Personal Responsibility and how to avoid it.

Today's subject is a very serious matter.

I have to make goals for myself and actually write them out. This...is....hard. I don't have goals, quite honestly. If being a good mom every day is a goal, then I guess that's my goal, every single day. Except today. Today I overslept. Not really. I set my alarm for 6:00 a.m. and when it went off, I reset it for 6:30 and it failed me. Or I turned it off in my sleep, one of the two. I will blame failure on the part of my phone alarm, though.

Talk about a walk of shame. "Hi...I'm Olivia's mom and I'm a LOSER who is walking her daughter into the office so that I can feel the shame blazing out of your eyes, into my body, for being 40 minutes late." I should have just dropped her off at the curb and taught her a life lesson. Learn to take some personal responsibility for your actions. Why is it you could get up at 6:30 a.m. the entire Thanksgiving vacation after going to bed well after 10:00 p.m. most nights when your normal bedtime is 7:30 p.m., yet today, when you went to bed at 8:00 p.m. last night, you don't even notice it's light out and 7:45 a.m.? Kids.

Anyhoo, back to my goals. I should make one goal losing weight, because the whole reason I started this blog was to talk about me losing weight. Yeeeeah....I fell off that band wagon. I am going to get back on it! I am dedicated! Ok, maybe not so much dedicated as my therapist wants me to write out some goals for homework. 3-6-9-12 month goals. Whoa! Back up that train, lady. That's a whoooole lot of commitment for me. I can make goals like, "I want to finish this bottle of wine before 9:30 p.m." Or, "My goal is to bring down my grocery bill so that I can afford 2 big bottles of wine." Those go on sale for $9-$10 dollars sometimes and it hurts to buy a lot of those big bottles if you're into collecting them, as I am. I can justify it though, because if I buy 6 bottles of wine, I SAVE 10 percent! Uh...yeah...a savings of 10 percent adds up over time, people. Do the math.

Ok...goals. 1. Lose weight. Ugh. 2. Save money on wine. CHECK. 3. Write more on this blog? I write for my own entertainment because I entertain myself. Maybe a few people think it's funny, too. At some point, there might be some serious posts but I usually find humor in bad things as well. Laughing is what has kept me going all these years. If you can't laugh at yourself, it probably means your voice box has been removed.

Good night.

I love Miss Hannigan from the musical Annie

That song she sings, "Little Girls" is what I want to sing when Emma goes into meltdown mode. Here's an excerpt that is particularly fitting for this morning, "Little cheeks, Little teeth. Everything around me is little. If I wring little necks, surely I will get an acquittal."

This morning's meltdown started like this. She wakes up, I show her the super cute tie dyed tshirt that a good friend had brought her from Disneyland to thank us for taking care of their cats and hamsters while they were away. (PS-Hamsters are evil. Yes you are, Myrtle...I don't care what your owners say, you nearly took off my entire finger like it was a vienna sausage.) Emma looks at the shirt and loves it! She's so excited to try it on and wear it. She puts it on. Instant disapproval. It's too long. "It covers up my bottom." "It's supposed to, it's a longer tshirt. It was made like that." Oh no. No, no, no, no. Emma has an issue with a top being longer fitting, like a tunic. Serious issues. "It's a nightgown, I think." "No, Emma, it's not. It's a long tshirt." Thus the meltdown begins.

Sobbing, begging, crying, everything to not wear this horrible, hideous tshirt she was so thrilled about 5 minutes earlier. Yes, I know, I should pick my fights, but she's wearing the shirt because when I get off work, we going over to Miss Jennifer's (the friend) house to say, "Thank you for my shirt. I love it." . The only problem is, Emma is going to refuse to act like she likes it. She has no filter. She isn't going to put on her polite face. She will look Miss Jennifer right in the eye and boldly proclaim what a hideous piece of fabric it is that she was forced to wear!

The best line I hear this morning was, "I can't brush my teeth." "Why, because your shirt is too long?" "No, I can't brush my teeth because I can't stop crying." Oh. My. Gah.

I truly understand why my grandmother would say, "If you keep crying, I'm going to give you a reason to cry." This is why God gives some people the angel baby/child first. It's a trick to keep us pro-creating. Look how sweet and loving this one is! Surely my next one will be, too! Out pops an Emma. Wait! I'm sorry, this was a mistake, I ordered another Olivia. I think this one was delivered to the wrong uterus.

Emma keeps me laughing, though, that's for sure. Her sense of humor is closer to mine and Olivia...well...she has her dad's sense of humor. For those of you who have met her dad, just keep drinking and maybe her stories will get funnier? She gives great hugs, though.

I've attatched a picture, to let you see, the crying continued into the car, on the drive over to the babysitter's and up to the front door. Once she saw all the dogs that were visiting, the crying stopped and she had other important matters to take care of, like getting licked by 2 big dogs and chasing the small one to pet it.

The Devil!

My coworker, Danielle, has lost a lot of weight and looks fabulous. I hate her, btw. We fell off the exercise wagon a few months ago and now we've started back up. I always said, "If ONLY I was on The Biggest Loser or rich and had my own personal trainer, like Jillian, yelling at me to move my arse!

Enter Danielle. Hello?! We make fun of the people in our parking lot doing lunges, remember? You know, those ladies who CAN afford their own personal trainer at the office in the building next to ours? Why did I send Danielle these links to what activities burn how many calories in an hour? Why is she sending numerous copies to print up on MY printer. "Look! We can jump rope at work for 10 minutes a day and burn 15 calories a minute!" So I'll be burning 30 calories.

I just sent her an IM, letting her know our boss just dropped off a box of 6 glazed Dunkin Donuts on my desk. They're not all for me. I'm supposed to share!! Of course, she ran up here to grab the box and take them away. Good thing she has heels on that make noise because I heard her coming and was able to snatch one heavenly, glazed donut as she ripped the box out of my hands.

I'm pretty sure I looked quite like a delicate flower of nature, when I tried to shove the entire donut in my mouth like a starving stray dog, fighing over a piece of kibble, before she could come over and dig it out of my pit bull like jaws. Not really. I took one bite and the look of sadness and pity on her face made me throw the donut in the garbage. "Get it out of the garbage and give it to me. I know you'll dig in there and eat it." O. M. G. AS IF! But then as I swallowed my one bite and returned from washing my hands, I actually thought, "Hey...I didn't think of that...it is MY garbage and it's just papers in there!" So really, it's her fault if anyone walks up here and my head is in the trash can.

How Super Mommies deal with their children.

They don't tell their 4 year old they're going to pull over and let them out of the car to walk when they tell you two days in a row that they hate the new car they're driving in. Super mommies would not even consider that. Super mommies would give their child a sad face and say, "Aww, Mommy is sorry you don't like the new car. What don't you like about it?" They would then have a real discussion on the likes and dislikes of the car by the 4 year old and explain how lucky and blessed they are to even have a vehicle.

This Mother of the Year pulls the car over and tells their 4 year old that they are more than welcome to walk and follow the hated car to their day care providers house if their evil mother hears it just one. more. time, about how much they hate their new car...

Put one sassy pants 4 year old and one hormone raging mother who can't believe she has a child who is JUST LIKE HER, together, and that's what you get. She's always happy to push my buttons and always happy to see me when I pick her up. She's my little grumpy pants, even when I want to kick her out of the car.

We're all good now. Tomorrow is another day, though.