Broccoli Crunch Salad

 

originated from LowCarbFriends.com

I wish

... I could look this cool while sitting on my front stoop in 97 degree temperatures whilst nomming on a string cheese stick.

TILTW: 5/19-25

* Lovie is truly learning more and more every single day. I know this, but then there are moments when she really kinda sticks it to us with how vastly she's learning. Like the hashbrown/potatoes incident on Saturday. Or the ease in which she puts her ABC puzzle, which she hasn't touched in months, together. Or the way she totally understood that if she didn't stop screaming when we were in the car the other day (because I wouldn't let her hold the steaming hot personal pizza I got her for dinner), she wouldn't get to watch TV when we got home. (That last one really amazed me. I was tantruming right along with Lovie because she was so loud and then I took in a deep breath and said in a soft, calm voice "If you don't stop screaming, no TV when we get home." And she let out a quick whimper and that was all she wrote!)

* I've eaten low carb since Monday and am down 5 pounds. I didn't think I could do it again (I followed Atkins back in 2004-5 with immense success but then gained it all back and then some- which murdered my gusto at doing it ever again... or so I thought), but I've been struggling internally for a couple months now and I just had to do something. I tried Weight Watchers last year and lost 30 pounds but gained it all back, and eating low carb is so much easier for me than counting calories and figuring out what the points are to foods. Plus, because I have mild diabetes, it's best I stay away from all sugar and ... I just felt so fucking amazing, so alive when I was low carbing. And I so desperately want that feeling back because now I've got my Lovebug to share that energy with. Wish me luck. Please, wish me luck.

* Last night was a bit rough in the Finally household. We've been talking about Lovie giving the binky (pacifier) away for months, but since she only is allowed it at home and in bed, we haven't pushed it much. Yesterday morning, however, she woke and wanted to give her binky to a new baby at her school (a baby of one of her favorite teachers). We put it in a jewelry box and everything. She told daddy she was going to do this and held onto that box all the way to school, proudly telling me how she was going to give the binky to [Baby's name] and "she's going to be sooo happy, Mama."

When we got to school, I told Lovie that I would hold onto the binky until after school since the baby wasn't there yet and when I picked her up, we'd give the binky to the baby. She was cool with this. When I picked her up... the teacher and baby had just left. But Daddy and I decided to go through with it and we met at Target where Lovie spent more than one hour looking at all the toys. 

We left the store with a new toy cash register (which is pretty badass I must say) (the new toy is a reward for being a big girl and giving up the binky). When it was time for bed, Lovie wanted her binky (Rut Roh) and grandmabear. We told her she could have her grandmabear to snuggle, of course, but that the binky was gone because she's such a big girl. Our regular routine went out the window, of course. Lovie wanted her binky (and really, I don't blame her- poor thing).

It took about 45 minutes before she finally fell asleep- but it was done so without the binky. This morning, she woke insanely early and I'm sure it's because there was no binky to nom on and go back to sleep. :(  

I know she can sleep without it because she does it all the time at school and in the car... but it still hurts to see her hurt. I mean, she didn't just cry for it, she literally flopped around with arms flailing, back arched. We remained super calm and quiet and assured her she could do this and that we're super proud of her. I held her (as best as I could) and sang softly to her early on in that 45 minutes. She settled down for a couple minutes but then would get super worked up again. Like I said it took about 45 minutes from the time she was put in bed till she fell asleep. We'll see what this weekend brings, eh? It won't bring her a binky but hopefully it will get easier for her...

Bitches

I always loved school. So much so that it doesn't surprise me much that my very first memory involves walking out of preschool.

Some of the things I loved the most about school was school supply time (paper, pens, markers, pencils, rulers, oh my!), the structure and routine of going to school, and the way I always felt kind of special during the school year. Like I had somewhere to go, something to do.

 

Of course there were many a day when I didn’t want to get out of bed or hated a certain class or a teacher, but overall, I was a big time lover of school. I always got giddy the day before the new school year started and always slept like crap that first week from being too excited about it all. And really, I felt all of this through all my schooling- from Kindergarten to getting my Bachelor’s degree.

One thing I never really cared for, one thing I absolutely do not miss about school... the girls. So much so that I preferred to get pummeled by the boys than hang with the girls. Of course I had some schoolmate pals (couldn’t even really call them “friends”) who were girls, but for the most part girls always annoyed the shit out of me. The way they squeal and giggle and huddle together. The way they go to the bathroom together. The way they wear the same brand of clothing and have no mind of their own. Gross. College girls weren’t as annoying to me- at least not in my experience at a commuter art college (had there been sororities and all that bullshit, I’m sure I’d feel differently).

Early on in my school days, girls just kind of annoyed me. They were just too… girly to me. I enjoyed playing with the boys because they actually did shit other than sit around and talk about painting their nails or whatever it is girls do when they all huddle together on the playground.

In the later days of grammar school and all through high school, girls really started to get under my skin. It wasn’t so much about being too girly then as it was about being little fucking bitches. Yeah, think back… I know you know what I mean. Hell, maybe you were one of them! The darting eyes judging  you from your head to your toes. The whispers and giggles as you walked down the hall. The pointing, the laughing in your face and behind your back- but only done in groups of 2 or more, of course.

Blech.

 

It's because of my experience with girls during all of my school days that I never wanted a girl. Never never never.

 

 

 

And wouldn’t you know it? I have the girliest girl of all! And I love every bit of her and her girliness… but girlfriend best watch out if she ever turns into one those snobby ass bitches that judges and laughs at people who may be different than her.

5.) What about school do you miss the least?

WW: Saturday at the park

not really Mama or Lovie related. well maybe a little.

Last year I got a little personal and told the world (all 5 of you that read this) that I was FAT.

I yammered on about how morbidly fat I am, but how I don't let it define me. While this still holds true today, my grasp on not letting it define me is growing weaker and weaker.

I still absolutely refuse to reveal any of these issues to Lovie. (Just yesterday she wanted to go to the park after school but I had to pee badly so we stopped at a Wendy's. And, of course, once she realized we were in a place with burger and fries she wanted a burger and fries. And I got her some. Because she's TWO. Because eating this shit in moderation IS ABSOLUTELY OK! Even if it's fried. Even if it's not organic. She ate 3/4 of the burger and all her fries, downed her water and barely touched her mini Frosty. And when she was done, we went to the park where she ran around for an hour.)

But, I have GOT to make some changes. I cannot allow my size to define me and I feel myself slipping toward that.

I deserve more. SHE deserves more.

I guess this is more Mama and/or Lovie related than I thought.

Anyway, I'm hoping this confession helps me get back to where I was a year ago. Actually, I'm hoping this confession helps me get back to where I was six years ago before my grandfather passed away when I was at the smallest size I'd been in all my adult life.



Pouring my Heart Out and Linking up with Shell at Things I Can't Say.

Bossy

Earlier last week, Lovie had a black eye when I picked her up from school. I mean, it wasn't a BLACK EYE but it was a black eye; it looked like her eye lid and just below her eye was scratched.

I looked for an incident report in her cubbie to no avail. I wanted to ask one of the teachers about it but, as usual, the place was a friggin zoo (she's still in Toddler room which is supposed to be 18 months to 2 but they're always months behind in moving the kids). So I let it go like I often do when I see marks on her (since she's 2 and all). I asked her what happened and she hadn't a clue. Then I asked her if someone scratched her and she told me,"Laney" (fake name) "did it." (This poor girl gets blamed for everything yet she and Lovie are BFFs!) I let it go.

The next day brought a new scratch and this seemed to be the theme for the week. I trimmed her nails two days in a row in case I didn't trim them good enough the first time. Still, another scratch on her face the next day with no incident report.

Finally when I had a chance to ask about it on Thursday, I did. The teacher (main one) said she didn't know of any incidents. And I figured Lovie would've screamed out if someone was bugging her. So we both told her to be sure to tell Miss Jane (fake name) if someone hits or pushes or scratches or bites her, etc. I don't want her to be a tattle tale but every single day is too much.

Friday when I picked Lovie up, she saw me from across the room and ran to me, like normal. Miss Jane was sitting across the room reading to the kids. She got up and came over to the door to where the cubbies are and looked through them and then proceeded to tell me Lovie had a bad day. She was being very bossy and assertive to the other kids- in the morning especially- and an incident report was written against her.

A part of me was surprised; in the 2+ years we've been going there, we've never encountered a problem where Lovie is the problem child. I'M NOT SAYING SHE'S PERFECT just that I was definitely caught off guard. A little. A bigger part of me wanted to shout, "Well good for her!!" I mean, really, the kid is coming home with scratches and a black eye every single day (the scratches- not the black eye) and the day after I bring it up, all of a sudden, she's the problem child?

I didn't say that, of course. I just looked at Lovie and noted no new scratch marks and asked if she was OK. I mean, I couldn't very well punish her hours after the fact... could I? I don't even know what she did other than "be bossy and assertive" to which I say... SOUNDS LIKE SHE'S TWO TO ME!

I kid. Sort of.

On the way home, she wanted to stop off at the park and "play wid my friends." I debated for a second if I should allow it and then went ahead and stopped at the park. For the second day in a row we were the only ones there. Then another girl, near 4, came with her dad and they, too, played in the sandbox. The girls saw each other but kept to themselves until the 4 year old finally picked up her stuff and plopped down next to Lovie, declaring "I want to play with you."

Lovie looked at her and they sat together and did their sand thing for about half hour.

It was super cute. ISN'T IT SUPER DAMN CUTE?!??

I guess she got all her bossy assertiveness out at school before taking it out on me this morning when she shouted, "NO, I DON'T LIKE JEANS!" as I tried getting her dressed.

Can't wait to hear how her day went today. I hope better, I really do. But not as much as I hope they moved her up to the early preschool room where she belongs with the rest of her peers.

******************************

So I typed this all up and never hit Publish because I didn't finish writing it till just before going to pick Lovie up from school; I figured I'd wait to see what transpired. Well... guess who had another black eye when I picked her up today? Her daddy is not very happy. Miss Jane came up to me to tell me about it first hand, and handed me an incident report. This black eye is worse than last week's (that went completely undetected by anyone). And... I'm kind of pissed. I know this stuff happens- these are young children together all day long. But... after one full week of marks and a second black eye... well, how should I feel? 

Hashbrowns

TILTW: 5/12-5/18

Sometimes the easiest recipes are the tastiest. Maybe not the healthiest, but the tastiest nonetheless. I made a Dump Cake on Saturday to bring over to my mom and grandmother's for our Mother's Day celebration. (My 12 year nephew, 5 year old great niece, 22 year old niece, my BIL, mom, grandmother, and husband all *loved* this. You're welcome.) Its recipe was beyond easy:

* 2 cans pie filling (cherry for us)

* 1 package cake mix (yellow or white, I've been told)

* butter to drizzle

* a pan to dump it all in (I picked up a disposable roasting pan from the Dollar Tree for ... $1, and it was the perfect size)

Preheat your oven to 350, dump the pie filling in the pan (absolutely no need to grease the pan first), shake all the cake mix on top of the filling, drizzle melted butter on top (this gives the cake mix some crunch so the more butter you use, the more crunch; I used a whole stick- that was probably too much), bake till the top gets a little brown... till it looks and smells done (about half an hour). Let cool and serve. Does not need to be refrigerated if there's any left.

*********

While I love going to the park when it's dead empty, my Lovie does not. She loves going to "play wif my friends" (even though she doesn't know any of these "friends" half the time) and if we go and there's nobody else there, she'll want to leave within minutes (which is usually fine by me when it's after work).

*********

I absolutely love watching her interact with kids. The other day, a little boy came up to her and she smiled and said, "Hey, you wanna play in da sand wif me?" And they sat down and played together for a while. She's so rad. It was a fear of mine that she would be too much like me (unsocial)- especially since she's an only child. That's why going the daycare center route has been super beneficial; she's really learned how to socialize from the get go and hopefully this will stick with her for life.

*********

I enjoyed feeling "normal" this week and most of last week and am terrified of next week and the week after. Fortunately I have a doctor's appointment set up for the 29th when I should be deep in my insanity before getting my period. Drugs. Let us all pray for drugs to help me get through half of the month.

Little bastard

When I think back 30 years ago to a time when I was in fourth grade at the nearby Catholic grammar school, one image comes immediately to mind: being socked dead center in my stomach by a boy named Eddy George (falsified name to protect the {not-so} innocent).

Eddy and I were friends. All of us in fourth grade were friends. Well, at least I was friends with all the boys. Funny thing is I don't remember one girl from fourth grade. Color me the definition of Tomboy because I had absolutely no interest in playing jump rope, hop scotch, or with Strawberry Shortcake dolls (this is a lie: I did like Strawberry Shortcake dolls but I couldn't let that be known out on the playground during recess!) with the other girls. Instead, I wanted to pee standing up like the boys (even tried to once or twice, failing miserably of course) and since I couldn't do that, I played tag and catch with them during recess instead.

Eddy and I often hung out at the playground at the park after school, too, until one day when he stopped being cool with me. I'm not even sure exactly when it happened or why exactly, but Eddy started being an asshole. And one day, before going into the school as we all gathered on the playground running around screaming our heads off, Eddy and I got in a little tiff.

I think I pushed him and egged him on, "Go on an hit me, you think you're so tough!"

I'm sure he mentioned something about me being a "Gir-url" and I, am sure, scoffed and cussed him out. And then, with his right hand balled up into a fist, he flexed his right arm and guided it back a bit so that he could eject his fist right into my stomach.

Holy hell did I want to vomit.

I also wanted to cry and did everything I could not to cry. But I'm pretty certain I failed just as miserably at that as I did with trying to stand to pee.

I remember clutching onto my stomach as if it was going to fall out of my body. I remember leaning over so much laying on the ground so that I could see the detail in the black concrete below me. I remember loafers and white socks darting all about me. I remember hearing nothing but the bell ringing just after my seventh grade brother asked me if I was OK and whose ass he needed to go kick. And I vaguely remember making my way up the few concrete steps into the school, avoiding eye contact with everyone and telling the nun teacher that I wasn't feeling well when asked what was going on.

Fourth grade was my last year at that school with Eddy; that was the year my parents decided to split so the next year I would be attending public school with a whole bunch of new faces. That was the year my life changed so drastically that I could never really catch up with it all.

Thinking about all of this made me look up Eddy George on The Google. It brought me to a Linkedin profile. According to that profile, dude owns his own law firm. I then found him on Facebook and again, mention of the Law Offices of Mr. Big Shot. There's a picture of him in his profile: dark haired, kinda short and stocky. I know it's him. It looks just like the 40 year old version of the 9 year year old who punched me in the gut.

Little bastard.

A part of me wants to send him a Facebook message to see if he'd remember me. But what do I say? "Hey! Are you the Eddy George who socked a girl in the gut in 4th grade at [XYZ School] in 1981?"

Ah the good old days.

1.) Share a story from fourth grade. (inspired by Wild Life in the Woods).