MEET KAYLA'S FRIENDS

As a mother, one of my most important jobs is eliciting as many eye rolls and exasperated sighs from my children as possible. It is one of the things I will be judged most harshly on when they are grown.



So, when Kayla Beth told me, about six weeks ago that she wanted an ihome for her birthday, I was able to elicit a record number of said eye rolls by continuously referring to it as an idock, ipod home, ipier, iport, ihut, i-abode, iresidence, ihouse, ishelter, ikeeper....



I simply could not remember "ihome." It is after all a really difficult word- two syllables!



So when she got her IHOME for her birthday, not only was she extremely grateful, but she was also quite impressed that we, her technologically impaired parents, were able to buy the correct i-item.

It is interesting to note that when she had four girls spend the night on her birthday, three of them had to bring their own ipods so that they would have plenty of music to play through the night.


Holy ear buds Batman!! How many songs does a girl need?



It is a good thing they all brought their own ipods; otherwise they would have have had to settle for Kayla's 500 or so songs to entertain them, but amongst the four ipods present they had well over TWO THOUSAND songs available for their listening pleasure.

Thank goodness, or the evening would have been a complete failure.


I must admit it was quite surprising that one of the girls left her ipod at home because a teenager leaving home without her ipod would be like me leaving home without my right foot.

Or my right frontal lobe.

Come to think of it, I might have done that once or twice; I can't remember.




Every cell phone, however, was present and accounted for. These girls' cell phones are as different and varied as the girls themselves. Since I did not have permission to post the girls' pictures on this blog (because I didn't want to draw up a contract and print it out in four-plicate) I did the next best thing and had them line their phones up for a group photo. This was probably a better plan, anyway, since a cell phone IS a teenager's identity, is it not?

EMBRACE the cell phone. BE the cell phone. PROTECT the cell phone at all costs.
It is also important to point out that Kayla plopped her cell phone down on the table upon my command "line up your cell phones* girls" - because she obeys really well, that girl of mine - and said "let's line them up worst to best, mine being the worst."

And it was one of the proudest moments of my life, for I strive to deprive my child of all things fun and embarrass her as often as possible. Frankly, she's lucky she doesn't have two tin cans and a really long string. What better way to recycle?

Then one of the other girls, who insists that her cell phone is a bigger piece of junk than Kayla's, ousted my girl's phone right out of the "worst cell phone" spot and plopped her own device right down in the loser's circle, saying "um...mine's the worst."

Her parents can be very proud.

*Kayla's friends - left to right - Shannon, Kayla, Hannah, Becky, Maddie.*

HERE WE GO AGAIN

Evidently it's not enough that our government sees fit to admit chubby-cheeked red headed toddlers into the military; but they now think it's acceptable to give their baby sisters learner's permits and teach them to drive.





Seriously people - enough is enough!

*Kayla Beth - first birthday*

IMPOSSIBLE

Paul was cleaning out one of our storage closets the other day.

He came across a picture of Blake that was taken... oh...I don't know...last week, and I just have to ask: Can anybody tell me how this little boy could possibly be ready to join the Marines in a year?





Anybody?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

NEW LOVE

On April 18, 1994, my husband fell in love with another woman.

I was helpless to stop it and it was really quite pathetic to watch. He jumped through all sorts of hoops for this new female in his life. Every time their eyes met he turned into this puddle of goo. He called her all sorts of sugary sweet nicknames like princess and sweet pea.

He even had the nerve to talk to me about his future with her.

The first time I saw them together, my heart did a flip flop and all I could do was sit back and weep.

With joy.







Because I totally understood.

Happy 15th birthday Kayla Beth. You are our world.

NOT TO BE OUTDONE...

One of Kayla's friends was surprised with a trip to New York City for Spring Break.

Her parents woke her and her brother up REEEEEEAAAAAL early and drove them to the airport and didn't even tell them ahead of time.

How cool is that?

Well, being the kind of parent that can't stand to be outdone by another mom, I decided to surprise Kayla with our very own special spring break trip today.

We took her to EUREKA!!!! Illinois to walk through the Ronald Reagan library!!

I know.

What more can a teenage girl want? We were lucky enough to catch her euphoric reaction to this fantastic surprise:

I think that is supposed to be a "gun to the head" expression.

HMMMM. I can't imagine why.

She did, however, do a happy dance when we said that yes, we'd probably find a mall to stop at on the way home. She did an even HAPPIER happy dance when we were able to find a new dress for her to wear to my cousin's wedding next month.

Okay, not really on the happy dance or the HAPPIER happy dance, but she did manage to smile.

Actually, it was a really fun day with our girl. We explored a couple of little towns, had lunch at a nice little diner and managed to only use the credit card one time - which caused Paul to do a happy dance.

At the end of our day, as we were headed to the car, I told her how much I'd enjoyed my time with her. I said "thanks for spending one of your spring break days with your old mom and dad."

Her response?

"Don't Expect this when I'm in college."

HMMMM. I can't imagine why.

SOMETHING JUST ISN'T RIGHT...

Since it is the first day of Spring Break, Kayla and I decided to grab our sunglasses and shorts, slather on a little sunscreen and sit on the patio to enjoy the GLORIOUS spring weather:






Bwahahahahahahaha. Oh my, I crack myself up.


In reality, we bundled up in our winter clothes - Kayla even had to put on SOCKS and leave her flip flops in the closet - and went to Wal-Mart, where we bought the newest copies of People and In Touch Weekly, and a couple of spring tops and dresses (not that we can wear them any time soon). Then we picked up some Chinese food and brought it home so we could catch up on all the celebrity gossip as we ate lunch.

I have baked a batch of cookies and am getting ready to start a pot of chili.

You know. Those things you do when you're stuck inside on a cold winter day and there is snow on the ground.

In April.

Thankfully softball practice was cancelled today but the coach said to dress warm tomorrow.

As for me, I can't decide if I should wear shorts or capris...

MY CHOICE

We are one step closer to watching our son become a member of the Armed Services - not the Marines.

The Marine recruiter did not show up. When Blake called him, an hour before our appointment to give him directions to our house, he said he couldn't make it.

Nice.

Now Blake is talking to an Army recruiter. Blake is ready to make a commitment.

Now before any of you tell me that you think he should go to college first, or he should choose another branch, or that he shouldn't even consider the military at all, let me just say, I don't want to hear it. We've had very few responses to Blake's plan that did NOT include some disparagement about his choice, and frankly, I'm tired of it.

I won't get on my soapbox about these comments (yet) other than to say I know people don't mean to be rude, but they are still a little hurtful.

I've decided that, with regards to Blake's plan to join the military, I can react in one of two ways.

First, I can send Blake off into the world with a sense that he's let me down. I can react negatively to his plans to the point of making his heart heavy with a feeling that he didn't live up to my expectations. I can send my son off into the world to pursue his dreams, knowing that his mother doesn't approve, causing him to live under that heavy cloud all of his life.

Or, I can be certain that Blake is a mature young man who knows his own heart and is excited about his future. I can let him know that I will put my fears aside and support him and encourage him in his choice. I can send him off into his first steps toward adulthood without the slightest taint on our relationship. I can send him off with the knowledge that his mother is proud of him, that he has not let me down, that he has exceeded my wildest dreams as to the person he has become. When I say goodbye to my son as he leaves to start his life outside of the protection of our home, I want to know that there is no shadow of doubt following him. I want him to know that we, his parents, are behind him all the way.

I choose the latter.

I will not risk my relationship with my son because I can't come to terms with his career choice.

And so I have come to terms with his career choice. And I am proud of him.

I do not look forward to the next phase in my parenting journey. I don't look forward to that day, fourteen months from now, when we will see him off to the unknown. But I wouldn't be looking forward to it if he was going off to college, either.

And yet, as I read a devotional book recently, I came across these thoughts on parenting:

This notion that our children are ours - where did we get that idea? The truth is, my children have never been mine. Not ever. No, the truth is, they are children of God Almighty and they've belonged to Him all along. He gave them to [us] to nurture for a while, but their ambitions, hopes and dreams are theirs, and only theirs to know. And as we do our best to ready them for a difficult world, we pray for them and give them our love, and finally we give them the most important gift of all - our blessing to go it on their own.
Rick Rusaw

Enough said.

MORE GROWING PAINS

Tonight I have an appointment with a Marine recruiter.

I had read that they were having trouble meeting their quota of overweight middle aged housewives so, for love of country, I decided to enlist.

I'm going to paint my helmet mauve.

Actually, Blake has been meeting with this recruiter for quite some time so Paul and I told Blake that we wanted to meet with him ourselves before we gave our final okay on Blake's plan to enlist.

I asked Blake if Sergeant Gibson has seen combat. Has he been deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan?

He said yes, yes he had.

And I said that was good because then he might be somewhat prepared for me. My goal is to make the recruiter cry.

Oh! I kid.

My friend told me to act real crazy while he's here, then they won't want Blake. I said that wouldn't work because they would feel the need to rescue him. You know, that "never leave a man behind" business.

Blah, blah, blah.

So I decided I'm going to tease my hair real big and put on lots of black eyeliner. Then I'm going to greet him at the door in my Daisy Dukes and clear stiletto heels, smacking my chewing gum, while waving a cigarette around as I talked.

Hi. I'm Bubbles. I can't stay long because I'm working a double shift at the biker bar tonight. But, my oh my, aren't you a big strapping young man. *wink, wink*

Oh, stop. That's not true either.

I did, however, warn Blake that I probably would embarrass him because I intend to serve up a plate of homemade cookies and a pitcher of lemonade. Because that's the kind of thing we do in this house when we have a guest (even if that guest IS trying to steal my baby boy away from me.)

You wouldn't believe how that kind of thing embarrasses a teenage boy. You know - hospitality.

But he said that would be fine and he wouldn't be embarrassed. He said he already "warned" Sergeant Gibson that his mom could easily be the president of Mothers of America (whatever that means) which I think was a reference to the fact that Blake thinks I've approached this parenting job with a, well, um...ferocity? But that's okay. I think it's okay for a Marine to be a little bit afraid of me.

Moms? Can I get an Amen on that?

So I need to get busy jotting down my questions for Sergeant Gibson.

My first one? "Will the United States Marine Corps provide a cot for ME or should I bring my own sleeping bag?" Oh. and "Should I bring a lawn chair to sit in while I watch Blake in PT?" And finally, "Do they have a special menu for moms?"

See, Blake has nothing to worry about tonight.

KEEPING UP WITH THE JONES'

The W house finally got a satellite dish and somebody's not too happy about her role in making sure we have 600 channels.....







Look, Cookie, I'm sorry you're humiliated. But if you'd stop eating away the flesh on your legs we wouldn't have to do this. Maybe that Benadryl the vet suggested will help.

Until then please make sure your head is always facing southeast.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

This is my daughter.


Isn't she lovely? When she was a baby, she looked like me. Now, though, she looks like her dad and his sister. But see that dimple? It's just like mine. So, anyway, in about 13 months, she will get to start dating and, like all proud mamas, I imagine we'll have a few boys knocking at our door wanting to spend time with her. And that's fine with me.


Because this is what will be waiting for them once that door is opened:






Welcome to the gun show fellas.


Sorry Kayla.

LIFE IS GOOD

One of my favorite books is O Rugged Land of Gold by Martha Martin.

It is the true story of a woman who, in the early 1950's, is stranded on an Alaskan island for an entire winter.

She is stranded alone, in a little cabin, because her husband left on a fishing trip and a severe storm set in, making it impossible for him to return for her.

She actually gave birth on the island.

Alone.

With no epidural.

Without her husband. She couldn't squeeze his hand. She couldn't threaten him with things like "You will NOT touch me again!" She didn't get to eat green jell-o after she gave birth and send the baby to the nursery for the nurses to tend to.

All of you should try to read this book. It is truly inspiring.


The reason I am thinking about this story today is that I can totally relate to this brave woman right now.

See, Blake's car wouldn't start this morning.

So he took Paul's Jeep to school and Paul took my van for the day.

I'm stranded here, people.

I'm stranded in my suburban home with central heat and air, a pantry full of food (including chocolate and coffee) one cat, and a dog who is trying her best to chew her front paws clean off.

All I have to look forward to is lunch tomorrow with my dear friend, a weekend with my sweet husband and two healthy kids, sleeping late in my clean bed Saturday morning, eating Chinese food sometime in the next few days, and attending church services on Sunday morning.

There is nothing to occupy my time except a tiny little computer, another historical novel, and a book about London which I'm supposed to be reading so we can plan our upcoming trip. I might have to do a few loads of laundry before I prepare a sparse supper of chicken casserole, green beans and Sister Schubert's rolls.

The weather is dreadful. While the wind is quite chilly, the sun is shining and a few daffodils have bloomed in the front flower bed. Every now and then I watch the Canadian geese fly over our house. And, lately, I've been visited by a few pairs of mallards who have taken to waddling through the yard, perhaps looking for a suitable nest.

Conditions here are truly harsh.

Yeah, I can relate.

WEARY

I have just returned from a visitation.

To protect the privacy of the grieving family, I will not write my feelings tonight. Of course, I am too tired to write anything but this one thought anyway:

With every ounce of my being, I wish there would never again be the need for such a tiny casket.

Sadly, I do not believe my wish will come true.

THE DING DONG DITCH...

But first, a Facebook thingee update.

We had dinner with my BFF and her husband last night. She once again pointed out to me that I need a Facebook account. And I got all excited and said "OH! I've been thinking. I'll open a facebook account, if YOU will open a Google account so you can comment on my blog 'cause your comments will be so funny."

And she was all like "I don't know how to comment" and I was all like "Well I don't know how to do Facebook." And she was all like "Okay, I'll do it." And I was all like "YAY!"

Notice how I was unwilling to do something for my friend without first being assured that she would do something for me in return.

Yeah, I'm like that - I try to never, never, never, never give anything without getting something in return. That's my motto "NEVER GIVE WITHOUT GETTIN'."

In other news....

We were Ding Dong Ditched on Thursday night.

Now I can picture my BFF holding up two fingers to tell me this will be the second time she's heard that story*

So anyway. We got Ding Dong Ditched on Thursday night. Ding Dong Ditching is when a hooligan rings your doorbell late at night and then runs away.

I know.

It's great fun to be the Ding Dong Ditchee.

So this happened at about 11:45 Thursday night. Now, since we are very lax parents who have no values at all, we had given Blake permission to go to a midnight movie; he had left 30 minutes before our little wake-up call. So when somebody started pounding on our door and the dog started barking her "Somebody's on the porch!" bark, my heart squeezed into a tiny little ball because I was afraid it was a police officer telling me there had been an accident.

Of course when we got downstairs, there was nobody at the door. Paul went outside to make sure the mustang and Cody's truck were locked. Well the truck wasn't locked, so Paul locked it, prompting Cody to have to wake his dad in the middle of the night, when they returned from the movie, to come unlock the truck because he had left the keys in it. Paul had checked to see if the keys were in it but couldn't find them. That's probably because they were IN THE IGNITION!! And Paul didn't think to look there. So last night, I couldn't help but ask Cody if it wouldn't be easier for him to put a big ole sign on his truck that says "STEAL ME."

No, my kids aren't embarrassed by my sarcasm to their friends. They are used to it. Besides it builds character.

Plus we have good snacks, so the kids just can't stay away.

Anyway, while Paul was out locking the cars, our next door neighbor was also out looking for the Ding Dong Ditchers because they had been DDD'd too. We also noticed that our other neighbors had been out for a while, and then I got really mad, because they,our across-the-street neighbors, are a retired couple and should just be left alone. If our house is targeted because we have high school kids, then I can live with that. If some girls want to draw little hearts all over Blake's car windows in the middle of the night (hypothetically of course) or if the adolescent boys who live a block over want to play a joke on us because Kayla lives here I can live with that. I much prefer it be on a Summer night or at the very least a weekend, however. The fact that this was a Thursday night and they totally ruined my sleep PLUS the fact that they Ding Dong Ditched a retired couple who have totally done their time in Teenage-dom REALLY bothers me.

Please understand me, people. I've VERY open minded about Ding Dong Ditching. Let's face it there are much worse things a couple of hooligans...I mean teenagers, could be doing. But now I've got my dander up because these kids broke the rules of Ding Dong Ditching Etiquette.

So, here's my plan. I'm going to set a booby trap (heh! I said booby) and string some fishing line across the steps of our porch. That way when they fall and bloody their nose on my porch, they will be down long enough for us to fling open the door and say "AHA!" and scare them half to death. Then I will tell them to leave retired people alone. And then I will hand them a copy of DING DONG DITCHING ETIQUETTE - WHAT EVERY HOOLIGAN SHOULD KNOW.
Then I'm going to fall to my knees and pray that I don't forget about the fishing line and trip on my own steps and break a hip.

I know it sounds harsh, but you DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW what Blake's suggestion was.
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*When I was in college I had a professor who had suffered from "inoperable" brain cancer and was told she would not survive. She won the battle against cancer and returned to the classroom. On our first day of class she shared her story and told us she still struggled with memory, so if she started covering a topic we had talked about the day before, we were to hold up two fingers to indicate "second time," and then she'd find her starting point again. We use the two finger signal here at the W house (which is A LOT BETTER than that one finger signal some people use). So I told that story last night.

Funny, later in the evening I started telling a story about my brother and my BFF held up not two fingers, but SEVEN!!!

PRAYERS...

I ask for your prayers.

A baby has died at the hands of his father.

This precious baby's mother has had a special place in our family for years. She has a special place in the hearts of our children; she helped shape them.

I believe in a sovereign God. I believe in a God who holds us in the palm of His hand each second of each day. And yet, may He forgive me, I don't know how this family is supposed to pull themselves up out of the pit of grief into which they've just been thrown. I don't know how a family is supposed to fight a two front battle against grief and rage. How does one grieve the loss of a baby while digging into the depths of their souls to find forgiveness?

Is the human heart really made to withstand such a brutal attack?

I AM NEARLY WITHOUT WORDS...

Since this blog is meant as a record for my family - for my children - I have to record this.

We just returned from Blake's end of season wrestling banquet. It was actually a winter sports banquet so it included basketball, wrestling, cheer leading and poms.

Since we co-op with another school for wrestling, we were one of four families in attendance whose child does not attend this school. The building is a second home to Blake but we obviously don't know all the families like we would if it were a banquet being held at our own high school.

The banquet started with a nice meal and all the athletes together in the cafeteria. Each athlete was introduced and then the teams were separated into different rooms for their own awards.

The wrestling coach introduced each wrestler. Upon calling Blake's name, he called him his "Go-To" wrestler. Blake often ended up wrestling opponents he was not scheduled to wrestle because they had to move people around in weight classes (and Blake would have to wrestle UP) at the last minute or a senior would choose not to take on an opponent that was too tough for him (really!) Blake never said no. He never ran from a challenge. The coach pointed out that Blake would have had more wins to his name had he played it safe, but for the sake of the team he always took on the challenge of wrestling somebody bigger than he was. He always stepped up. The coach made sure to tell Blake tonight that his frustration at wrestling above his weight class, wrestling more experienced athletes who were often state qualifiers, and having to change his plan of attack at the last minute, were all indeed sacrifices that helped the team.

That alone was enough to make this mama proud.

Then the four main awards were given out.

Most improved wrestler went to a freshman from our school.
Most take downs went to Cody, Blake's best friend - who also goes to our school.
Best wrestler (Most Wins) went to a senior who has an astounding record.

The Coach's Award, which is voted on by the coaching staff alone, went to our son.

The award is named after a wrestler who, last year, sacrificed his spot in the state tournament to another wrestler due to a mistake made by the coach.

The plaque reads:
The Nikko Lang Award.
Awarded to Blake W
This award is based on character, sportsmanship,
leadership, unselfish acts and hard work.
Thank you for being an example to others - 2009.

I audibly gasped when they read his name. Not because I was surprised but because I was so doggone proud. Blake is lucky I did not turn into a puddle of goo right there in the cafeteria.

This is what it's all about, people. This is when you see the sleepless nights and the utter exhaustion pay off. When you see your child recognized with a plaque that includes the words Character, sportsmanship, leadership, unselfish and hard work; when you see your child being called an example to others...well, then at least for a while, you can lay your head on your pillow and rest your weary soul.

HER MOTHER IS POSSESSED BY A DEMON...

A large herd of pigs was feeding on the nearby hillside. The demons begged Jesus, "Send us among the pigs; allow us to go into them." He gave them permission, and the evil spirits came out and went into the pigs. The herd, about two thousand in number, rushed down the steep bank into the lake and were drowned. Mark 5:11-13
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Kayla stayed home today because she has a headache.

Because I had already planned a trip to the grocery store for this morning, I decided, while I was there, to once again use my vast pharmaceutical and medical knowledge and pick up a couple of things to help her feel better.

A half gallon of vanilla ice cream and the latest issue of Teen Vogue.

On my way home from the grocery store I realized I could also pick up an early lunch for us. So I steered the van into the healing glow of the Golden Arches.

Because we all know there is nothing healthier for our children than an order of Chicken McNuggets.

Along with the nuggets for Kayla, I had every intention of ordering a Southwest salad with grilled chicken for myself. Have you tried it? It's really good - and so tasty you don't even need dressing.

So I ordered a six piece McNugget with sweet and sour sauce...

And then I heard a voice say "and one Big Mac, please."

Wait. What?

I looked all around my van to see who was leaning over my shoulder to hi-jack my healthy order; but found nobody.

Clearly I have become possessed by a fast food demon and my only recourse is to throw myself down a steep bank and into one of the many large lakes found in Central Illinois.

WHO'S THE LUCKY GIRL...?

In May Paul and I will celebrate our 22nd wedding anniversary.

Now, I am not the kind of wife that expects all sorts of wining and dining on our anniversary. I don't expect an expensive vacation or an elaborate gift. I truly love and appreciate simple celebrations, living on the belief that we try to celebrate our marriage every day of the year.

This year, though, we are pulling out all the stops and are in fact leaving town for our anniversary.

We're going back to our little hometown to attend Paul's 25th class reunion.

I know.

How lucky can a girl get?

The problem lies in a statement my husband, by his own admission, made to his running buddies. Something like: "Yeah, Heidi's agreed to let my class reunion serve as our anniversary celebration."

No no no no no no no.

Heidi did not say that.

What Heidi said was that she didn't mind going to Paul's class reunion on our anniversary. I guess I just went on the assumption that some sort of simple anniversary celebration would take place on another weekend. "Assumption" is the key word, I guess.

Gentlemen, what we have here is a failure to communicate. *name that movie*

I hate to be a snob but I just can't get excited about spending my anniversary eating dinner at the local KC hall. Not that there's anything wrong with the KC hall....

To sweeten the deal Paul has offered to get us a hotel room for the night in our little hometown - our hometown with a population of 6,000. That way we can socialize and dance the night away at the KC hall without worrying about the long drive home, PLUS take in all the local culture the next day. This added bonus led to me doing a little bunny hop and clapping my hands wildly: "lucky me, lucky me, lucky me!"

The bright spot in all of this? I'm thinking that new patio furniture I've been wanting will be making it's way to our house right about the time May 23rd rolls around.

I'm just sayin'.

ON DATING...

Every now and then I have to remind Blake that his sister already has two parents and he is not one of them.

Blake, you are not the third parent around here.

This usually occurs when the subject of dating comes up for his little sister.

He has his own very clear ideas on WHEN she should be allowed to date and WHOM she should be allowed to date. The interesting thing is that these ideas keep changing.

When Kayla started high school he had a talk with us to make sure that we were indeed smart enough to forbid Kayla from dating a junior or a senior. In fact, he added, there is no reason for her to date a sophomore or anybody that can drive since she isn't allowed to car date. IS SHE?

Then he pointed out that if she were to be seen hanging out with a junior or a senior, said junior or senior boy would find himself in quite a jam because since Bronson and Andrew (our school's top wrestlers) have graduated he's pretty sure he could take anybody in our school and these upper class men would be sorry they looked at his sister.

Upon hearing this, I pictured myself jumping up and down and pumping the air with my fist - perhaps offering him money. I could totally handle having him suspended from school if it was to protect his sister's honor. But I simply said something along the lines of "Well, that's for your dad and me to handle...."

It appears, though, that Kayla and Blake have dating discussions quite often on the way to school. And although Kayla won't reveal all of their conversations (what happens in the Jeep stays in the Jeep) she has indicated that her big brother keeps changing his dating rules on her.

First the rules went something like this:

No dating juniors or seniors.
No dating any boys from another school.
No dating any boy who already had his license.

Then he added:
No dating any boy who was NOT a wrestler.

Now, evidently Blake has amended his dating rules again:

No dating wrestlers because they are too dumb - his words not mine. When Kayla pointed out that he was a wrestler. He simply said "I know."
No dating anybody that does not attend our church.
No dating ANYBODY until Blake is at least twenty and is a trained marine or soldier and highly skilled in numerous forms of combat. In other words, until Blake is able to kill somebody without leaving a mark.

Since this final list of rules sounds just about right to me, I will be having them notarized tomorrow. Then we three parents can sign off on it.

Sorry, Kayla.

THE SOUTH BEACH DIET DROPOUT

About four weeks ago, I broke up with South Beach.

I had been with him for 3 weeks before I had to give him the "it's not you; it's me" speech. Except it was him.

Even though I lost 7 pounds in two weeks, it just didn't feel right for me. And it's not because I couldn't eat chocolate. It's because I couldn't eat a banana.

And the ban on some of the purest and simplest food seemed somehow wrong to me.

And to my colon; but we won't talk about that.

Anyway.

Paul and I decided to go on this South Beach diet together with the clear agreement that we would not police each other. We would never say "you're not supposed to have that," or question each other's choices.

We ended up deciding at the same time that it was not a diet for us - without input from each other.

Here's the thing about Paul.

He makes a lousy diet partner.

He simply does not whine enough.

He never once banged his head on the kitchen counter and whined "I miiiiiiiisss chocolate-uh."
He never once gazed wistfully into space and sighed "if only I was built like my sister."
He never once opened up about being an emotional eater or tried to explore WHY he reached for a cookie when he was sad. He just wouldn't share.
He never once looked at the calendar and tried to decide the date by which he'd once again be able to tuck in his shirt.

He simply ate his cheese sticks and pecans and went on about his day.

He obviously doesn't get this dieting thing.

Now Kayla wants to do a modified carb diet. There is no way on God's green earth that she needs it but she has assured me she just wants to feel a little better and get a little leaner for softball. After giving it much thought for several days, I've decided that her mindset is healthy and that I'd let her do this, and I'll do it with her if she wants. We'll simply limit french fries, baked potatoes, white bread and candy, but we will NOT ban fruit from our diets.

But let me make myself clear on this. If she does not whine the entire time I'm out of there.

IT'S JUST NOT MEANT TO BE

Big news day - this is my second post in 8 hours...


Since I know all of you have been checking in several times a day regarding my cardigan crisis; here's an update.

My new Raspberry Rose cardigan arrived today.

It's Lime Sorbet.

NNNNNNAAAAAAYYYYGGGGH!

There must be some glitch in the JC Penney computer that sends "green" when we punch "pink." Now it falls to me to contact them and let them know they have a problem with their computer system.

Because if I don't there will be millions of women all over the world wearing Lime Sorbet when they really wanted to wear Raspberry Rose. And we simply cannot have that.

*sigh* It is so hard to be me.