Anger Management

When I was a 5th grade teacher, I had many students with anger issues. I learned different and unique ways to handle them because the discipline tools at my disposal were a joke. I found these to be more effective:

-I would sing them a calming song that involved some high notes and resulted in, "Mizz T, if you'll stop that I'll act right."

-I would make them stay after school and read some Joyce Meyer literature about managing our emotions before our emotions manage us.

-I would call their Mothers or, better yet, their Grandmothers to come join them at school the next day. Some kids were cussed out in front of everyone by their mother, but I couldn't control that. I had probably been saying those things in my head, anyway.

-They would have to hold my hand in front of everyone. This was especially traumatic for my boys.

Why am I blogging about this?

Well, it seems I have come across an angry boy that is immune to my methods. He just plain didn't want to share mommy that day:

Friday, I'm in Love with........Olive Oil and Saran Wrap

It's not sexy around here when I really start to try and beautify myself. Nope, all kinds of processes are required that I would rather my husband not see.

This is one of them.

Olive oil is pure moisture. I like to warm up a tablespoon, work it through the ends of my hair, and then wrap my head in saran wrap. Then, I watch a good chick flick while I'm feeling all pretty...

After it's washed out, the result is shiny and repaired hair. I say "repaired" because I am quite surprised that my hair has not rebelled and started falling out after all I do to it.

What Lurks in the Living Room

"Sara, I got the baby something, but it's kind of scary."

You never want to hear your Dad say these words. Hmmm...the only time I've seen my Dad scared was when I was sneaking some midnight Oreos in the kitchen and he thought I was a burglar and came out of his room with a gun. He's a hard man to scare.

Apparently my Dad bought something at the zoo, and my son was either going to "love it or it was going to scare the sh** out of him." Excellent. Just what a mommy wants to get in the mail.

Then, it arrived:




It does not, in fact, scare my one-year-old. I, however, have screamed twice and almost wet myself once when I walked in the living room and forgot it was there. This frog has certainly tested my New Year's Resolution to clean up my mouth. Frickin' Frog.

My son has a different opinion:




He has carried it around all morning on his many adventures. He seems to have his Grandaddy's tolerance for scary things. Lord, help me!

Adventures in Shopping Carts

I asked my step-mother-in-law (or, as I call her, "MOM #3"), how she got her daughter to behave at the grocery store. (This is becoming a big issue for me now that my baby is a toddler and he would like to walk the aisle as far away from mommy as possible...am I already uncool?) Mom #3 insisted that discipline and training should be the priority over errands.

At the time, it sounded logical and doable until my toddler had a meltdown at the grocery store yesterday. I turned red and started throwing things in my cart, not stopping to compare price and nutrition value. All I knew was that everyone in the tiny health food store were stopping to look at the bad mommy that couldn't control her child. (Not really, they actually smiled and looked sympathetic, but that's what it felt like.) I tried this:

-"SHHHHHH!!!! SHHHHHHH!"
-"Look at this! Hold this! Shake this!"
-"Mommy is shopping, stop that!"

*In case you had any doubt, none of these efforts made any change in his screaming.*

Then, I had these thoughts:

-I can't leave him at home every time I need to run an errand.
-He is not suffering when I make him sit in the cart while I grocery shop.
-Fit throwing and whining shouldn't give him power.

Then, I remembered Mom #1's mommy motto: Make it worse on them than it is on you. So, for the next 2 hours, I went to every loud store I could think of and put his unhappy hiney in the cart so he could "practice" sitting while I shopped. He threw a fit the entire time we were at Sam's while pulling my t-shirt up. Thanks, son. At Lowe's, he only whined half the time. At the end of the day, he sat quietly until it was time to go home.

I went home and made Hamburger Helper for dinner. Sheesh, I had nothing left to give.

The Camera Nerd and History Nerd Go on Vacation

I tease my hubby all the time that he likes to geek out when we go on vacation. He always likes to make a "history pause" when we go out of town. I recently joined the nerdiness when I got a new camera. I jump at the opportunity to visit a new location, and don't mind the tours of American history as much anymore.

When we took off for New Mexico, he mentioned that Billy the Kid's grave site was on our way to the cabin. (Yeah, if you like driving an hour out of your way...) We made the stop at Fort Sumner and visited the grave of one of the most notorious outlaws of the wild west. What do you get when the history nerd and the camera nerd go on vacation??

First Vacation Post-Baby

I've read that husbands and wives who neglect their marriage for parenthood don't fare well when the kiddos leave the nest. It's been likened to "waking up next to a stranger" once the kids are all off to college.

When my husband and I became parents, I was determined to be a wife as much as I was a mother, and found that a difficult thing to balance. The needs of a baby are so intense that having date nights and making time for baby-free conversation are insanely difficult.

All that said, in the spirit of investing into our marriage and making time for ourselves, we set off for a cabin in New Mexico and left our one-year-old with the happiest Granny in Grannyland. (She kept trying to get us to leave early and claimed that we were "bothering them.")

I was having the time of my life in the mountains of New Mexico and enjoying things that I have not enjoyed since our son arrived:

*Sleeping in and not making the bed
*Drinking coffee all day long
*Hanging with fabulous friends and chillaxing all day in our PJ's. (Some of us did not change out of our PJ's. Ahem. Robert.)
*Watching movies as loud as I wanted
*Midnight Margaritas with my husband
*Not having to be quiet. Ever.
*Not having to worry about a curious 14-month-old eating rocks, dirt, pain pills, ect.
*NO DIRTY DIAPERS

However, as fun as is was, no one ever told me that separation anxiety can be as intense for the mommy as it is for the baby. As much as I was enjoying those things, I felt like I left my heart when we left OKC. I know this is incredibly unhealthy and "psycho-mommy," but I don't ever want to leave him again! In fact, now that we're back home, he seems kind of mad at me about the whole thing.

Wife and Mommy are definitely hard to balance.

I Got Schooled by Grandma

My quest for better health and firmer buns is going quite well. I get up at 5:30 and get myself to the gym a whopping 3-4 days a week.

I've been at it about a month now and I decided to try a spinning class. Eek! Spinning is 20 people pedaling for an hour and it apparently burns 400-700 calories. Count me in, I just ate an entire cow at Texas Roadhouse last night. With fries and ranch dressing.

The instructor got me set up on my bike and I made sure that she knew it was my first time, (that way, if I fell off or crapped out 20 minutes into it, there would be no judgment.) I was right next to a tiny, elderly lady. Okay, great, no pressure. She even encouraged me:

"Hello, dear. I just do my best, too. I usually can't finish an entire class, but I'm here! You just do what you can!"

I felt myself relax as I was enveloped in her sweetness.

Then the music started and something happened.

She, in all her 60-year-old glory, took off like the devil was chasing her. She pumped her legs in her short shorts, (that's when I noticed how oddly toned they were), she yelled at the instructor, she moved to the beat and she left me in her dust. I would also like to mention that she did, indeed, finish the entire class.

There was nothing sweet about her, after all. And my new fitness goal is to keep up with Grandma. And...to look as good in short shorts.