I'm a mom. I raised two kids. Sometimes I worked, sometimes I stayed home. It all depended on what my family needed from me at the time. Sometimes, we really needed the money. But other times, my kids really needed me more. I know the challenges of both worlds, and I know I'm no Wonder Woman.
If I'd had a special needs child, I would have moved Heaven and Earth to stay home to care for him. I can't for the life of me see where my career would have been more important than that. Nothing would have been.
Seems to me that Mrs. Palin has more kids than she can raise and is not the devoted mother she could be. With one daughter already about to become a teenaged mother, doesn't she think maybe her kids could use more interaction with her, not less?
If my kids were getting into that kind of trouble, I wouldn't leave the state. I wouldn't even leave town. Not because it's only the mother's job to watch these kids, but because it takes two to keep track of that many, especially when one of them is a baby.
I'm just saying....
Friday, September 12, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Bikini Check In
Swimming season starts Memorial Day, at least in my neck of the woods. Yikes, that is only eight weeks away!
Are you eight weeks away from bathing suit ready? I sure am not.
Okay, here's the plan: put down that bag of Doves and pay attention. We're going to grab a suit, try it on, and get ready for summer.
It's simple and here's how it works.
1) Buy a suit.
Don't try it on. You know your size. No matter what you try on, you're going to think it looks horrible. Am I right? I can't see you, but I sense you're nodding your head. Buy the suit you want to look good in, not the one you think you already will. Get a cute one.
2) You need a full-length mirror, a room and five minutes a week.
Pick one day, any day, a week. Lock the door - it's nobody's business but yours. Put on that bikini and take a look.
I know, it's a scary thought. At first anyway. But here's the thing, you still have eight weeks.
Eight weeks to think about what diet and exercise you are doing. And this will help you stick to it, maybe even work a little harder. Eight weeks to get used to what you look like in a bathing suit as you are right now. Imagine, if you just pick one thing that bugs you and work on that a little and see improvement, how much better you'll feel when you do hit the beach or the pool.
This will be my eighth year of locking myself in the bedroom, trying on a swimsuit. Trust me, it makes me think twice about eating those Doves, yummy as they are. Oddly I do more walking too.
I've never been perfect and I never will be. This ain't about being perfect. It's about being a little better. And hey, whatever works.
Are you eight weeks away from bathing suit ready? I sure am not.
Okay, here's the plan: put down that bag of Doves and pay attention. We're going to grab a suit, try it on, and get ready for summer.
It's simple and here's how it works.
1) Buy a suit.
Don't try it on. You know your size. No matter what you try on, you're going to think it looks horrible. Am I right? I can't see you, but I sense you're nodding your head. Buy the suit you want to look good in, not the one you think you already will. Get a cute one.
2) You need a full-length mirror, a room and five minutes a week.
Pick one day, any day, a week. Lock the door - it's nobody's business but yours. Put on that bikini and take a look.
I know, it's a scary thought. At first anyway. But here's the thing, you still have eight weeks.
Eight weeks to think about what diet and exercise you are doing. And this will help you stick to it, maybe even work a little harder. Eight weeks to get used to what you look like in a bathing suit as you are right now. Imagine, if you just pick one thing that bugs you and work on that a little and see improvement, how much better you'll feel when you do hit the beach or the pool.
This will be my eighth year of locking myself in the bedroom, trying on a swimsuit. Trust me, it makes me think twice about eating those Doves, yummy as they are. Oddly I do more walking too.
I've never been perfect and I never will be. This ain't about being perfect. It's about being a little better. And hey, whatever works.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
People and pets
Call me crazy (you won't be the first) but today I had a Birthday, or as we say here, Hatchday party for my two parrots. They're brother and sister. At least I think one's a male and one's a female. If you ask them, that's what they'll say too. So I just go with that.
It never pays to argue with anyone who has a beak that can double as a can opener.
We did snacks and a movie. Do the same with kids and it could be fun, could be disater. It's always good with the birds - there are four of them in all. We have two dogs also, who one of the birds will toss popcorn to. He knows dogs like treats as much as he does.
What's different about my animal friends than my human friends? Well, no matter what I give them, they're happy. They never return a gift. They're glad every day just for the food and water - what family member can you say that about? No matter how I look, they don't care. They're still happy to see me and spend time with me. They never take what I say the wrong way or look for ulterior motives to every thing I do.
I am what I am to them. They don't care if I'm old or young, ragged or pretty, tall or short, rich or poor, well dressed or schlepping around in my jammies and robe. Okay, the birds do dislike it when I wrap a scarf around my head, and the love a new piece of jewelry. But not in a judgemental way.
Animals see us as we are in a way that people really can't. People see us clouded by their own rough day, their own insecurities, the things they need from us. The parrot just wants my papaya - I always have it around, because that's what friends are for, right? And for that, he'll whistle and call me Sweetie.
When the family complains about the dog hair - we have little dogs, but one of them sheds what seems to be his weight in hair - I tell them they're lucky. Not everybody has a dog that loves them enough to cover them in hair that way.
So if you see some short lady walking around covered in dog hair - maybe bird doody on the back of her shirt (I check, but sometimes I miss it) - that could be me. Lucky, lucky me.
Happy Hatchday, Jake and Goldie!
It never pays to argue with anyone who has a beak that can double as a can opener.
We did snacks and a movie. Do the same with kids and it could be fun, could be disater. It's always good with the birds - there are four of them in all. We have two dogs also, who one of the birds will toss popcorn to. He knows dogs like treats as much as he does.
What's different about my animal friends than my human friends? Well, no matter what I give them, they're happy. They never return a gift. They're glad every day just for the food and water - what family member can you say that about? No matter how I look, they don't care. They're still happy to see me and spend time with me. They never take what I say the wrong way or look for ulterior motives to every thing I do.
I am what I am to them. They don't care if I'm old or young, ragged or pretty, tall or short, rich or poor, well dressed or schlepping around in my jammies and robe. Okay, the birds do dislike it when I wrap a scarf around my head, and the love a new piece of jewelry. But not in a judgemental way.
Animals see us as we are in a way that people really can't. People see us clouded by their own rough day, their own insecurities, the things they need from us. The parrot just wants my papaya - I always have it around, because that's what friends are for, right? And for that, he'll whistle and call me Sweetie.
When the family complains about the dog hair - we have little dogs, but one of them sheds what seems to be his weight in hair - I tell them they're lucky. Not everybody has a dog that loves them enough to cover them in hair that way.
So if you see some short lady walking around covered in dog hair - maybe bird doody on the back of her shirt (I check, but sometimes I miss it) - that could be me. Lucky, lucky me.
Happy Hatchday, Jake and Goldie!
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