Things That Must Go XV

1. Cyclists in the Road. Okay so Northwest Arkansas has two unique features;
a. skinny roads with no shoulders
b. tons of running/cycling trails
You would think that A. would lead to people using B. but there are always jerky cyclists slowing down traffic in Bella Vista. Bella Vista, by the way, is the worst city for no shoulders. I do believe that all the roads were measured for 1.5 cars instead of 2 which often requires you to pull off into trees or off the road entirely when a car comes in the opposite direction. This is NO place for cyclists. I really hate these guys, I don't want to hit them with my car, but I do want to roll down my window and push them over!

2. 4 Way Stop Idiots. It is bad enough that people don't know how to handle a 4 way stop, but what I really loathe is the guy who comes up after me and then waves me forward as if they are being sooooo gracious. You aren't giving me anything it is my turn to go!

3. Sudden Service Changes. Recently our garbage pick up has changed from 6-7 in the morning to 4 in the afternoon. No warning, they just suddenly started coming in the afternoon. Now because it was a shift to later it didn't per say cause me any immediate problems, but that's not the point. For several weeks we weren't sure if it was a one time thing or permeate. And now I live in a constant wonder of if they changed it once so suddenly how do I know they won't do it again.

4. CBS. Ever since Dr. Quinn went off the air when I was a kid, I have had little if no reason to watch CBS. I do not find forensic science as fascinating as the rest of America. But in the last year Jeff and I have discovered The Big Bang Theory, and I have totally gotten into the Good Wife. The problem is that CBS is the only freaking network that doesn't have shows on Hulu or Netflix. You have to watch them on CBS.com which is a horrible website which often won't show the episodes at all.

Who Spiked My Drink?

So when I was nursing Max I had enough milk to feed an entire village. It was excessive and a bit of a pain to always be wet. He did take formula occasionally but not alot. I nursed him for eight months. With Mae I had enough milk for her and that was it. We nursed together for about eight months also. Hmmm that seems to be my limit. Spike sucks at nursing and not in a good way. That boy does not want to stay awake to eat and because of that he eats for a few mins, takes and nap then wants to eat again as soon as he awakens. I end up nursing all day long and he still isn't satisfied. Grrr... My milk supply is suffering because of this which of course doesn't help matters. I went to a lactation consultant and it helped a bit, but the main problem is still Spike. I want to quit. I really do. I keep telling myself three months. I can make it to three months I'm already half way there. But I totally feel like a quitter. I know I am not and I really hate myself for feeling that way, but I do. I would like to give props to my family and friends though all of them have been really supportive. Everyone is encouraging me to quit if I want to. I hate feeling like a quitter. Believe it or not, once I get started with something, I am usually fairly good and enduring til the end, or at least pushing myself longer and harder then I want to. My big problem is getting something started in the first place. So what am I going to do? I honestly don't know. Keep going til something happens and I snap. (Not in a bad or dangerous way, just in a "I'm done!" way.) I'm pretty suprised it didn't happen when I had a cold last weekend and really wanted to take some cold medicine.


On another note, someone noted that all my kids names are also words. Yup, not planned, but true. Probably not a good things since I absolutely LOVE puns.

Aaaah! My Area!

This post is dedicated to all those who need a bit of good cheer this week.
My sister Krista and I fell in love with the show Mystery Science Theater 3000 when we were in high school. It was a Comedy Central show that made fun of old movies. In one episode they made fun of a movie called "I Accuse My Parents." In the episode some guy is hit below the belt and the commentators yell out, "Ahh my area!" Yes, it is a lame joke, but like many lame jokes it has stayed with my sister and I for the past decade or so.
When the time came for me to teach Max how to talk, I just slipped in "my area" as the phrase for private parts. It seemed like a good phrase for a small kid. I am not a big fan of hearing kids scream out anatomically correct words at the playground. And yes, I do get a small kick out of hearing the old joke.
My friend was familiar with Max's peculiar vocabulary and sent me the following message via facebook a few months back.

Now that I've grown accustomed to Max referring to his man parts his "area", all tornado disaster news coverage has become quite comical.

LIVE from Joplin:

-"My area is trashed"

-"this area is going to take a long time to recover after that type of blow"

-"We'd been going along thinking we had our area covered, but the wind picked up and things turned ugly real fast"

-"You try to get ready, and prepare your whole life for it, but after years with no action, you start to wonder if your area is ever gonna get hit. I think I had myself convinced it would never happen."

Is is a bit crude? Probably. Too soon? Maybe? Funniest thing that I have ever read? Hell Yes! To this day I cannot get through this without laughing so hard I cry.

Earning His Name

Spike is a fairly good natured baby, but we learned this week that he has a tough side. He had his first full bath this week and while I could tell he didn't like it, he didn't cry either. Spike just lay there with his fists all balled up waiting for it to be over. As you can see from his picture he is also a bit protective of the bottle. Little guy gets a bottle a day because my milk isn't doing it for him, (not that he is blameless, he is not a great nurse.) I was tempted to title this post, "Stay away from my bottle or I'll cut you," cause really that is what it looks like he is thinking. And thus we see that the attitude associated with a name like Spike suits this little guy pretty well.

Heritage

So did you know that I am more native American then anything else? Yup, I bet you could tell just by looking at my red hair, blue eyes, and pasty skin. I always get a kick out of driving through Indian territory on my way to Tulsa. Determined to beat a dead horse, I always call my mom from there and tell her I am communing with her people. (She's a 16th Cherokee.) The amazing thing about North West Arkansas is that we have a lot of Native Americans due to our closeness to Oklahoma and we have a lot of India Indians due to Walmart's recruiting for their IT department. So Jeff and I often have to specify whether we are talking about an Gandhi or a Sitting Bull Indian. Caught these bumper stickers a few months ago outside a Tuesday Morning and had to take a picture. Rock On Man!

Purple People Eater

So if you'll remember when we bought our house the dining room had nasty wall paper that was missing some sections due to the window into the kitchen that the previous owner had created. Taking the paper off was a pain in the butt. I now have the greatest of sympathies for people who have to remove wall paper. The worst part was the bottom half of the walls that had a textured paper. It left a fuzzy texture on the walls. So because we couldn't get all the walls completely flat we decided to texture the walls. (Also because every other wall in the house is textured and it would have been weird to have just the one room without texture.) After much pondering I decided to paint the room Purple. It was supposed to be more gray purple, but we actually like the purple purple best. It was quite a leap of faith. For about two weeks after I kept thinking purple? Really? But I think that all things considered it has turned out quite nice. Now all the rooms upstairs look finished leaving only the basement.

Addicted

Mae comes from a long line of addicts. I do believe that I was weaned from formula to diet Pepsi.

But at least she is willing to share.