So we took our annual trip to Kalahari Resorts and Indoor Water Park, which is always a blast. As a mother it’s my “job” to watch my kids and make sure they don’t fall into a pool, or get taken by the gypsies. I don’t know who these gypsies are but I know they’re out there waiting to steal you. At least that’s what Mom used to tell me. Anyway, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to dedicate any time to watching my kids when there are more urgent situations at stake. Like the swim up Jacuzzi bar.
Also, every few steps I had to bend over to make sure my vagina wasn’t falling out of my bathing suit. I kept feeling a draft, and I got paranoid that my girl goodies were going to make a surprise appearance. Then I kept asking my husband how my ass looked, because gravity is a bitch. The second I stopped doing the insanity workout, my tush resumed it’s natural position three inches lower than I want it. Then my husband fell asleep in the lounge chair so I had to ask the three year old for booty reassurance. I asked the kid ONE time how my butt looked and he stared at me like I was absolutely insane. Then there was the nipple issue. I was cold and wet and needed to make sure that both of them were pointing in the same direction. There’s nothing more awkward than two nipples pointing in opposite directions. It’s distracting, like lizard eyes. So I kept blatantly looking down at my girls, because there’s really no way to discreetly do it. People probably thought I was being narcissistic and I wanted to explain “No, I actually hate myself, it’s just a simple nipple check!” I finally gave up and put my daughter in charge. I told her if she noticed my nipples going rogue she needed to let me know so I could line them back up. She asked if she could have a more socially acceptable chore, like scrubbing toilets or doing dishes. Whatever. Next year I’m going in a wetsuit.
Well 2013 was an amazing year! I managed to stay out of prison for the 36th consecutive year in a row, my husband hasn’t smothered me in my sleep, yet. AND I was able to put off my first mammogram.
I took a look at last years resolutions and had a good laugh. I never actually follow through with any of my resolutions. The only reason I make them in the first place is because of peer pressure. All the cool people are doing it. I make my resolutions before midnight on the 31st and by 2 a.m. I’ve already forgotten what I resolved to do. So I’ve discovered a different way to do resolutions that may work better for me. 12 Months 12 Challenges. Instead of cramming a million resolutions into the whole year, I’ll break it down month by month. Baby steps.
For January’s challenge, I’m simplifying my house using a book called 30 Days to a Simpler Life by Connie Cox & Chris Evatt. Clearly Connie and Chris have never been to my home. It’s going to take me 30 days just to simplify my closet. I’m thinking about getting rid of the majority of my husbands clothes. That’ll be easier than parting with my own. I’ll let you know how it goes.
In the meantime, I wish you all a safe and happy new year, filled with love, health, and lots of sparkly things. Thanks for sticking with me through 2013!
What about you? What kind of resolutions do you have planned?
Look at those angry eyebrows!
So this is Puck (as in hockey puck), the newest addition to the Rochon household. Aside from eating cat poop, he’s very smart and follows basic commands. In addition, he understands “Puck drop” “Puck no” and “Puck off”. He is part German Shepherd, and part Shar Pei.
See? Shar Pei.
He’s adorable, he’s cuddly, and he poops. A LOT. We got Puck at six weeks old and so of course he’s not potty trained at all. At first I was all “Awww, he’s jus’ a widdow puppy!” Six weeks later I’m like “Why the hell won’t this demon spawn just shit outside?”
The three-year old was standing next to me one time when I found a stinky little gift the puppy left for me on the bedroom floor. I yelled across the house to my husband “PUCK SHIT ON THE FLOOR AGAIN!” My son looks up at me and with the biggest, bluest eyes he says very matter of fact…”I don’t do that. I shit in the potty.”
A lot has been happening here at the Rochon household including but not limited to: finals week, a career path change, a new puppy, finding a few gray hairs on my head, homeschooling, and a son that has decided to join the Marines (which I’m pretty sure explains the gray hair) . So I pop in the Yoga for stress relief. As I’m laying on the ground in a very calming stretch, the puppy is playing tug-of-war with my hair at the same time the toddler is shoving what I hope to God was a raisin into my mouth. So I’ve decided that instead of Yoga for stress relief, I’m just going to start drinking wine a little earlier in the day. Maybe instead of my morning coffee.
Typically I like to keep things light and funny here at Lisa’s Rant, but there’s drama happening, and since I have this outlet I figured I’d reach out to people for hope.
I’ve known people who’ve suffered tremendous, unthinkable losses and my heart has broken for them. I’ve lost people who I cared about, but I’ve never lost anything, or anyone, that changed my day-to-day life. Until last Monday when my dog died very suddenly of liver problems. It happened in less than four hours. This is so much harder than I thought it would be. If I’m being honest, I don’t even really like dogs. (Sorry to my dog lovers out there, I’m a total cat person) My Jack was the one exception.
He was always there. Seriously…always. Now that he’s gone I can see what a huge part of this family he was and how much I took him for granted. I was so used to having him around that I never imagined he wouldn’t be here. He was our security, our protector, our non judgmental friend. Our foot warmer, our goofball, our hiking partner…and I miss him so much. I felt like I was being melodramatic at first. It’s just a dog, right? No. He was a part of my family, a big part of my life. He thought I was awesome, even after he’d seen me dance. Every part of my daily routine reminds me that he’s not here.
I believe in reincarnation. I believe we travel in “soul families”. I also acknowledge that I could be wrong as death is something I don’t know much about. Really I haven’t ever thought of it much until this past week. Now I can’t get it off my mind. Does it hurt? Is it scary? Is there anything past this existence, really? Since this death I’m dealing with is a dog’s death I’m over here wondering things like does he miss us? What did he see when he died? Does he still exist? Can he reincarnate and come home? Would he even want to? Would I know if he did?
It’s so easy to get wrapped up in the fear and sadness. I’m always really good at knowing what I need and how to help myself no matter what the situation is. But this time I just feel completely out of control and helpless.
I believed in reincarnation before my dog passed. It makes sense to me. But I never considered the possibility of a dog reincarnating multiple times in a human’s lifetime. I just assumed we’d meet up in the afterlife and plan our next adventure together. But now I’m clinging obsessively to the idea of reincarnation. Coping mechanism? Probably. But it’s hope…and you know what? I’ll take it.
I miss my dog. This house is depressingly empty without him.
5. If she spends an hour in the bathroom getting ready, be sure to roll your eyes when she comes out and let her know how inconvenienced you are. Under no circumstance should you ever tell her she’s beautiful. Ever.
4. Buy a smart phone. Never put it down. If she ever notices that you are more deeply connected with your electronics than you are with her, immediately blame it on PMS and then resume bonding with your iPhone.
3. No physical and/or emotional connections should be made with her at any time. Cease holding hands, hugging, flirting, joking and any kissing of any kind. If you absolutely must kiss, then kiss her like you kiss your grandma. No passion allowed.
2. When she enters a room, don’t look up at all. Let her feel how invisible she is to you and to the rest of the world.
1. When you look at her, never really see her. When you listen to her, don’t ever hear her. And when you touch her, don’t feel it in the depths of your soul.
In any long-term relationship it’s so easy to take things for granted. Married life is still life…with all of its simplicity and boredom. And while nobody likes to think about sad things, the fact is that in the long run, no matter how much you love somebody, you’ll have to let them go. I like to think we’ll all be reunited somewhere in the afterlife. Preferably somewhere warm and sparkly, with lots of chocolate and wine. But before the reunion we’ll have to separate, to say good-bye, to let go and face life alone. Love passionately now. Not tomorrow when you’re less tired or feeling better. Tomorrow isn’t a guarantee.
Before my husband and I got married, we attended a church service at the church we were to be married in. It was a nice church, but it was the only mass we went to. Apparently it’s “inappropriate” to stand up and yell “I object!” while the priest is preaching. Anyway, we met this older man who made his way over to us and shook our hands. He was very welcoming, and in making small talk we told him of our wedding plans. He smiled and told us that he and his wife had been married for sixty years before she passed away. My husband said “Wow, that was a long time to be married”, to which the man replied “No it wasn’t.”
So a blogger friend Julie, over at Ramblings From Jewels, is always posting beautiful pictures of her garden. (I love her blog, you should check it out!) She says gardening is her therapy. I can relate in a way, because of gardening I may need therapy.
When I started my garden I had images of myself smiling and harvesting fresh produce, but what I actually ended up with was me straddling one of the garden boxes dumping an entire bottle of Palmolive dish soap on the garden and then turning the jet hose on to create an enormous amount of bubbles while laughing maniacally. Let me explain…
I’m convinced that aphids are Satan‘s minions. Those tiny little effer’s were eating my plants alive. We read that ladybugs like to eat aphids, so we bought 1,500+ ladybugs and released them into our ladybug friendly garden. The ungrateful bastards left. I got a text from my friend who lives across the street. She sent a picture of a ladybug on her ceiling with a note that said “I believe this belongs to you.” I’m not sure where the rest of them ended up, but we are going to refer to it as the Ladybug incident of 2013.
We think our million man ant army had something to do with chasing away our ladybugs. Turns out that ants protect aphids in exchange for honeydew. Honeydew sounds delicious, but it’s actually just aphid shit. In exchange for protection, the aphids will shit in the ants mouth. That is messed up.
So our line of thinking was, get rid of the majority of the ants and then the aphids will disappear. Mission accepted. I tried organic methods. I read on Pinterest that ants hate peppermint oil. I’m not sure which ants they surveyed to get this information, but the ants in my garden didn’t mind the oil at all. I’m pretty sure it was just aroma therapy for them. I also read on Pinterest that ants don’t like cornmeal. I sprinkled some around hoping that the cornmeal would mess up their scent trails, causing them such inconvenience they would move out of my garden. Turns out I just gave them a free meal. I got rid of Pinterest since it was full of nothing but filthy lies. I tried organic pest control and I swear I could almost hear the ants laughing at me. Laughing at me! At this point nothing in this part of the garden was growing except for the giant resorts the ants were building, so I thought I’d use some hard-core, non organic poison to get rid of a good number of these guys. Every local garden center recommended Seven. So I bought two bottles of this powder to dump on my four by eight garden. The black dirt was nothing but white powder when I was done. I thought I had them. Until the next morning when I woke up and found that they had used the poison powder to rebuild the ant mounds I had destroyed. Now I understand how these tiny freaks of nature have been around since the days of the dinosaur. It was at this point that I grabbed the dish soap in my last desperate attempt to kill them because someone told me dish soap kills ants. Why is everybody messing with my head? Anyway, I basically ended up creating a day spa for these ants. Screw it. I decided to let them live in my garden.
And just when I’ve accepted that bugs will rule my garden, I find out that plants can have and spread diseases. My tomato plants are currently feeling under the weather. Really? Next year I’m going to have a rock garden instead.