Oh-my-goodness-this-is-so-stressful

 

I refuse to get excited by the fact that we are ahead by 12 points.

10 points.

There are too many guys with 3 fouls.

I am so stressed.

I feel like puking.

9 points.

8 points.

I need a distraction.

I think I’ll chat Rachel.

Oh good.  She’s chatting me back.

I really am going to puke.

4 minutes.

I can’t get excited.  I just can’t. 

Um, God?  How do you feel about being a KSU fan tonight?  Please?  I’d really, really love to call and harass my dad and brother.  Can’t you sit back in your big, comfy chair with some chips and dip and cheer the Wildcats? 

7 points.

3 minutes, 21 seconds.

3 minutes, 7 seconds.

Rachel is being so nice to me as I emotionally purge my stress/excitement to her.  She’s trying to watch last night’s American Idol, and I keep interrupting her.  What a true friend.

11 points.

10 points.

I’m going to puke. 

12 points.

I can’t stand it.  I really can’t stand it. 

2 minutes, 36 seconds. 

9 points.

Hurry up already. 

I.am.going.to.have.a.heart.attack.

If we win, I’m going to scream and yell and wake up my kids.

If we lose, I’m going to do the same thing.

How long can this game last???????????

2 minutes, 8 seconds.

11 points.

pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease win this. 

12 points.

wehavetowinthisgame.

10 points.

I can’t stand it.  I really can’t stand it.

time out.  IS THAT REALLY NECESSARY??????????

7 points.

I’m sweating.

1 minute 3 seconds.

I’m shaking.

Oh, I wish I were in Manhattan.  I would start swaying and singing the Alma Mater, only I don’t know many of the words.  I just remember the “Hail!  Hail!  Hail!” part.

I know the fight song, though.

45 seconds.

We’re going to win this.

We really are.

I think I might cry.

I think I might try a cartwheel.

Er…perhaps a somersault would be safer.

I think I could at least do a backwards one.

I AM SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

40.5 SECONDS.

WOO-HOO!!!

I LOVE YOU, K STATE!!!! 

I LOVE YOU!  I LOVE YOU!  I LOVE YOU!

10 points.

Take THAT you chickenhawks!!!

26 seconds.

I just got my phone.  I can’t WAIT to call my dad and brother.

Matt just told me to be nice.

Not a chance.

Tomorrow I’m wearing purple from head to toe. 

Fight, you K-State Wildcats
For Alma Mater fight-fight-fight!
Glory in the combat
For the purple and the white.

Faithful to our colors
We will ever be,
Fighting ever fighting for a
Wildcat victory!

Go State!

I love my Wildcats.

mission…attempted

Well, we made a valiant attempt to go see Obama today in El Dorado.  I picked Amélie up early from preschool.  I drove through blowing snow.  We parked eternally far away.  We stood outside in a forever long line in -2 degree windchill.  Jack was freezing cold and sobbing.  Amélie was freezing but was being such a trooper.  I felt like an abusive mom for subjecting my kids to such brutal cold, but I was stubbornly determined to see him.  Finally, the kind people in line with us, who had been nicely wrapping Jack’s blanket around his legs and keeping his ears tucked into his hood, recommended that I wait in the library and that they would hold my place in line.  A few minutes later, though, they closed the gym, and then people bolted for the overflow.  We joined the stampeding throng, but all the running scared Amélie, and I knew that as we limped along we were no competition for those childless Obama fans who were scaling and jumping over walls.  We just couldn’t compete.  Finally, we conceded defeat and retreated to the Student Union where we warmed up with hot cocoa (bought for us by some other kind people–I had left my wallet in the car!) and watched Obama’s address stretched out on comfy chairs. 
So it wasn’t what I expected.  It wasn’t what I wanted to happen.  But I tried.  We still got to hear him speak.  And I’m still planning on standing in another line to caucus for him in a week and then again to vote for him in November. 

 Oh, Matt didn’t make it to the event, either.  He passed by some illegal Mexicans trudging through the cruel cold and blowing snow trying to make it to New York City, so he took them to lunch instead. 

I’m excited! I’m so, so excited!!!!!

He’s coming to El Dorado.  On Tuesday!  Woo-hoo!!!!!! 

Had a beautiful and lovely weekend with Megan.
She knows my heart.
She quenches my soul’s thirst. 
She is Home.

Car troubles

Today I am supposed to drive to Kansas City to pick Megan up from the airport.

My car is in the shop.

It’s been there since yesterday.  The anti-lock brake light has been coming on, and the heater only works on high.  I thought those glitches should be checked before making the 3-hour trek.

Yesterday they said they would get it done.

They didn’t.

Last night the owner said he would check it before he went home.

He didn’t.

This morning he said he would get to it within the hour.

Matt kindly suggested he take a look at it.  Right now.

Now I’m waiting.

I don’t wait well. 

I don’t roll with the punches.

I am not at all flexible.

I want it fixed.

I want it fixed NOW.

Megan, if you read this (and I hope you don’t–at least until after this mess is over), I’m going to pick you up this afternoon.  Somehow…..

Where do you fit?

Check this out:
http://www.electoralcompass.com/

I’m closest to Obama and furthest from Thompson.  Where do you fit on the electoral compass?

Thanks to Becki for sending it to me.  ;) 
 

More Misc.

A few more notes on the sexism issue.  I completely agree with Megan’s take on the sexism of forcing prisoners to wear a pink jumpsuit, and I absolutely loved the Gloria Steinem quote.  (I have a lot more to say about that quote, but I may have to save it for another blog entry, b/c I only have Jack’s nap time to write this one, and I have a lot more to say!)  The most shocking sentence of the article was the second sentence, which claims that for some, being forced to wear a pink jumpsuit “represents the ultimate humiliation as the final shred of dignity is stripped away.”  So, looking “girly” represents “ultimate humiliation” and the shredding of dignity???  How is this not sexist?  Here’s a case in point of how our society doesn’t even think twice about many of our sexist attitudes.  This morning I was watching the news, playing with Jack, and reading my new issue of Parenting (now that’s a snapshot of parental multitasking!).  The magazine always includes readers’ responses to questions that they ask, and this month’s question was “What do you let your kids do that you’d never tell your husband?”  This quote stopped me in my tracks: “He’ll never know that when he was deployed, our son had a baby doll with a matching car seat.  We got rid of it before he came home!”  Wow.  So what did that teach her son?  It sends her son a lot of messages, but it boils down to this: it’s not OK to act like a girl.  If this woman’s daughter had played with trucks while her husband was deployed, would she have gotten rid of them?  Of course not.  Why?  Because it’s not shameful for a girl to play with boy toys, but it is shameful for a boy to play with girl toys.  Now, this doesn’t mean that I am fundamentally against allowing kids to play with toys that fit traditional gender stereotypes.  The truth is, I’m a girly girl.  And despite the fact that Amélie likes to get dirty and absolutely loves bugs, most days you will find her playing with her babies and dressing up and pretending like she’s Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana.  I don’t know where Jack’s interests will lie.  Right now he loves his cars and balls, but he also loves to affectionately chew on the cheeks of Amélie’s dolls, (much to her chagrin–”No, no, Jack!  You’re hurting my baby!!!”). 
I just want to allow my children to be who they were created to be, and that includes not sticking them into a gender box.  And if Jack (God forbid!!!!) ends up in a jail someday, I want him to change his behavior because it’s the right thing to do, not because if he goes back to jail he’ll have to wear a pink jumpsuit.

Now, I’m going to hop from a feminist soapbox to a spiritual one.

Hop.

The other day I was reading James.  For almost the past 2 years I’ve been reading through The Message, and I’ve been so inspired, encouraged, and challenged by drinking in this fresh take on Scripture.  I’ve spent a lot of time this week thinking about this verse in James 1: “Real religion, the kind that passes muster before God the Father, is this: Reach out to the homeless and loveless in their plight, and guard against corruption from the godless world.”  I think many Christians often latch on to the last half of this verse (sometimes to the extreme, in my opinion), so I’m not going to focus on that, although it certainly deserves its own space to write and think about.  It was the first half of the verse that struck me.  Now as a bleeding heart liberal and proponent of social justice, of course I’m going to like this verse.  But wow.  This is heavy stuff.  Reach out to the homeless and the loveless.  Do we as believers do this?  Do I do this?  Not really.  But this, according to James, is the definition of real religion.  Real.  As opposed to the fake, stuffy, three-piece suit, better than thou kind.  So where does that charge leave me?  It leaves me lacking, that’s for sure.  I know this sounds like an excuse, but I’m not sure what to do.  I need some help here.  How do you practice “real religion”?  I have been (half-heartedly) looking for a place to volunteer.  I’d love to volunteer someplace where I can bring my kids, because I’d like to teach them what this “real religion” looks like.  Any ideas? 

I have so much I wanted to communicate in this blog entry, but my post seems a bit muddled.  Tom and Jerry is playing in the background and the list of things I should be doing instead of sitting here writing is playing in my head.  Maybe I will have more clarity later, but for now….here are my passionate, albeit jumbled, thoughts.

Hey–I’m still taking votes on the Zune versus the Ipod, still collecting workout playlists, and still wondering if anyone wants to participate in my homemade non-toxic cleaning party.  Also, I’ll definitely respond to the book tag, Paul! 

Misc.

To respond to the last blog entry…

I still haven’t decided on the mp3 player.  I think I’m going to go w/ the Zune, though.  Any additional suggestions, as well as any more workout tune ideas, will still be gladly taken into consideration. 

We made the dirt, and it was great.  Amélie and I had such fun making it, and the finished product looked so cute!  I wish I would have taken a picture.  With gummy worms sticking up out of the “dirt” and a bunch of bright flowers sprouting out of the flower pot, it was very convincing–and very tasty.  Thankfully there were some leftovers!

My vote on the pink jumpsuits is that it’s definitely sexist.  When I first saw the segment, I e-mailed a friend and asked her opinion.  Here was my e-mail:
so…when i watched this, i was offended, b/c it seemed incredibly sexist.  i know, i know…guys just don’t usually wear pink, and i’m not buying matt pink underwear or anything, but still, it seemed really sexist to me, b/c it was obviously implied that pink = girly = less than manly = just plain less than. 
am i being overly sensitive?
And here was her response (I’m not including her name since I am reprinting this without her permission )
YES. it is sexist. there is a reason the guy didn’t choose lavender or pale yellow. granted, we as a society have allowed pink to become the “female” color, but at the same time it has a powerful connotation.  just like the swastika does. to use the connotation of pink to punish men is saying “you’re almost as bad as women”.

<change of subject>
I posted before Christmas asking if anyone was interested in coming over and making some non-toxic cleaning products.  I’d like to plan this sometime in late January or early February.  I need a little bit of time to make sure I can get all of the ingredients and supplies, since some of them, like squirt bottles, may need to be ordered.  I just need to know who would for sure be interested in coming, when would be a good time (I was thinking a Sunday?), and what products you would be interested in making.  Here are some suggestions:
Air freshener
All-purpose cleaner
Antiseptic soap spray
Floor cleaner
Furniture polish
Glass cleaner
Kitchen cleanser (kinda like Comet only non-toxic)
Stain and spot remover (for laundry, upholstery, and carpets)
Toilet bowl cleaner
Tub and tile cleaner
I’m also open to suggestions.  I’ve got a couple of books I’m using (Clean House, Clean Planet and Clean: The Humble Art of Zen Cleansing), and they have recipes for just about everything that may need to be cleaned.

Well, Jack’s up.  So that’s that.  I’m going to feed him and then overdose on some serious caffeine. 
 

Your Vote Counts!

No, this is not a post urging you to vote in your own upcoming caucus/primary (although I would encourage you to do so).  I just have some questions…need some answers…and figured my blogging friends would be good people to ask.  So, here are some of my questions.  Feel free to answer any, all, or none of them. 

ipod or zune?
I am going to use some Christmas money (and borrow against upcoming birthday money) to buy myself an mp3 player.  Last night at the gym I tried using Matt’s, but he had no music that I liked.  Well, I liked 3 songs: 2 of them were OK Go (“Don’t Ask Me” fit my angsty mood, so that was a good one), and then “Take Me Back to Your House” by Basement Jaxx.  I listened to those over and over again until, when I was again trying to maneuver my way back to OK Go I somehow flung the whole thing onto the floor in front of my workout machine.  That was a little embarrassing.  What was even more embarrassing was that I then started crawling on the floor searching frantically for the little earpiece thing, b/c I knew Matt would kill me if I lost it.  After several minutes of frantic searching I found it…in my ear.  So, I need my own mp3 player.  I must admit I’m a sucker for aesthetics, so I’m pretty much sold either on a cute ipod nano or a cute zune.  So far I haven’t found any other players that are quite snazzy looking enough.  Aside from the cute factor, I like the ipod b/c it’s, well, an ipod, but the Zune has fm radio, which would be handy to help feed my npr addiction when I’m on the go.  Any suggestions?  And while you’re at it, a list of your favorite workout tunes would be greatly appreciated.  

dirt or donuts?
This week Amélie’s preschool class is talking about the letter D.  I signed up to bring a snack that begins with the letter D.  This is difficult, really.  I mean, there are donuts…Doritos…ding dongs…and…hmmmm, I couldn’t think of anything else.  Anything else except dirt.  You know, the oreo cookie and chocolate pudding and Cool Whip and cream cheese kind that you poke gummy worms into and then stick in a flower pot with artificial flowers.  I had this idea a week ago when I got the reminder note that I was in charge of Tuesday’s snack.  I told myself a firm no.  I was going to do something simple like donuts.  Donuts.  Donuts.  Donuts.  But this morning, I caved.  This shouldn’t take too long to make, right?  Right?  Surely I can make dirt while keeping Amélie from eating half of the Oreos (and me from eating the other half) and Jack from tipping the pot onto the floor in a mess of monstrously dirty proportions.  Right?  (I’ll let you know….)  So, should I have bought donuts instead?
(Here’s something completely unrelated to my poll but just plain funny: while we were walking back to the craft section to buy our brightly dyed artificial flowers to stick in the dirt pot Amélie was fingering all of the bras and commenting on their size.  It was so funny!)

funny or sexist?
On Saturday morning I was watching Headline News while rocking Jack to sleep.  I saw the TV version of the following article from the Guardian.  So, is it funny that these guys have to wear pink jumpsuits and sleep on pink sheets and that the walls and bars are painted pink?  Or is it sexist? 

Pink prison makes Texan inmates blush

Dan Glaister in Los Angeles
Wednesday October 11, 2006
The Guardian

For some, it may be a sign that prison life has become too cushy. For others, it represents the ultimate humiliation as the final shred of dignity is stripped away.At a county jail in Texas – maximum capacity four males and one female – inmates are dressed in pink jumpsuits. They sleep on pink sheets and wear pink slippers. Even the walls and the bars of the cells are painted pink.”I wanted to stop reoffenders,” the sheriff of Mason County, Clint Low, told the Associated Press. “They don’t want to wear them. Working inmates get a choice to work outside or sit inside, and some choose to sit inside because they don’t want people to see them. They would rather stay upstairs.”The tactic seems to be working, although it has had an adverse effect on the prison’s policy of using inmates for community labour. “I’m not going outside in these things,” said one inmate at the ageing jail. “It’s a good deterrent because I don’t want to wear them any more.”Another agreed. “The county would have more inmate labour without them,” he said.The policy started last year, shortly after Mr Low took office. While the pink jumpsuits are intended to act as a deterrent and stop inmates returning to jail, the pink walls are intended to calm tempers at the cramped prison.The inspiration came from Joe Arpaio, the man dubbed America’s toughest sheriff for his policy of keeping prisoners in Arizona under canvas in temperatures of up to 54C (130F). Sheriff Arpaio fitted his inmates with pink boxer shorts to stem thefts of prison underwear.

“It’s just an easy step that will hopefully make some progress,” Mr Low said. “That’s not the Holiday Inn they are staying in up there.”

The sheriff said that the reoffending rate was down by 70% since he introduced the pink regime. He added that there have been no fights among inmates since the walls were painted pink.

The tiny jail, built in 1894, is a historical site, and does not have to conform to all the state’s prison guidelines.

Just Random…

I know it’s been over a week since I’ve written!  With Christmas and New Year’s and being out of town and then adjusting to being back in town I’m only just now sitting down to write.  And I shouldn’t be writing.  I should be cleaning my bathroom and putting away Christmas decorations and completing the approximately 10,000 items on my to-do list.  Perhaps Jack will take a long nap this morning and I will get to those things.
Probably not.

In the meantime, here’s what’s new with me:

~~~~~
This morning I called Matt, and as soon as he said “hello,” I informed him through gritted teeth that I was going to lose my temper in approximately 30 seconds.
Well, good morning to you, too.
(He could have said this.  Thankfully, he did not.)
Amélie didn’t want to get out of bed.  Her legs were asleep, she said.  When she finally dragged herself (literally) downstairs, she sat on the rocking chair and wailed.  I don’t want to get up!  I don’t want to go to preschool!  I’m too cold to eat!  I’m too tired to eat!  I want to stay home!  whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. 
Repeat about a hundred times.
Thankfully, I did not lose my temper.  But I came awfully close.  I understand her pain.  I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning either.  When my alarm went off at 5:30 I promptly reset it for 6:00, and even then it was oh-so-painful for me to venture out from under my warm blankets into the chilliness of my home.  It was rather excruciating, actually. 

~~~~~
Sweet Jack wasn’t exactly a boost to my spirits this morning, either.  He is, as many have noted, the happiest baby ever.  There are two exceptions to this rule: 1. when he isn’t be held or played with or otherwise adored and 2. when he eats.  He’s happy as a lark when he nurses, but the boy is an angry eater.  He loves to eat, but he’s mad about it.  This morning, for example, this was my routine:
Jack:
2 bites of incredibly delicious whole milk yogurt that I wished I was eating.
2 bites of apricots
Me:
1 bite of bagel while Jack grunted and hollered angrily that I was not feeding him.
Jack:
2 bites of incredibly delicious whole milk yogurt that I wished I was eating.
2 bites of apricots
Me:
1 bite of egg while Jack grunted and hollered angrily that I was not feeding him.
Jack:
2 bites of incredibly delicious whole milk yogurt that I wished I was eating.
2 bites of apricots
Me:
1 sip of coffee while Jack grunted and hollered angrily that I was not feeding him.
Repeat.

I am aware that this pattern is a bit OCD, but it’s the only way I can make sure I get to eat my breakfast and drink my much-needed coffee.  Otherwise, he eats, I starve and fall asleep b/c I have no fuel streaming into my system and no caffeine coursing through my veins.  It’s a survival tactic, really.

~~~~~
A couple of days ago a news flash appeared on my computer screen informing me that early signs of dementia include forgetfulness and losing things.  I panicked for about 1 second and then remembered that I’m a mother.  Becoming a mother does change your brain in amazing ways (read the book The Mommy Brain: How Motherhood Makes You Smarter if you want proof), but in some ways it makes me crazy, like the fact that I lose things constantly.  A few days ago I couldn’t find my phone.  I looked everywhere.  Yesterday morning Matt found it in his shoe.  Could someone please explain to me why I decided to stick my phone in Matt’s shoe?  

~~~~~
I have thought of many topics to blog about in recent days, but right now all I can think about is my impending dementia and the fact that I need to tackle those 10,000 to-do items before Jack wakes up in approximately 10 minutes. 

Or now.  He’s waking up now.  This cannot be.  It cannot.  Someone please tell me that my baby monitor has been hijacked and that someone else’s baby is waking up from an incredibly short nap rather than my own.