I don’t know why I do this to myself, but the kids and I start school in 3 weeks, and I am freaking out on the daily about all the things I need to get done in terms of prerequisites: (shots, police check, books, clothes) for me, school shopping (clothes, backpacks, lunch bags, and supplies) for the kids; and preparation (freezer meals, meal plans, back-up mother figures, car maintenance, lose 30 pounds, HAHAHA).
On top of that I’m so stuck at this awful weight and it’s bringing my mood down and my stress levels up, because I fight with myself daily to a) get off my ass and b) eat better. I’ve been getting off my ass almost daily.
Why yes, yes I did. While I wrote it, I probably was EATING. Stress eating is my favorite hobby, doncha know? THIS is why I need to run. And running makes me feel injured a lot of the time so I was doing other things like boot camp and Zumba, but still eating like a pig runner. OINK OINK.
See the dilemma? Yeah, I suck.
The fact that I suck is a recurring theme in my head. I try not to tell myself that I suck, but my brain isn’t working lately, and I fight the scale, the fridge, the pantry, and instead of tackling my to-do list*, I end up doing things like this:
(drinking beer with my sister)
and this:
(making ninja s’mores with my kids and my nephews)
and this:
(helping my husband finish building our back deck)
and this:
(hiking with my kids and nephews to a local waterfall)
and this:
(making 60 jars of pickles)
and this:
(holding hands with my love, while we drove 4 hours there and 4 hours back to my Granny’s 80th birthday party)
There have been trips to Indiana, the beach, the parks, the waterpark, the States, Toronto and so much more. It’s been a wonderful summer and there are still more things planned.
Hey, all this stuff makes my kids happy as clams and it all makes me happy too, but I thrive on routine and so do my kids and I can’t wait for school to start so we can get into that routine, but at the same time I am freaking out. It’s like a hamster wheel of stress in my brain right now. I think I need for Amazon to hurry up and deliver my textbooks so I can distract myself with this:
Just think: one day this crazy face could be your nurse’s face. Aren’t you just so HAPPY about that? I think I need to CALM DOWN. Everything will be alright, right? RIGHT?
*wink*
*most of the to-do list is done. shots are done. police check? check. books ordered. kids are ready for school in terms of clothes, supplies and backpacks/lunch-kits. Now if only I could drop 30 pounds in 3 weeks. Oh the pressure we put on ourselves…
Anyway, in an effort to simplify my life, I decided to try my hand at vlogging this year. I’m really busy and so that means unedited, one-take videos will have to suffice. This first one is just an introduction, and hopefully it doesn’t put you to sleep.
This morning, after EIGHT frigging snow days in the last week & a half, the kids and I woke up late (of course) for the 2nd last day of school before Christmas holidays.
I didn’t bother rushing. I highly doubt the school had some major academics to shove down their throats before visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
Nearly two hours late for school, we finally got our shit together and got ready in the front hall of the house. I opened the door to the garage, hit the button to open it and was ATTACKED by what I thought was maybe a bat. Or a flying beaver. It was HUGE.
Needless to say, I had a heart attack on the spot while screaming my fool head off. My screaming did not stop until the door was closed and we were safe in the front hall, all screaming at each other – though my kids were staring at me, wide-eyed, mouths open, emitting sounds that emulated my own screeching because they had no idea what the hell was wrong.
When I finally pulled myself together and shut my yap, I told the kids there was possibly a bird stuck in the garage. By this time, the big garage door was open, so we crept out the front door of the house and peeked into the garage to search for the flying wildebeest.
I spotted the assailant right away, atop the highest shelves in the garage, panting wildly behind some chair-in-a-bag thingies we cart to soccer. All I could see was a wing, going up and down quickly – I think the creature was having it’s own heart attack in my garage.
Sonofabitch.
Thankfully, my almost 12 year old manned-up way better than me and was more than willing to go into the garage, armed only with a sawed off broomstick.
I do not know why we have a sawed off broomstick in our garage. The man-cave is perplexing.
My son was bound to get the poor thing out of our garage without harming it. He tiptoed around my car, to were the bird was — and it was up very high — probably a good two feet above his head.
The 6 year old and I stood quietly by the side of the garage door, peeking in, little clouds of our breath hanging in the air.
My 12 year old got closer, closer, closer until he was standing next to the giant shelf, and he started tapping at the shelf to try to coax this thing out.
Nothing.
He went around to the other side of the shelf and tried from the other side. It flew out of it’s hiding spot — and directly into the top of the big garage door, smashing it’s stupid dumb head. It fell on top of my car, flew up into the ceiling and landed on another tall shelf on the side of the garage. Blood and feathers flew.
I heard myself screaming again. What a pussy.
12 year old went straight for the shelf where the creature was at, tapped again and the stupid thing freaked out again, hit his head on the ceiling AGAIN, and landed on a box right in front of my car.
It was a dove. A stupid, dumb dove.
I felt so sorry for it. Kind of. I’m really not a fan of birds, at all. Birds are odd and have eyes that pierce your soul. I’m kind of afraid of soul-piercing birds and their eyes.
Clearly I have issues.
I decided the only way to get this little guy out was to remove my car from the garage so it would have more room to see to the outside and maybe not smash it’s head open again.
Here’s where I repeatedly peed my pants. The only way to get inside my car was to get within 3 feet of this thing, and pray to The Great Canadian Heavenly Mooses (Meese?) that it wouldn’t fly at my head. I had visions of opening my car door, ducking to avoid the flight pattern of the stupid dumb dove, and smashing my own pretty face on the car. I have a really active imagination, and it usually ends up bloody in my head. (Ask me sometime about my master bedroom closet that most definitely has ghosts in it, especially at bedtime.)
Anyway, me smashing my pretty face on the car door? That didn’t happen.
I instructed the kids to stay on the porch so I didn’t run over their little butts, and got in my car as quickly as a woman having 6 simultaneous heart attacks could.
I started the car and the bird didn’t move. I could see his little head was bleeding. Poor (stupid) baby.
I double checked that my spawn weren’t in the way, and slowly backed the car into the driveway. The bird sat motionless, probably cursing me for having 2 concussions and a bloody head. Stupid dumb human.
12 year old waited for me to resume my post beside the garage door before he went in. His plan was to pick the bird up in his gloves and bring it outside, if it would let him.
It didn’t.
He got within a foot or two, and it flew out in seconds, up into the sky and into some nearby trees.
I hope it’s going to be okay. I also hope it tells all it’s stupid, dumb, bird-brained friends to avoid my house.
Me on the other hand? I’ll be packing a BB gun and some nitroglycerin next time I open that garage door.
