuck for one reason or another. So after my husband and I got married, I quit school for awhile and began trying to figure out what the hell interested me enough to spend the rest of my life doing...

...and suffice it to say, it took a few years before I started figuring it out.

Through various means, I learned that I am passionate about environmental stewardship, human rights, politics, and trying to help people and make the world even slightly better in some way, shape, or form. From this, I looked into degree programs that were specific enough to actually get me a job, but generic enough to apply to more than one narrow field.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Currently, I am in my last year of study before I will have (finally) earned my Bachelor's degree, and I'm totally stoked! Granted, it has not been without some sacrifices, lost sleep, struggling to maintain some semblance of balance and order in my life, and buckets and buckets of stress (and an IV drip of black tea), but I'm almost there, and it feels great.

My main driving force is two-fold. One, I need something to fall back on, a way to make my own income, be self-sufficient, and contribute financially to my family's needs once my children are older and all in school. And two, I want my kids to be proud of me. I want to show them that you can accomplish things when you set your mind to them, regardless of other people's expectations or opinions. I want them to have the confidence to seek their own path and follow their interests, even if it doesn't fit the standard pattern or timeframe.

Just one thing though....

This is all well and good and all, but there is one hurdle standing in the way of actually accomplishing this goal.

And that is PowerPoint.

You see, as I progress through my degree program, more and more classes require PowerPoint presentations.

And I really, truly, suck at PowerPoint presentations!

It's not that they are particularly difficult to do- PowerPoint is fairly user-friendly, even for a tech-reject like me.

It's just that, after awhile I run out of things to say.

I mean, really, I don't need 20 slides to describe the necessary competencies of an international manager! I can manage it in 10. And then I'm left with 10 filler slides. And then I remember I'm also supposed to include clip art explanatory graphics. And then I get annoyed.

And that's where you find me today. I have a PowerPoint presentation due this week. I've completed all the necessary research for it, I know what I want and need to say and how I plan on going about it, and I have the basic layout set.

But....

But....

My topic is well and truly covered and I still have half a dozen slides left to fill in order to meet the assignment criteria...

Blergh...

So here I am, with the finish line in sight, and nothing but 10 filler slides holding me back.

*Sigh*