So this weekend, aside from the inappropriate thoughts in the head of the amy regarding the ballet (why do i love to put ‘the’ in front of everything? I need help.) it’s been chock full of events and personal enlightenment. Friday night consisted of a “Let’s look inside Amy’s head!” experience. It was interactive, complete with waterworks and I’m sure a Tammy Faye Baker look since I was wearing mascara at the time. I got some insight on why I feel all mopey and depressed sometimes and managed to actually convey these things to James, the wonderful man who listens to my neuroses and tells me it will be ok.

I’ve also started contemplating how much is too much to spill here on this blog. While I would like to go the route of full disclosure, it’s probably not fair to those around me, and we all know how full disclosure can sometimes lead to being dooced so I definitely need to draw the line somewhere. I don’t like lines. I’m going to make my line a fuzzy, foggy sort of mist that I can wander into and out of at will. Yeah! Go mist! On the one hand, I could just pass on the funny bits of my life and call it good, but I didn’t start this blog with the intent of just floating through the events and not really delving into ME, and I don’t want to wanker out now. Because let’s face it. I love talking about ME. ME ME ME.

Anyway. To the weekend.

1) Friday night blubbering*

* To my credit, I got this out of the way FRIDAY NIGHT and then was fine the rest of the weekend – I highly suggest going this route in your mental breakdowns.

I volunteered to fold some brochures for work. So Friday night, James is settled in front of World of Warcraft laptopness and I’m settled in to folding brochuresness. So I’m folding away and we’re watching Gilmore Girls when it occurs to me, that if the situation were reversed, if James was doing some meaningless and menial task, I would offer to help him. What is it about me that I would automatically offer to help complete this boring, skin-drying task? James evidently did not have this “must help” gene, because he didn’t offer. Please don’t mistake me. I’m not trying to paint a “how dare he” or a “poor-little-me” picture here. I’m painting the “I am a PUSSY” picture. Why do I feel the need to offer my assistance? And somewhat related, why do I feel as if I must be in control? I don’t think I would paint myself as a control freak, but maybe I am deluding myself and am nuttier than Monica Geller. As the inner peering continued, into the wee early hours of the morning, I unloaded a bunch of stuff on James and he, as always, has come through it all right, with no threats of divorce on the horizon.

Then again, I hear certified mail takes a few days.

I think that’s far enough into the mist for one day. That was probably a toe, stuck into the mist. Maybe next time I’ll get the whole foot in.

2) Saturday morning weigh-in.

Well folks, it wasn’t good! Up 4.8 lbs. This is not good. I knew it wasn’t going to be good, because I pretty much have been eating halloween candy all week and been saying “Oh this one little thing won’t hurt” to all sorts of things for mealtimes. So this will serve as a wake up call for me. I have been doing this for FOUR WEEKS, and my total is -2 pounds. If I am going to meet my New Years goal, it is time to GET TO IT! Just think. If I had lost 2 pounds a week, I’d be down 8 pounds at this point.

Ok, so no more kicking myself. Just time to get busy. And I am. Saturday I do kind of whatever I want, within reason, which has worked for me in the past, but Sunday, I cooked up a storm and made my lunch to bring to work for the week. I cooked and assembled my favorite thing, brown rice, browned onions (mmmmmmm) and browned, diced chicken. I also made up some of that (startlingly yummy, reminds me of the old pot-luck dinners in the church gym) pineapple fluff so whenever James dished up his mountain of chocolate ice cream, I wouldn’t have to look at him and yearn. No working out yet this week. Maybe Wednesday and Friday. And of course, Water Water Everywhere!

3) Saturday Night Ballet.

This is covered territory, but I’d just like to reiterate: Freedom for ballet dancers everywhere!

4) Cox Farms Pumpkin Madness (MADNESS, MADNESS I TELL YOU!!)

We went down the big slides, ventured over to the goats (who on discovering that Jocelyn did not carry food, immediatedly butted her and made her cry) left quickly for the barn with baby pigs, baby cow, and baby chickens and a slide out of the loft which Ethan wanted to do again and again (“BY MYSELF THIS TIME MOMMY!”), watched them drop pumpkins from atop a lofty crane (Ethan loved it, Jocelyn was scared of the noise of the pumpkin hitting the ground), did more slides, ate apples and cider, threw some itty bitty pumpkins, played on the toy train, watched the ponies giving rides and then finally came home.

Regrets: James and Ethan always went first down the slide(s) with Jocelyn and I following, so I never got to see either kid’s face coming down. That would have been great. Also, James forgot the camera. Damn him. Oh well.

5) The afternoon and evening of Sunday TANTRUM HELL.

And it came to pass, that Jocelyn was exceedingly sick. And yay, the girl laid down her head upon her crib, and did not sleep at naptime. The Lord decreed that there be no sleeping, but there would be much coughing, and sniffing and crying. And the Lord looked down, and said, “Let there be screaming. Let there be running away from the parents who wish to console her, they must look upon their spawn and weep for their inability to comfort her.”

Well, a wee exageration, for we did discover a few things that helped her. Distraction. And I’m not just saying, wave a toy in front of her or turn out the Wiggles, because even the powerful POWERFUL draw of the Wiggles only worked for about 5 minutes. I finally tossed her in the stroller and took her around the block in BLISSFUL silence, only to return home, and watch her THROW herself on the ground in a fit just inside the door. She was so tired and so sick that she just hated life, poor girl. Daddy discovered the other distraction and took her to the grocery store where she probably amused herself tossing things out of the cart and watching Daddy run after them. Oh she’s good at that. When they returned, it was late enough to try to carry the distracted momentum into the bathtub, and then into jammies and bed, where she laid and coughed and sniffed and cried some more. It was truly one of the worst days of her young little life, and I daresay ours as well. Some Benedryl and Robitussin finally came through and she did get SOME rest that night. Today, she is much improved, and actually slept very well last night with minimal coughing.

So exciting, full weekend. That’s it. The end.

– amy “I AM A PUSSY!”