Oh, Oh, Oh, it's Magic! Or Just Murphy's Law.

Every time:

As soon as I sit for some computer time, the kids suddenly become either epic-ly bored or epic-ly needy. Of course, epic-ly bored is pretty much the same as epic-ly needy.

*sigh*

It's no mystery why I haven't blogged much, then, is it? 

Take That, Staring Men!

Hi, guys! Wow, I've missed blogging!

But between internet problems, the end of a semester, two kids, and making Christmas presents, it's no wonder I've been absent.

I have had something sticking to my brain that I have to share, though.

When I go to the pool, men stare at me.
Even when I'm with Michael. Like, very obviously WITH Michael.

And, sadly, this is the reaction I've gotten since high school. Men stare at me. So my tactic has always been to ignore them, not give them my attention except for some angry looks.
But you know what? That won't stop them. I've realized that ignoring them simply gives them permission to keep staring.
And that makes me angry.
Like, if I could illustrate how angry it makes me, it would look kind of like this:

Plus some fire.

So upon realizing that ignoring is not the way to go, I determined I would never be so passive again. 

The next time I went to the pool, I was only lucky---no wait, HE was only lucky that Mr. Staring Guy of the Day was on the other side of the window in the gym. As soon as I caught him staring, I sent fiery darts at him, silently snarling my loathing disgust. 

He kept staring. 

And kept staring. 

As I furiously thrust through my laps, I began think-praying. Basically, I was rationalizing to Heavenly Father that it wouldn't be so naughty to flip him off for staring at me. After all, how else would I get the message to him if he wouldn't STOP? I was ready to do it. Guiltlessly. 

But when I came back, he had moved to another machine (from which he could barely peer through the window) (but he was still trying). I thought "Oh...yeah...well Heavenly Father is doing us both a favor, I guess." 

And I grumpily finished my swimming. 

When I recounted this to my papa, he said "I know something you can say next time a guy does that to you."

I listened eagerly. 

IF YOU DON'T STOP STARING AT ME, I'M GONNA KICK YOUR BUTT SO HIGH BETWEEN YOUR SHOULDERS, YOU'LL HAVE TO TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF TO POOP.

Yeah. 

>:D

Now I can't wait to catch some jerk staring...

Plethoric Momly Snappishness

It should probably be a rule that cashiers don't comment on the amount of junk food you buy. But maybe this one couldn't help himself when I showed up at his register with 10 truffle bars, 2 six-packs of Hershey's chocolate bars, and two bags of giant marshmallows. All for adding to the collection of chocolate waiting at home for me already.
PMS has hit me hard this time. A stab in the gut (like miniature contractions), a pounding to the head, and not one ounce of patience left. I'm moody, cranky, hot-tempered, and so tired I've been rendered nearly useless as a mommy. I regained the pound I lost, I grew a beard of zits, and my throat hurts from the number of times I failed at keeping my voice in a reasonable talking range (my excuse? Ender was opera-sobbing so loud he couldn't hear me to even start being comforted...and I was far away trapped on the couch nursing Scarlett) (I still don't feel justified about it). I admitted to Michael that I hate having neighbors on days like this because I'm sure they can hear me...
Arg! And my legs are hairy again! Didn't I shave recently enough?
Being "sick" when you're a mom is so hard. Duties never do end. I mean, the kids live with you, and their kind of living needs more help than I ever thought before I was a mom. Days like today, I feel like all I really can do is make sure they keep living. We're down to basic survival here. Curled up on the couch. Ugh.
The only thing keeping me from hauling out the carton of chocolate ice cream is that I don't want to share.