"R"ed Carpet "R"eady

Okay, I took a few days off out of respect to a friend that tragically lost her husband very suddenly. I did not think it would be nice to post anything during that time.

After I got the details of the wake and the funeral, I started thinking thoughts that will seal my fate about going to hell in a hand basket. But if I am going to hell (and there is NO DOUBT that I am) I just want you all to know that E is going to be right there next to me in the front of whatever vessel it is that will take us there.

Knowing that I was going to be seeing a lot of people from my past, I did what anyone in my position would do.

Now, granted I do not live in Hollywood and this was not going to be an awards ceremony, but I called my trainer and told him that I had to get “red carpet ready” in a matter of 3 days.

Rick (trainer) took my call for help seriously and talked me through a couple of workouts over the phone. I was not able to see him personally before the funeral, but he had me follow a tough regimen anyway. Little did he know that when I had him on speaker while I was on the “treadmill,” I was really just sitting on the couch watching Days and breathing heavy. I also made sure to set the captions option on the tv so he did not hear Sammi John and Marlena which would have been a giveaway that I was not working out.

It was not that I didn't WANT to work out, but the only time that he was available to speak to me on the phone was smack dab in the middle of Days of Our Lives, and this was a pretty big week, so I had to prioritize. Yes, of course I could have Tivo’d it, but there is something about watching a soap opera in real time that makes it that much more believable to me.

Anyway, I finally did see Rick in person the day after the funeral and I think he could tell that I had in fact NOT worked out as I feigned that I did. When I did see him on Thursday he seriously kicked up the routine a notch and even though I received a phone call from a mom that had Adam at her house for a play date, he would NOT let me answer the phone when I was in the middle of my Charlie’s Angels workout. I told him “I HAVE to answer the phone!” And Rick, who is easily 7 feet tall took the phone and held it above his head. He also sped up the treadmill to a ridiculous speed and placed his hand over the emergency stop button, so I could not even get off the freekin’ thing. I was running so fast and reaching for the phone all the while holding one hand over my heart ‘cause I am pretty sure I was starting to go in to cardiac arrest, and my other hand was waving the finger back and forth violently in Ricks general direction and I was yelling “MAKE IT STOP!!!!” To which Rick said “Not a chance, fatty, not a chance.”

He also told me that if I really wanted to lose weight that I really have to stop eating so much. Well note to Rick, I guess I like to eat, and really nothing is going to make me stop. I guess I will just need to increase my workout schedule to three times a week, that may make a difference.

On Friday I drove Ellie to school and she told me that she needed a white sock to make a snowman with in school that day. I told her “Are you SURE it's for today?” To which she replied “NO, it was for yesterday but you didn’t give me a sock then either.”

It is true that I categorically NEVER read notes sent home from the teachers, so I had to believe her. Last year when driving Adam to school I had to pull over and find things that started with the letter “R” because I did not read the note that was apparently sent home about a big “R” project that they would be working on that day. He went in to school that day with a piece of “R”ubber tire, a “R”ock, a w”r”apper (I let his teachers teach him about the silent “w”), and “R”eally gross twig.

Anyway, this go around I had to take my little white tennis sock off of my foot and send it in with Ellie to turn in to a snowman. (Good luck with THAT, suckas!)

I also attached a note to the sock that told the teachers that if the best way to communicate with me would be to “friend” me via Facebook and put it in their status update.

Friday was “Special Person’s Day” in Ellie’s class so I took Adam in with me. It was fun. Let me explain why.

I was the only NON-grandparent there. I was also the only one NOT to bring in a “gift” for the teachers or students that we were visiting. I sent Adam in to the car to get something for Ellie and the teachers. He found a tube of hand cream and a lipstick for the teachers, and a half eaten day old hot dog for Ellie.

Anyway, on Friday afternoon when we returned from school, the monogrammed sweater was at my doorstep.

I wore it to a party last night, and I will wear it to a birthday party tomorrow. I got one compliment on it by another woman who was also wearing a cashmere sweater so that felt good.

I am having company for dinner tonight. I am making roasted chicken, roasted carrots with shallots, sautéed spinach, sautéed string beans, risotto and salad. I will also be serving wine by the bucket –full.

Clean Berries

So yet ANOTHER snowday. This is becoming a little bit of a joke already. Not that I mind spending the day (AGAIN) with the kids, but they are the ones that need a break from me.

Poor little things could use some interaction with more than each other and more that just me.

There was a little progress made today though, Ellie actually DID clean something. She chose to Windex the fresh strawberries. I think between her and Adam they ate about 7 strawberries each before I realized what they had done.

Poison Control (who I practically have on my own payroll right now) assured me that they would be okay. But they also advised me NOT to allow Ellie to chase the Windex with a shot of bleach as THAT could be toxic. They know her so well….

I was able to at least get Adam to his afternoon enrichment program and the only thing I had to pack him for lunch was an unopened bag of Goldfish. I did not even have anything to pack him as a drink, so I taped a note to the Goldfish bag asking the teacher to allow him to use the water fountain if he got thirsty.

I decided to resign from my volunteer position as the Head of Fundraising at the local museum, effective immediately. Even though I had just cause, the director was not happy with me.

Well, the fact that she has not been happy with me for several months now kind of explains why I was resigning in the first place. I felt like it was a conflict of interest and to make a long story short, I somehow managed to agree to a THERAPY session WITH THE DIRECTOR on Monday.

Please. This is not normal…. I was resigning because I was feeling squeezed out by the director and then all of a sudden I am going to therapy with her?

(There is an “in-house” therapist on staff.) So, on Monday, from 9:15-10:00, while all of you will be doing your normal day-to-day stuff, I will be spending time in a therapy session trying to patch things up with a woman that I will really never need to be seeing again in my life. This is so strange to me. I am still trying to figure out how it all went down and I agreed to do it, but I figure for one therapy session to never have to do one more thing for fundraising there again, it will be worth it.

I actually have a lot of things to discuss with my OWN therapist this coming week, so maybe I will try a little teaser with the session with the director and see how good THIS therapist is. After all, I may as well use Monday’s session to “test drive” a new therapist. Not that there is anything wrong with my current one, but if the situation arises (which it has in a bizarre way), I may as well make the best of it.

Meanwhile Stephen made it home safely in the ice storm the other day. I am glad that I do not have to go back to work now as his insurance policy sucks….

Anyway, I have nothing planned for the weekend… it is the Superbowl and I really do not even give a shit, but I will be making delicious Pizzettas.

Pizzettas

(recipe)

Premade pizza rounds

Olive oil

Fresh garlic

Fresh raw spinach leaves

Red onion thinly sliced

Smoked Gouda cheese grated

Thinly sliced roasted red pepper

Cooked bacon roughly chopped

Place pizza rounds in a 200 degree oven just to dry them out of any moisture from the package. Saute chopped garlic in olive oil until aromatic, (do NOT brown), add spinach and saute until just wilted. Remove spinach from saute pan, drain pan of juice and then heat up some more oil and saute red onion until soft. Remove from pan. Lightly brush each pizza round with olive oil, then spread Gouda cheese over the crust. Unwrap and spread out the spinach leaves and cover surface area of the pizza. Layer with red onion, roasted pepper and bacon bits.

Place in 350 degree oven until cheese melts. Remove, cut into triangles and serve.

Enjoy.

Life Insurance

Today is another snow day. In fact, it is snow day #4 for the winter of '08/'09.

The kids have gotten used to the routine. Adam is a whiz at using the toaster oven… he toasts his own bread and then goes into the refrigerator to get his own butter. Ellie has gotten very good at getting in to my china cabinet, liquor cabinet and the cleaning supply cabinet. (G-d forbid she actually then CLEAN anything.)

And I have no problem pushing up happy hour to noon as opposed to the universal 5pm.

Stephen decided to drive in to work today even though the roads are a mess and the forecast is for a decline in weather throughout the day. All the snow is going to be covered in about three inches of ice. This system has already killed 19 people across the country and I am NOT happy that Stephen decided to go in to work.

For two reasons.

#1. He has the original Deed to our house in the car and if the car crashes and explodes, I am assuming that could be trouble. (He has the Deed because we are in the process of refinancing.)

#2 (and this may be the more important reason for me to be upset), his life insurance policy that he has would only cover funeral expenses and enough for me to pay off the house.

I am including a recipe for Garlic Pan Roasted Brussel Sprouts. Adam’s favorite. We will make them for dinner tonight.

Anyway, I am off to do the treadmill as I am super motivated this week to lose weight… E was lucky enough to get the stomach virus which will easily give her a HUGE advantage to the weight loss challenge we have going. I will just have to get myself into her car, and without her detecting it, I will lick her steering wheel….

That will give me hope for next week….

Garlic Pan Roasted Brussel Sprouts

(recipe)

1 bushel of Brussel Sprouts

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1 tablespoon butter

3 large garlic cloves, roughly chopped

Kosher salt

Pepper

First peel the outer layer of the Brussel sprouts, and then slice them length wise in half. Then steam them until they are a gorgeous bright green. Remove them as soon as you say to yourself “Wow, that green looks like the first leaves of spring.”

Let the brussel sprouts sit as you heat the butter and oil in a sautee pan. When the foam subsides, place garlic in the pan (medium heat). Release the aroma of the garlic, DO NOT brown the garlic. Place brussel sprouts flat side down in pan, let them get nice and brown, then shake the pan and add salt and pepper.

YUM

What Goes Up...

So, today being Thursday, I worked out with my trainer.

I now know what he is training me for… it is quite obvious.

The Special Olympics.

First of all, I must tell you that I have rug burns on my elbows. He had me do so many g-d dammed 'Up Downs' or 'Down Ups' that I literally burned my elbows because, unlike E, I do NOT have a home gym, and we just use our upstairs TV room that has very thick carpeting.

What is a 'Down Up/ Up Down' you are wondering? It is when a fatty like me lies down on the ground, and does a “special” push up. The last time E was with me and I did them in front of her, she laughed out loud and told me I looked like a platypus. Well, excuse me Miss I-can-do-a-one-handed-push-up-while-clapping-in-between, all the while belaying off of a bouncy ball. (E takes training very seriously; and it shows while I just do it so I can eat bread at lunch.)

Anyway, what I would imagine that I look like while doing a 'Down/Up' thing would be a pot bellied pig trying to do a push up while keeping its back legs extended straight out and all its weight being supported by its toes, with its ass in the air (even though my back should be straight and level with my head)

Anyway, Rick had me do a few thousand sets of 'Down/Up' things because we were “strength training” today.

He then had me get on the treadmill for sprints. AND he had me run up and down my stairs several times in a row (6 times to be exact). AND he told me that he would not let me take a break. We did this crazy routine for an hour of switching off from treadmill to stairs, to 'Down/Ups' to abs and then started the whole routine all over again. We did the routine 6 times in an hour.

I literally grabbed his arm and hand at one point while on the last treadmill go-round and made him shout “YOU CAN DO IT!!!” And when I got off the treadmill I fell to the ground and begged him to leave. But then I said “NO, you have to stay in case I have a heart attack.”

At least he complimented me on the workout which is something I have not heard in a while.

After he left I felt so good that I had a sandwich for lunch with TWO pieces of bread, 14 tablespoons of mayonnaise and 13 ounces of turkey. I also had a 1 ounce glass of water.

I continued to treat myself by sitting on the couch to watch Days of Our Lives. I figure with this kind of training routine, I should lose 3 pounds by March.

Sweet!!!

Ass Backwards

Okay, so I heeded my doctor's advice. I started up hard core with the trainer again and have been careful about what I have been eating. I also instructed Adam and Ellie to make pig noises every time they see me eat. Ellie has confused a pig’s snort with a horse’s neigh, but it still works. Adam is actually old enough to just say “Mom, if you eat that you will get fatter and die faster.” He also figured out how to work my Blackberry messenger and leaves immediate voice messages with my trainer if I cheat.

I started today with one of those bullshit energy drinks that my trainer Rick has been pushing on me. It had the same “stroke-like” side effect that the Metamucil has on me, but I figured I would give it a try.

I dropped the kids at school in my rental car with Rhode Island plates. Drama saw me and told me I look “cute” in the car. She also said with Rhode Island plates I can totally ignore certain low-level traffic laws and that the other motorists won't mind because they will just blame it on me being an out-of-towner. (Now you know why she is my other best friend.)

Anyway, E and I usually work out with Rick together on Wednesdays at E’s home in her beautiful home gym. But this morning, she emailed Rick and me that her family had been throwing up since 2am and that she was concerned that we might catch the disease even though her gym is all the way at the other end of her 10,000 square foot home.

It's okay, I cancel all the time too, so no hard feelings. Rick and I agreed to train here at my house. In my home “gym.”

I was a little nervous about today’s session because Rick instant-Blackberried me yesterday that he had read my blog. And ended his message by calling me “Ass.”

Nice.

So when Rick showed up, I knew I could not complain or anything, because I am under the strong impression that I'm on probation with him.

We started by my doing the treadmill. Usually we start with a 5 minute warm up jog, but I laid out the plan for today. “A three minute warm up.” He said “fine, I am just here today to make sure you do not get hurt.”

Just his saying that hurt. Where was the love?

He concentrated very heavily on my abs and arms today. The concentration on abs I could understand but I questioned why he was working my arms so hard. And then I realized that he was trying to cripple me so that I could no longer type.

Anyway, the session went well. At one point, Rick had me doing more shadow boxing moves and I was having a hard time getting it right. I explained to him that I am dyslexic. I take all my tests un-timed and sometimes it just takes me a little longer than others (again emphasizing that I am dyslexic).

He told me that “this is not a reading exercise.” To which I responded “that is a HUGE misconception about dyslexia; that it does NOT only affect how people read letters or numbers.” He told me that I was wrong and I told him that after our session, I would Google it and prove it to him.

Okay, I am wrong. Dyslexia has 100% to do with letters and numbers and nothing to do with doing shadow boxing backwards.

I got very upset and said “then why did the therapist diagnose me as dyslexic all those years ago?” Rick replied “back then they probably just called it that, now they would call it retardation.”

LOVE HIM!!!!!

Anyway, I am training with him again tomorrow and every Wednesday and Thursday from here on in.

Time to turn this 37 year old's ass around and get back in to shape.

And for the record, I didn't really gain 8 pounds in a month as I had told my doctor… I was kind of just wanting to rule out that I had a stroke. I knew if I had told the nurse that that was the true reason of my calling, she would have made me go to the hospital, and after I had just been there about a month ago to take care of my home-acid -facial peel that had left my face looking the color of an orangutan’s ass, I was not in a rush to go back to the ER.

However, I do think that my doctor had a point that I need to start really exercising again and eating healthfully. Certainly no harm in that, right?

Misdiagnosed

So today I went to the doctor. I booked a "same day" appointment which is unheard of unless you have major clout, or are seriously ill.

I told the nurse when I called first thing this morning "I need to book an appointment immediately." She asked why. I explained that I seem to have gained 8 pounds in a month and the only change I have made has been adding Metamucil and taking Prilosec OTC. (I have heartburn.) (The Metamucil is for something else...)

Anyway, the nurse explained that the doctor would not be able to see me for two weeks. I explained that I have a heart condition (true) and that I really felt that I needed to be seen today.

E totally backed me up on this and Drama asked if I could book my appointment after lunch. I told her "no, I could be dying, I have to be seen asap."

The nurse booked a 12:30 appointment so I was able to have a quick lunch with Drama as it turned out. She was very supportive of my decision to be seen by the doctor and even told me that "Yes, an 8 pound weight gain in a month sounds serious."

DUH!!!!!!

So when the doctor walked in (I average about 5 visits a year with her) (mostly she prescribes me meds that I never end up filling and miraculously get better) I saw her pull out a little sticky-pad thing the size of a slice of American Cheese. WHERE WAS MY FILE??!!!!?

I knew right then and there that she was not taking this appointment seriously. I explained to her that I had Googled "Prilosec and weight gain" and that there was a .01% rate of people complaining of weight gain per 1 million people taking it. Well again, not being very good at math, I explained to the doctor "clearly I am NOT the first person to complain of weight gain while taking this drug. Just look at the stats."

She jotted something down with her pencil which I swear had no point and I continued to tell her that "every time I take the Metamucil, I feel like I have a stroke within minutes of drinking the full glass."

Again, she jotted something down.

And to confirm my stroke theory I explained that "the other day when I was watching my soap opera, my lip twitched."

At that point she put her pad of stickies down, stood up and came towards me. She asked me to close my eyes and put my finger tips on my nose. "Oh good, I was hoping she would ask this one" I thought. (I always practice this between physical check-ups and I was pretty sure I would ace it.) She listened to my heart, took other vital stats and told me that I was "fine."

She then started questioning my diet and exercise routine. I explained that I thought that was "kind of personal," but she kept asking.

Bottom line was she felt that my problem was as follows:

I am 37.

My metabolism has slowed.

I eat like crap.

I don't exercise enough.


I told her that I would need a second opinion before making any dietary or physical changes. She respected that. I asked her for a phone number of another physician she would recommend and she obliged.

On the way out the receptionist asked me to pay the $20 co-pay. I told her "I am pretty sure I have been misdiagnosed, so I don't feel that I should pay," and walked out in to the hallway.
I took the elevator one flight down (who was she to say I don't exercise???!!!)

Anyway, when I got the the lobby, I called E and told her what the good doctor had said. "Uh-uh, no way" E said. She continued to stay on the phone with me as I walked through the lobby and when I got to the automatic sliding doors, they would not open. I was still on the phone with E so I said "These fucking doors will not even open!" To which my best friend said "SEE!!! You are so skinny that your weight does not even register to open the doors!"

That is why I love her!!!

Well I stood at the door waving my arms trying to catch the automatic eye so it would open the door.

Nothing worked. So I went back to the concierge and explained that the automatic door was not opening. She said "that is because it is manual, dear, you have to push it."

E heard this and laughed and suggested that maybe I should go back up to the doctor and ask if I had brain damage.

Anyway, when I got home, I called the number my doctor had given me to book another appointment.

After two rings the person on other end picked up and said "Jenny Craig, how may I help you?"

That doctor sure got me!!!!!

Driving Me Crazy

I have been having a LOT of car troubles lately. In fact not only have my car troubles caused inconvenience for me, but also for my mom as I have had to borrow HER car for the better part of a week.

Anyway, to make a very long and boring story short, today was FINALLY the day that I was told my car was ready and I could come pick it up.

I went to the dealership and the gentleman (ha!) told me the cost was $489.

I told him “no way” and explained that I was absolutely NOT going to pay that amount. He got testy with me and just kept getting himself deeper and deeper on what I call my 'Don’t Fuck With Me, You Raging Idiot' list.

The general manager of service came out and asked what was going on. Luckily I had my sunglasses on which always give me the confidence of a rock star and I said to the manager, after his douche bag employee rambled on, “Sir, it is like your employee is trying to say something to me, but all I see are his lips moving but not a whole lot of truth is being said.” (I don’t even know if that makes sense, but I went with it.) I even threw in “I like to be proven wrong. Please do everything you can to prove me wrong, but it will be you guys in the end that will be wrong, I guarantee it.” (I was on a roll, and just could not stop myself.)

At one point I even told the original douche (now there were THREE ganging up on me) “Sir, do not look at me, please look anywhere but in MY direction. I have no respect for you after you have treated me so poorly and I would prefer if you did not even breath in my direction.”

Bottom line is this… I got my $498. charge reduced to $150. I still think that I should not have paid a dime, but after the manager escorted me to my car to look for my extended warranty and made a copy of it, I just wanted to get out of there as fast as I could with any dignity intact.

Wanna know why???

It is because when the manager handed back my packet of papers that he had photocopied, right there on the top was a bill that said 'psychotherapy treatment for the month of June $600.'

I have always been terrible when it comes to organization, and I remembered the day that the therapist handed me the bill I thought “I will just stick it in my glove compartment… who the hell will ever see it?”

Well, the fucking manager of Toyota North in Westchester County saw it, and I have NO doubt that he made copies and circulated it to all the other dick heads that dealt with me today.

Now I need to get a new car. I can never, EVER show my face in there again.

You understand, right??!?!

It's a Hard Knock Life

So today my mom took me to Greenwich for my birthday present. It was a much belated birthday present, but for good reason. See, my mom feels that every stay-at-home mom needs, NEEDS a monogrammed cashmere sweater. And the only place good enough to find said sweater is in Greenwich, Connecticut.

My mom and I went there on my actual birthday but we had to go back because they had to special order my size. Yes people. I am too fat for "off the shelf" in Greenwich, CT. However the day we were there on my birthday we made the color selection of the sweater and monogrammed initials. Navy blue and raspberry sorbet. Well, who am I kidding when I say "raspberry sorbet?" It is Greenwich we are talking about, and the sales woman was quick to translate "raspberry sorbet" to "Cosmopolitan" pink. And I also think she may have made a special note to the monogrammer to use the initials "J" "E" "W".

Anyway, after trying on my size "fat" sweater, all we had left to do was pay, so my mom sent me to the register with her credit card. The total came to $750.

I said to the sales woman, "Oh, no, I am only buying ONE sweater."

To which she said "$750 please."

I said "Are you fucking kidding me?"

To which she said "not at all, you ignorant slut bitch."

Luckily my mom did not hear any of this exchange, as she was too busy trying on sweaters for herself. But I walked over to my mom and said "I am really uncomfortable about this." She said "It is a birthday gift, please just accept it and take care of it."

TAKE CARE OF IT??!!! I am too nervous to wear it, and I am thinking of taking out an insurance policy on it. And by the way, doesn't my mother realize that I am a mother of two young kids and my car not only is a mess and smells like ass, but my house is not much better.

"Take care of it." Who is she fucking kidding?? I give it two days before Ellie gets Elmer's glue all over it with some sort of homemade play dough getting dried on to it.

"Take care of it." I am still (6 hours later) trying to get over the cost of it. The good news is that I have 6-8 weeks to get over the cost because they hand make it in Scotland. And as my very pleasant sales woman told me, "they hand stitch the monogrammed letters, so it is just as beautiful from the inside out." Well, note to the fucking sales lady.... I am not wearing a $750 sweater inside out.

Anyway, the day progressed with my having my car breakdown while driving back from Greenwich, so my mom continued in her car to pick Ellie up from school. While dealing with an absolute panic attack, while driving a car that I thought was going to spontaneously combust at any minute, my cell phone rang. It was my mother PISSED off at me and telling me how irresponsible and lazy I was and that I am clearly the laziest mother around. I still did not know what she was talking about and I was thinking to myself "does this mean no sweater??!!" when I realized just at that moment that I had forgotten to tell my mom that it was pajama day at Ellie's school.

My mom honestly thought that I had sent Ellie to school in pajamas. (Well I did do that once, but that was only because I confused which kid had pajama day at which school.)

Anyway when that mini-crisis ended and my mom met me at the dealership, she drove Ellie and me to pick up Adam from school. We were listening to Annie. Ellie was singing "It's a Hard Knock Life" and my mom said "that's right Ellie, you sing it... These are tough times and it IS a hard knock life."

Uhm, then DON'T BE SPENDING $750 ON A SWEATER FOR ME!!!!!

Anyway, I have to go to bed. I am beyond tired. I learned a couple of important things today: I am fat and I am never going shopping in Greenwich again. Ever. Even sale items started at $500 for crying out loud.

I just hope that if I am wearing my new monogrammed sweater around my mom that no one dares ask if it is J.Crew.

Cheers

Mother of the Week

Okay, so as I write this, Westchester County is again expecting a lot of snow. Somehow I have been elected the local meteorologist by my friends. This has lead to a lot of phone calls and emails inquiring about whether birthday parties should be canceled, dinner parties should be postponed and even one request for where to buy strap-on skis for kids.

(Uhm, for the record, meteorologists do not know the answers to everything.)

However, I do have a live Doppler read on my computer and my blackberry, so I have advised everyone in the greater metropolitan area to cancel all activities.

As for the strap on skis... anything I know about strapping anything on has nothing to do with snow equipment.

*************

I started my week off strong with a visit to my local fishmonger. I love that he complimented my new hair and then went on to say (when I asked him if he liked my belt) "it's really not your belt I'm looking at." This made my day.

(By the way, I am day 6 in to my South Beach Diet and I have lost 5 pounds, so the next time I go back to the fish market, the guy better ask for my number! Of course I will probably need a driver to take me there as the lack of carbohydrates is making me feel very spacey and constantly buzzed. I better lose the 13 pounds in 2 weeks as promised by this diet or I am going to cry.)

Speaking of losing weight, my trainer called me "obese," "a heart attack waiting to happen," and WORST of all, "fake blond." He has told me that 2009 is the year that he wants to get me in shape.

Well, what was I doing all of 2008???!?!!?!?

I told him that "I do not want to be super thin." To which he responded "we are nowhere even close to having that happen."

Nice guy. I got so pissed at him that I terminated my session and told him I was no longer going to work out with him that day. He threatened to fire me, so I said "fine, can I collect unemployment?"

I actually made him spend the last 15 minutes of the session going through my pantry and throwing a lot of food out.

*************

Adam had a good week, he is really growing up fast. He has become quite the manipulator. He cried the first two days of the week because he had to return to school after the vacation. In fairness to him, I am responsible for making him cry because I had SUCH a great two weeks having the kids home that I told them both "Mommy is going to miss you both so much when you go back to school. You will have your friends to play with, but poor Mommy will be home all alone missing the two of you and my heart will be aching." So, I think my ability of applying Jewish guilt works.

By the way, Ellie did not cry when she had to go back to school, she celebrated.

Anyway, as I was saying, Adam cried for the first two days that he went back to school and then on the THIRD day school was canceled due to an ice storm and Adam CRIED because he was supposed to have tennis that day and he was DEVASTATED that there was no school. So what do I do???!?!? (in this time of Depression when we should all be saving money) I called and booked a private lesson for Adam which cost a pretty penny. So, not only did I learn that Adam was full of shit about crying over going to school, I then got suckered in to signing him up for weekly private lessons at the club. He starts on Monday. The only cool thing about it is that Chevy Chase takes lessons at the same time and will play on the court next to Adam.

Speaking of celebrities, I was hired this week to teach private cooking lessons to a local celebrities wife. So that should cover the cost of the tennis lessons. (G-d forbid I actually earn money and SAVE some.)

*************

The previously mentioned ice storm brought on a whole new level of education to me as a meteorologist. I was not understanding how it freezes rain at 29 degrees and not snows. So, kudos to my friend Jen for teaching me about "temperature inversions and cold weather climates." She did a great job at making me understand why it was ice rain and not snow at that temperature (the rain falls as snow from a cloud but then it travels through a different weather front at a high rate of speed and then it enters another (colder) front, becomes supercooled and continues to earth as freezing rain.)

Good stuff. Now tell me why it snowed two days later at 34 degrees!!!!!

*************

Yesterday I was the "mom of the week" for Ellie's class, but due to my drinking on Thursday night, I was a bit hung over and came to Ellie's class totally unprepared for the my duties as "MOTW."

I think I may have reeked a little bit of booze.

I also said to one of the kids "whatever you say, but I think it looks like crap" when he showed off to me a little drawing he was so proud of that he described as being his family.

And when it came to my reading the special book I was supposed to bring in to read to the kids (which I totally forgot), I had the three year olds huddle around me and I did a read aloud of all my emails from my blackberry.

I have no doubt that some of the kids learned a whole new vocabulary from my "book."

Anyway, today is Saturday and I have a LOT to do.... but I just wanted to catch you all up.

Cheers.

Piano Man

Salutations. I hope you all had a happy and safe New Years Eve.

My neighbors two nephews (7 and 12) came over for a play date today. They played indoor basketball with Adam for hours. It was great.

At one point (of the SEVEN HOUR play date) David discovered the piano and started playing songs. Correction. He started playing the ONE song he knew over and over and o*v*e*r again!!!! Finally, I threw some sheet music at him and he tried to learn something new. Ellie stayed in the living room with him the entire time just watching and listening. David came to get me and requested if I would play Billy Joel's "Piano Man." Sure, no problem, I did it.

Ellie was thrilled when I left her and David alone again.

I headed upstairs to catch the last 10 minutes of my soap opera and the effing hockey game was on!!!! So, feeling defeated, I went back down and was serenaded by David singing "Piano Man." He actually sang it out loud. The cheeze factor was at an all time high when Ellie started to fucking dance the most inappropriate dance I have ever EVER seen a three and a half year old do. I was mortified. Thank g-d David's back was to her. He did not see a thing, but I did, and believe me, it has done it's damage.

I pulled Ellie aside and asked her "where did you learn how to dance like that???" and she said "at ballet." Well, note to self... I must observe the next ballet class!!!

Anyway, the play date finally came to an abrupt end after Adam was dropped on the head by the 7 year old.

Hey, it was worth it to have the boys return across the street, even if it was my own kid that had to take one for the team.

So, I am sure you all have your own stories about how you spent the first day of 2009. This was just mine.

Cheers