Let me check my schedule and get back to you...

I bought a planner today. I don't have anything to put in it since I don't have anything to do, don't have any friends, and am not working right now, but it's super cute. I think it makes a great accessory, but may look a little too unused, which could be misinterpreted as unnecessary. Preparation is key, however. Soon people will be begging me to hang out with them. I'm a bit of an outcast tho since I don't go to church...my beliefs will remain private with these people down here or I for sure will never keep friends. My friend Jen (for real, I'm not talking in third person here, nor will I ever) keeps a log of restaurants she wants to try. Maybe I'll do that. I tried oysters... Maybe I'll back up and add that to last week. Zumba! I'll add Zumba to every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday...even though I'll go half that much, but it will definitely be impressive, won't it.

Emmaism

Conversation between Emma and myself:

You can't get me chunk.

I believe you mean chump.

No, chunk.

Em, I think it's, "You can't get me chump."

You can't get me chunk.

Okay, it's chump, but neither of which I prefer to be called.

Jump chunk.

Yeah, I like garden salad.

Fellow bloggers,

I am sorry for letting you down and falling behind on my posts. I have been thinking about you though.

Last week we made the move to Southern Alabama. The drive down was quite atrocious. It was my mom, Emma, Olivia and myself in one vehicle and Scott and my dad driving the two moving trucks. After 7 hours of driving, they had some kind of issue with the tires or something so had to stop. My mother and I decided to carry on and leave them to wait in an unknown city for the mechanic people. Shortly after we drove off, Olivia had a crying fit, which later resulted in my own crying fit. I had to find a place to stop. Quickly. Really...it was the hardest Olivia has ever cried. We couldn't do anything to get her to stop. By the time I FINALLY found an exit, it was full blown hysteria. I got her out of the car and called Scott, crying myself at this point, and told him I wanted to go back. Unfortunately, the furthest I got was back to where we had left him and my dad. We ended up getting a hotel room...which Scott had already reserved by the time I got there. I get out of the car, get the girls and follow him to the hotel. When I look up, I see this shitty ass hotel in front of me and a, dare I say, nicer one next to it. I stop, turn around and tell him I am absolutely not staying there. I will, however, stay THERE, pointing to the "nicer" of the two. So we did. Let me just tell you this. The nicer hotel was twice as much as the scumbag one, but the cost was still under $100. Really, Scott. The next day was better. Not great, but better.

So it has been a week and I have been house hunting everyday. It's ruining my life and I'm pretty sure everyone knows it. So yesterday my brother's girlfriend asked me to go to zumba with her. I have never been, but knew of it. Latin dancing + hip hop + sweat + blurred vision = absolute fun. Who knew. It probably saved me from cutting my wrists last night.

On top of not finding a house, I can't understand these people. It feels like I'm visiting another country - and I stick out about the same. The language, the churchy stuff, "yard salin'"...which sounds A LOT like garden salad, which is what I THOUGHT I was being asked. "Yes, I like garden salad." And then I turn around to see Katie (brother's girlfriend), bowled over trying to keep herself from peeing her pants. Turns out the lady wasn't asking about garden salad at all. I thought garden salad sounded a little formal...why not just call it salad? Oh...because, you're asking about "yard salin'." Go ahead...say it...yard salin'/garden salad. Well, the lady ended up walking off and I think she might be mad at me now. I'm never going to make friends at this rate.

Wish me luck!

Go away. No, not you. Those Jon and Kate people.

I really just wish these people would go away. Not for my sake...because I really don't care and don't get their popularity, but for their own sanity. Poor Kate can't even beat her children without being blasted on tv for it. I'm sure the little girl deserved it. I have a 5 year old. I know. I really, really, sincerely feel sorry for them. I'm sure Kate got carried away with the fame, but who wouldn't. I would absolutely have a free tummy tuck if someone offered it to me. Really though...I would much rather have the paparazzi catch Angelina Jolie spanking Maddox. And the media catches the little girl's facial expression and says, "She's obviously in pain." Good God. Kate's hand was still in the air. It hadn't even landed. Let these people live their dysfunction privately...or on their hit reality show...
(And by "media" I am talking about my #1 news source, E! news.)

Happy Birthday to Me

I really don't mind my birthday. It usually feels a little better than the rest of the days in the year, but honestly, I'm not overly excited about it nor am I slitting my wrist over it. My husband is quite possibly the worst gift giver in the world though. Good guy, means well, but terrible gifter. Let me tell you how my morning went. I woke up this morning and shortly after, Emma came in my room. "Happy Mother's Day! I mean.....Happy Birthday, Mommy!" We hug, she is very sweet and really wants me to have a fun day. She makes me wait in my bedroom while she gets something ready in the kitchen. 30 mins. When I came out, she surprises me with all of her princesses lined up on the counter and all of her bday cards standing up open and leftover balloons from her birthday. It looks like a party. Then, it's time to open my present. She tells me daddy picked it out without her. It's obvious. It's a scale.

I have been trying to lose weight and have been saying I really want a scale. However, I wasn't so sure I wanted one for my birthday. In fact, I'm pretty sure I didn't. I text messaged Scott and said, "Thanks for the scale." He replied saying he'll give me the rest of my present later as Emma just wanted to give me something in the morning. Great. I'm expecting a Weight Watchers membership. Later...much later...he texts me again to see if I'm mad about the scale. No, not mad about the scale. Really, I wasn't. I did want one, I just thought it was kind of a weird birthday present. He agreed and tried to redeem himself by saying I really don't need it. Blah blah blah. I HAVE used it 4 times today and am amazed at how often my weight changes throughout the day. I've never had a scale before. Happy Birthday to me.

Holy Matrimony

As we prepare for yet another move, I am asking myself again why people get married. It really just doesn't make sense to me. Then, when I "politely discuss" my aggravations with friends, I find they are going through the exact same crap! Are we really supposed to be with one person for most of our life? I don't think people got this one right. It's a long life we live (hopefully) and getting married seems to be more like a life sentence than happily ever after. Let me be clear...I am not specifically talking about my marriage here, just marriage in general. I mean obviously I wouldn't be writing this if I didn't think marriage was hard, but this isn't a cry for help or anything like that; so please, no interventions.
Most people marry in their 20's...after college and after we get jobs, apartments, houses, whatever. Marriage seems to be the next thing to do. I see 20 something year olds now and I think how in the hell could someone at that age have good enough judgment to pick one person they want to be with forever. It's not logical. Nearly all of my friends have married good people, but almost all of them would rather take a bullet than spend alone time with their spouse. Again, these are good people - obviously everyone has faults though and those faults intensify day after day after day after day after day. And then the faults multiply. Eventually you have to hit a breaking point and say, "ENOUGH ALREADY." And then you're miserable and you make the other person unhappy and you don't even care. When I got engaged, everyone was congratulatory and happy for us. Today, when my friends (the single ones who are left) get engaged, I send them a warning. Most don't listen and then after the excitement is over and they see how irrational marriage really is, I am not above saying, "I told you so." From now on, when I know someone is getting married, I'll be sending a card of sentiment instead of congratulate.

Something has been on my mind for awhile so I thought why not blog about it? (For the record, I will not be blogging about everything on my mind - first of all, I would be in big trouble. Secondly, there is way too much on my mind, to even try to keep track of it all would be impossible.) So Emma, my darling first born, asked to have a picnic. I absolutely had no time for it as I had a million things to do that day. BUT after she said she would have the picnic by herself, there was no way I could allow that. So. I made lunch, she put the blanket in the yard and we sat and had a picnic. So you might wonder what we talked about. She wanted to talk about what a nice daddy she has. A little surprised she would want to talk about him when I am the one spending this good quality time with her. But fine. Sure, I agreed, he's a nice daddy. But Mommy's a nice Mommy, right? LONG pause. And then..."You're pretty..." And the way she said it was as if it was the consolation prize. WHAT?? I'm pretty?? I'm not NICE??
No, sometimes I get in trouble.
Yeah, that's because sometimes you're naughty.

So then I realized I'd much rather be pretty than be nice. I don't care if it's the consolation prize. I'm just fine with not being nice. And there won't be anymore picnics either.