Thriving On Awkward

We have people coming to replace carpet in our Master bedroom and basement today. I'm very excited. But I gotta say, I HATE having people come over to work on our house. I always feel so weird about it. I never know if I should hang out with them, or if I should stay away, and leave them alone. I don't want to be rude and ignore them, but I don't want to be crazy and look over their shoulders. Pete says I just over-think it too much. And as I was over-thinking his comment, I had an epiphany. You know how some people thrive on the drama? I think I thrive on the awkward! All this time I thought I was shy, but I think I just get a weird rush with making things awkward. I get butterflies when I go up and talk to Strangeworkerguy, and then stand around in silence because I can't think of what to say. "So, you come here often?" just doesn't seem to fit right. As it was all coming together, I decided that now I need to choose where I go from here. Knowing is only the pre-step. Then there's admitting that I T.O.A thrive on the awkward. Then you have to take action. Overcoming the problem seems like it will take too much work, so I've decided to embrace it. I'm not alone either. Here are examples of other's who T.O.A.





Oh, Rock, you silly guy!



Just because you're two headed, doesn't mean you can't be awkward.


And last but not least. Two washed up bad guys T.O.A.ing




Do you T.O.A?

Happy Birthday Mom!!!

Today is my mom's birthday. It's super special because this time she's turning a whole year older. Not like a few years ago when we all celebrated her 48th birthday. We had cards, "happy 48th!" cake "happy 48th" and balloons "happy 48th". She went an entire year before realizing ( just before her "49th" birthday) that after doing the math she really was in fact only 47. She got to turn 48 twice. Not a lot of people have that chance. Anyway, today she did decide to turn 50. She marched right on up over that hill like it was nobody's business. I think she's kind of depressed about it. I don't know why. I told her 50 is not nearly as ancient as the 60 that's coming up here pretty quick, but for whatever reason that didn't make her feel better. So I was hoping, that if you read this, whether you know her or not, you could wish my mom, Rita, a happy birthday. Maybe then, she would be happy. And put me back in the will


Happy Birthday Mom! I love you!!!!!

20 Cents Addicted

Today I did something I thought I would never do. I was on the way home from my girl's dance class and remembered I didn't have any diet coke at home. The thought of walking in to a store with three greedy children didn't sound very tempting, so I decided to go out of my way to stop at Chick-fil-A to get a Coke Zero. For those of you who are unaware they have to-die-for Coke Zero!
Out of my way? That's right. But not the worst part. I pulled up to the speaker and gave my order of a medium Coke Zero.
"Would you like to make it a large for only 20 cents more?" What? Of course not! Have you seen the SIZES of large drinks lately? Bigger than my head. I thought about all that caffeine I would be draining into my veins, and how the carbonation is awful for my running and I was grossed out at even the thought. I would rather not be 20 cents closer to addiction (because I am not addicted, by the way). Then I thought about all the stuff I was going to be busy with for the rest of the day.



"Yes please" I heard myself say.

I am ashamed. I supersized. I supersized myself right into addiction. It's time to face the bubbly-syrupy-aspartame music.

My name is Jodi, and I 20 centsed myself into addiction.

bigger than my HEAD for cryin' out loud! eek!

Right on the Head

I love how kids see the world. Madisen is trying to describe to me somebody so I can tell her the person's name, but I can't figure out who she is talking about. So all of you people who have:

"had dinner with us a lot of times, but maybe like two times, and have a dog, and look like you have an oval head, but actually have a circle head,"

Will you please contact me so I can ask Madisen if it's you whom she is speaking of?

Thank you.

Learning To Skate

Roller Skates?:



Check.



Strawberry Shortcake Knee Pads and Dora Elbow pads?:


Check.



Check.



Pretty Dress and Princess Tiara?




Check.
Now She's Ready.

Up the Crick Without T.V.

From Comcast news today:

Television stations across the U.S. cut their analog signals today, likely stranding more than 1 million unprepared homes without TV service.

Stranded. They are just up the crick without a paddle. How will this turn out? What WILL all those 1 million people do? Can you imagine having NO T.V.? You might end up actually (eek!) talking to some friends. Or reading. It's such a good thing Comcast is keeping us updated. This is quite serious after all. I would love to see how it all turns out. It's like nobody saw it coming. There's nothing like a spontaneous disaster hitting so suddenly, a year and a half after everyone warned you it would. Yikes. Hope someone show's mercy and throws them a life line.

(or maybe a book.)

So we're clear: overuse of the internet is completely validated.

The Cereal Battle

Does anybody else struggle in the cereal isle? I HATE the cereal isle. It's a battleground for my inner self. Do I buy the good healthy cereal that my children won't eat, but I can pat myself on the back for being such a good parent? Or do I buy the sugar loaded junk that my kids will eat, but makes me feel like I'm world's worst parent? Ugh! Last night I ended up with chocalate mini wheats, and some rice crispies. I justified the Chocoloate Mini Wheats by telling myself at least they were full of fiber. The crispies are lose-lose. No health and no sugar. It seemed a good compromise. Nobody wins. I spent 10 whole minutes looking like an idiot going up and down back and forth the dang isle over this decision the other night. WHY? I have no idea. It's cereal for crying out loud! Tell me I'm not alone please??
What do you guys do?

I Heart Pepsi (and Pete)

This is why I love my husband:

I was very busy sitting here on the computer as Pete was watching the NBA finals next to me. Suddenly the urge for a diet pepsi was overwhelming, so I turned to him and frantically yelled
"quick! Go get me a pepsi!" He looked intense, this seemed like a challenge. (if you make it seem like a challenge ladies, they are all over it) He jumps up and runs to the fridge, as I'm yelling
Hurry! Hurry up!, Quick!" His socks slid across the kitchen floor,and he gains his footing just in time to grab the fridge handle.
"Quick, I need it!"
He grabs the pepsi, and fly's over the couch arm to land halfway on the cushions, and pass the pepsi off to me before he overcorrects his spin and plunges to the hardwood floor. Don't worry, the pepsi wasn't shaken.
Boys are so simple. Do you remember when your older siblings could get you to do anything if they said "I'll time ya?" No? Uh, me either.
Same concept folks.
Excuse me now, I have a Pepsi to drink.

I spent 3 hrs today chasing The Boy around a dress rehearsal for the girl's dance. This was after 2 hours at the zoo. What a rough life I have wouldn't you say? I was talking to one of the other Mom's and she asked if my poor husband was at home fending for himself for dinner.
um. . . yes.
Because apparently she had left a note with her husband describing where everything that he needed for his dinner was. You know, the precooked bacon she had made at 2:00 this afternoon, and all the other ingredients for his BLT. She also took the time to lay out everything that her other daughter would need for dinner.

Hmm. . . I probably should have done this.
I thought of my husband coming home to his bagel and Pepsi and felt really bad. What made it worse was that she seemed to think this was a rare occasion for us too. Like the husband being un-dinnered was just a fluke.
"Ah, poor guy, just BLT's tonight" she had said.
"left him a note" she had said.
I cleared my throat a little. She was waiting for me to say something. I could have told her Pete would have been thrilled with BLT's. Or even a homemade sandwich. But, I made a new friend and I think that is MUCH more important than telling the truth.

I feel like "ohmygosh, I know" was an awesome reply and wasn't even a fib, it was an un-lie.

Un-Lie: verb
fibbing by interpretation

By the way, for those of you who want to know the end of this story, He did get dinner when I got home. Pizza is in the food groups. Right between fruit and diet coke.

BLT's and the Un-Lie

I spent 3 hrs today chasing Jack around a dance dress rehearsal. This was after 2 hours at the zoo. What a rough life I have wouldn't you say? I was talking to one of the other Mom's and she asked if my poor husband was at home fending for himself for dinner.
um. . . yes.
Because apparently she had left a note with her husband describing where everything that he needed for his dinner was. You know, the precooked bacon she had made at 2:00 this afternoon, and all the other ingredients for his BLT. She also took the time to lay out everything that her other daughter would need for dinner.

Hmm. . . I probably should have done this.
I thought of my husband coming home to his bagel and Pepsi and felt really bad. What made it worse was that she seemed to think this was a rare occasion for us too. Like the husband being un-dinnered was just a fluke.
"Ah, poor guy, just BLT's tonight" she had said.
"left him a note" she had said.
I cleared my throat a little. She was waiting for me to say something. I could have told her Andrew would have been thrilled with BLT's. Or even a homemade sandwich. But, I made a new friend and I think that is MUCH more important than telling the truth.

I feel like "ohmygosh, I know" was an awesome reply and wasn't even a fib, it was an un-lie.

Un-Lie: verb
fibbing by interpretation

By the way, for those of you who want to know the end of this story, He did get dinner when I got home. Pizza is in the food groups. Right between fruit and diet coke.

Point for me!

I know you're not supposed to revel in other people making fool's of themselve's.

But

I was very very much the reveler today when I watched someone else search for their keys when they were in their own hand. I didn't even tell her because I wanted to see how long it would take for her to find them.

Does that make me mean?

Ahhhhh. I felt pretty triumphant because at that moment I knew exactly where my keys were. They were in the diaper bag by my feet.
Or in my back pocket.
Or my purse.



Point for JODI!!