Just another week.

Oh, the things that I never dreamed of...Last night, Maiz was in the bathtub grunting and, um, farting (I'm sorry if you say "fluff" in your house, but it's my blog, so please deal).  We were like, "Do you need to poop?  Why don't you sit on the potty?"  

NOTE:  Maizie is entirely "potty" trained.  Yes, potty only.  She has yet to go numero dos in the potty.  No matter what type of bribing, cajoling, lawyering, or bargaining I do, she refuses.  She'll be ten before she does it, I think.

Anyway, she decided to "try," which was more than she's done before.  We, of course, didn't think she'd do it until she calls "I did it!!!"

Um, hmmm...

"I pooped and it's in the potty!" "I get my cash register!"  (The stakes for pooping are high).  

I will say is that it was very large AND in her potty.

Picked up and placed there by her.

Gotta love it.  

IN other news, here's what happened at McDonald's today.  We (me, my baby bag-it's like another toddler, Iris, and Maizie) are going in the door, and while I'm trying to "herd cats" inside, I open the door right into Maizie's forehead.  She is knocked on the floor and is "silent screaming," so I figure I have 10-12 seconds before I'm noticed (when she finally takes a breath and REALLY screams).  Of course, people are waiting to get out, and those McDonald's foyers are so huge, not to mention that they could cook their fries in there it's so hot, and we're all on the floor.  I somehow manage to get everyone (baby bag 

included) inside and to the counter. 

"Hi, she just hit her head and I need some ice."

They hand me a cup.

"Um, more like an ice pack."

But, the minute she hears ice pack (by this time my 12 seconds have passed and she's screaming like a banshee), she squirms off the counter and onto the floor and starts running around the McDonald's, flinging herself into retirees booths.  It was like a strange game show. 

"Owie....OWWWWW...I don't wanna ice pack!  AHHHHH!!!  OWWW!!!"

And EVERYONE is staring at us.  And NO ONE is helping.  And if I were to blink I would cry.

Finally, a frail old lady offers to hold fat, grumpy Iris 

while I calm Crazy down.  And I think, this can't possibly end well.  And over the hunched shoulder of the lady (VERY sweet, though), I see a ma

n bring a high chair.  

And then a McDonald's employee (female, and I am assuming mother), brings out an ice cream cone.  And the nice old lady stayed with them while I ordered. 

So it ended okay.

Here's the damages.  Check out her forehead.  

Maizie...Brown?

I was explaining to Maizie that she has a long name...that she has a first name, a middle name, and a last name, too.  

"Well...whaaat is it?"  With those big blue-gray eyes.

"It's Maizie Daniele Brown.  Maizie Brown." 

Pause

Staring at me.

Brow furrowing.

"No...mom...it isn't.  I'm not Maizie Brown." 

(I could have predicted what was coming next.)

"I'm just Maizie PINK."

Core Foods

So I've succumbed to peer pressure and have changed my eating habits. It's funny that peer pressure would cause me to eat vegetables, but people, it's intense. 

Anyway, I'm following the Weight Watchers Core program, and if you know what that is, you can gasp in disbelief.  If you don't know what it is, I'll sum it up for you. Spinach, oatmeal, hard-boiled eggs, and popcorn.  Of course, there's more to it than that.  But you get the picture.  All "whole" foods, no breads, processed foods or, um, chocolate.  I can have whole wheat noodles and as much aspartame as I want.  And I'm struggling terribly with envy.

See, my husband is the person that the artist who first drew stick figures was thinking about.  The man can eat whatever, and I mean, whatever he wants.  He is so supportive, though, and follows the plan with me, mostly.  When it gets inconvenient, he gives in to things like Butter Burgers and gummy bears.  Not what I would be eating if eating caused no consequences, but whatever.  

But I finally think he gets it.  He said to me, "I have never had to think about anything that I put into my mouth before, and it totally sucks."   I have never thought about not thinking about it. Everything I eat is thought about.  Whether it's good thoughts or guilt thoughts.  Everything. It's been that way as long as I can remember.  And I am so sick of it.  I'm so tired of food being a big deal.  I would love to just be done with it.  I can't help but wonder why I struggle so bad with this!  

To paraphrase Dr. Phil (yes, I really like him, so bear with me for a moment), "there has got to be some payoff for the behavior to continue."  As destructive as my fat behavior is, I am getting some payoff to continuing to do it after all these years. I could get deeply into this, but know that the bottom line is simple.  It feels good.  

And isn't that always a payoff? It feels good to do whatever I want, whenever I want, with no regard to how it's hurting others or how it is self-destructive.  And especially no regard to God's parameters and HIS view on the issues, I mean, he is invisible and he will forgive me...right?  

So, this is why I am eating so much oatmeal and popcorn.  Because it matters so much less than me obeying God.  How in the world can I expect my daughters to exhibit self control when their mom totally does whatever she wants?  It is probably as hard for Maizie to sit on her blanket for thirty minutes as it is for me to say "no thanks" to food that isn't really fueling me.  She's two!  She has a physical need to be running around like crazy, and yet I'm teaching her that she must be still once in a while. And while I'm manning the timer, I'm chomping on cookies and guzzling Diet Coke like a Pharisee.  But please note, the Diet Coke will be the last thing to go, okay?

Much Better

Last night, after feeling so terrible, I decided to make a change.  This is really all it takes most of the time, is for me to do something about my situation and chose to be better.  So I got Maizie all dressed in her pink butterfly galoshes, green jammie pants, & purple raincoat, and gave her my purple Disney World parasol.  Then I got Iris all bundled up and put her in the carrier, and outside in the rain we went.  I took them to the back of the parking lot for the shops (which were mostly closed) next door and she went crazy puddle hopping.  It was cold and wet, but finally, we were having fun and not battling about everything.  I wish I'd have had my camera, because she was so cute out there soaking wet with my "brella," which was way too big for her.  I'll just have to remember it like they did in the old days, I guess.  Write it down.

I didn't think I was going to get her inside, but she finally fell down and got soaked, and I said "Maizers, we better go in and get all dried off."  And she was like "Yeah, it's okay, we better get all dried off and have a snack."  So in we went, to eat popcorn and drink hot, well, warm chocolate.  And I finally got my heart aligned in the truth.  

Just draggin

You know that you're having a bad night when you binge on green sprinkles and baby food pears, b/c they are the only thing sweet in your house and you're too tired to load up the kids and trek out in the rain to get some real binge food, like hostess cupcakes or .   And even if you were energized enough to do that, you can't imagine spending three dollars b/c frankly, you just can't be throwing that kind of money around.  So, there's plenty to be thankful in that. 

I'm trying to reflect on the joys of motherhood, but today is one of those days that I can't seem to get my heart caught up into the truth of what God really has blessed me with.  I keep looking at the to-dos, and the what-ifs, and the spit-ups.  (I've been walking around a pile of baby spit-up that is on the floor for a couple of hours now b/c I just don't want to bend down to pick it up).  And the fact that I finally got around to spending ten dollars on a shirt for myself that actually fits my post baby body and day two it has a hole in it that I have to stitch b/c I lost the receipt and can't return it and pretend like I had nothing to do with it when me and the clerk would both know that I did.  I know that was a run on sentence, I'm too tired to push shift and try to find the proper punctuation under my grabby baby who is sitting on my lap grabbing everything on the desk.  

But she sure is cute, though.

And really, what am I complaining about?  I live in the United States and I have so much food that I have cupcake sprinkles in my pantry.  And my baby girls are allowed to live and grow up. And I have a computer, of all things, that cost as much as it costs to feed 20 kids for a whole year in Haiti.  And my husband is nice to me.  And he's addicted to nothing (except Dr. Pepper).      

Generosity

I am feeling thankful for a lady at our church, who has a set of girl twins and gives me one half of their clothes.  I have not had to buy one thing for Maizie in the last year b/c of her generosity.  I feel like I should buy them from her, some of the clothes have never been worn or worn very little.  It is all so very nice, and I am incredibly thankful that she is sharing.  On that note, I only take clothes from her and one other gal.  The first year of Maizie's life, I had people dumping clothes on me, like I'm a goodwill.  And while that is great, I don't want all the really worn out, um, "retro" clothes.  But these two women are really great.  The other woman is a great friend, and not only has she given me clothes for Maizie, but she's also given me maternity clothes, a cradle, and various other things.  I've been given so much for my kids, and then I feel like such a hypocrite, b/c it is hard for me to be that generous.  There is a family that is struggling to make ends meet who attends our church.  I know I need to give them something, but I can be so darn selfish!   And not like, "there is no way that they deserve anything," but more like "I need to spend all my money on our family."  There is a toy I REALLY want to buy Maizie, it's $30, (it's a PatPatRocket from Little Einsteins), and this family could really use that money for necessities.  And Maizie hasn't even asked for the toy!  

We'll see where this goes.  

Brownies-YUM!

I happen to like Brownies.  Not the little girl kind, but the chocolaty, gooey, warm, fudgey, three-WW-points-per-serving, YUMMY kind.  Other than brownies, the last name "Brown" has nothing cute associated with it.  It's pretty standard.  Well, I guess there's "Brown vs. board of education," which was an important court case, but did not convey exactly what I wanted the name of my Blog to convey.  I think that you could understand this.  And I almost named it "sockmonkeyland," just because I like sock monkeys, I think that they're funny, but before I hit "return" I realized I own not a one sock monkey.  Not even a miniature sock monkey.  So I was stuck trying to spin off of my last name.  "Brown."  Pretty ho-hum.  And Brownies, unless made well, can also be ho-hum. 

So, not sure what the point of this Blog is, just wanted to make sure that we were all on the same page.  I'm not eating little Girl Scouts, okay?