Oh my glory...

Many mothers wouldn't have written this post. They would have hidden this in a box to be brought out when "the one" comes to dinner, or when they have grandkids or when they find the pot or the porn under a mattress. I've considered this post for a month now, even before this blog existed, and I have decided that I have to write about it because Husband and I can't be the only ones that see this. We just can't. It's unfair to...well, humanity. Or, at least, to the one person that may or may not read this blog.

AJ often surprises me with the items he carries home in his bookbag. I have yet to find anything that was once alive, so I'll say that I have thus far been pleasantly surprised with the things he carries. Generally, he is good about showing me the things I need to see and allowing the non-important items to sit in there for a month or so. I'm not an overly hovering mama, but I am still up in his grill, if you know what I mean.

One day, AJ brought home a piece of artwork. I didn't immediately see it as Husband or AJ had put it on the couch to surprise me or send me into early menopause. I was walking through our always messy living room and I saw a stack of papers on the couch that I had been looking for when a bright piece of blue craft foam material caught my eye. There are no delusions of grandeur about my son's talents. He is what he is and what he'll be is up to him. I'll support him and tell him he rocks and he'll rock. I never expected him to be an artist. AJ loves art. He loves to draw and color and paint and I encourage it by getting him a new art set every couple of Christmases so he can nurture that activity. He also loves athletics and video games and I nurture those things, too. Granted, he never brought anything home from those that was quite like this.

On the back of his artwork was a little sign, which makes me believe this art may have actually been hung in his school building. At the thought, I started laughing so hard I was gasping. Not at my baby's talent. He is so, so good. My laughing was at what those poor adults must have implied. When Adrian was asked what he was drawing, according to Husband, he simply replied, "People, Daddy. They're people. That one is standing on his head." We have no idea which one it was. I'll let you judge for yourself.

AJ's art inspired by Keith Haring

Snow in April?

What's going on in my world today. Some of the cool factor is lost in translation due to the loss of HD thanks to youtube, but it's still pretty impressive, nonetheless.

It will not happen, I swear to BeeGees

This will not turn into Jillian's whine and moan weight loss journey. I've been there, done that, bought the tshirt and then turned the tshirt into rags to clean my bathroom. However, this blog is my whiny, narcissistic anger management journal and, by all that is holy and reverent, if I don't get off my weight loss plateau, I am going to explode. I mean it. I will cover this whole house in cellulite and don't think I won't do it.

ONE MONTH. One month of no movement on the scale. It taunts me. I'm at *mumble*.2 pounds. Seriously. *Mumble*.2 pounds for a month. It's the .2 pounds that's taunting me. And now, it's starting to move up. My nutritionist, Fran, has finally given me the go ahead to drop down 200 calories because, frankly, I think she fears the cellulite explosion.

It's not helping. If anything, I think I may gain because of this. I've read the googled sites. They say that I need to "shake up my routine" and exercise more, which is out due to my knee. Eat at different times. Eat more. Eat less. Eat upside down, which is my preferred sleeping position according to Husband since all this started. Eat less carbs. Eat more protein. Hop on one less and shout your grandmother's middle name while tugging on your earlobe.

I'm to the point where I'm wondering if donating blood would get rid of that pesky .2 pounds, at least until it regenerates. I'm trying the eating more thing. The problem is that I'm not hungry. There. I said it. Throw your stones. I don't eat when I'm not hungry anymore. 4 months in and I just don't do it and I'm not going to and sometimes that means that I can go a week at 1,000 calories a day and now that means I'm not losing weight even if I have one day a week where I eat anything I want and can get 2500-3000 calories that day.

Fran and I need to have some one on one time. It's scheduled for the end of the month. Our relationship is suffering. I'm going to jump back on the physical therapy and try to get to where I can do exercise. I have no idea what to do abotu food other than eat when I'm hungry and eat right. I just bought a new scale to show the old one who is boss. It's pretty and glass and the old one is dirty and plastic. Who is in charge now? The only problem? It actually shows me as heavier than Old Faithful.

2 words: Cellulite Explosion.

Bad to the burn

Weekends around here have become all AJ all the time starting this weekend. It was this way during basketball season, but now that baseball is here, and we have TWO games per week, I'm questioning our devotion to our spawn. Weekends are to be fun, relaxing time. What occurred this weekend was neither and we have signed up to do this every week until mid-June? Have we lost our noodle? Let me explain.

AJ's first game, last week, was canceled due to weather. In Nashville, this time of year is highly unpredictable. Last week we had tornado sirens and warnings on Saturday and the ballparks were flooded. There was no way 7-8 year olds were playing in that weather. He was disappointed, but like a good little soldier, he sucked it up and played Nintendo all day. Practice was canceled all week, again, for weather.

However, through some magical power or some serious "soak it up" dust, the fields were ready for a game last night so the kids played. Husband laughed at me as I bundled myself in my heaviest coat and got Pea, our smallest dog, a blanket. The weather was cooling and I forced AJ to wear a shirt under his t-shirt. Under duress, he pulled it on and glared at me like I was forcing him to eat broccoli (which, coincidentally, he can make himself puke to avoid eating).

30 minutes into the game, we were FREEZING. I could see my breath, Husband had his hands in his shirt and Pea was looking at me like she hated me. Pea hates cold. AJ was immune because he loves baseball. The rest of the parents were coping, but I don't think any of us would have minded cutting the game short. AJ's team lost by a lot. They were seriously outplayed.

On the flipside, they got to play again today. Fearing cold, boy do I fear it, I threw a sweatshirt over my black tshirt and loaded up our Weiner dog and went to the field where I proceeded to fry for an hour and a half. 15 hours after the game where I froze, sure enough, I fried like an egg on the sidewalk. I spilled water on the ground and it was gone less than 5 minutes later. I look like a Milano cookie. Half of my body, the side turned toward the sun, is dark and velvety and the other half, turned away from the sun, is as pale as porcelain. I have a feeling I'm going to look funky tomorrow.

I think the real question here is whether or not this is worth it for the times my son wins...like he did today.

I'll get back to you after I'm done blistering.

Oh,and it's supposed to snow on Monday.