Find your inner secret

If you have a secret, a regret, a hope, a funny experience, an unseen kindness, a fantasy, a belief, a fear, a betrayal, an erotic desire, a feeling, a confession, or a childhood humiliation and you want to release yourself from it. Reveal it here.

Glad he’s not my type cause me thinks he saw my cooter

So to tell you the truth, my body aches. I have pushed it hard since February and I am feeling the ill effects of not enough rest and recovery. And the thought of October 2 (the day after the marathon) is oh so sweet and can not come fast enough.

After every one of the triathlons I did this summer, I promised myself a massage, which never happened. Now, after completing my last of the season last weekend, I finally took the gift card I had been saving since Christmas and used it today for a deep tissue massage.

Shaun was touted as their best deep tissue guy, so I took him. We discussed my problem areas (feet, hips, shoulders, especially under the shoulder blades) and he asked me if I was open to lying on my side so he could get into my hip area better. As I said “yes” it quickly dawned on me that unlike the Viking’s players he claims to have worked on, they were fully clothed in shorts and workout wear, I was going to be naked in between some sheets. Never the less I disrobed and slipped in.

Now, if you have had this type of massage before you know it is not for the faint of heart. There is no lying down and falling asleep to waterfall music and the gentle laying on of warm hands from the massage therapist. This massage is hard core, sometimes painful with lots of deep breathing just so you can make it through to the next knot…but always well worth the agony.

Shaun started at my shoulders and back, moved to my feet and legs and then went head long into my glutes. This is the part where I am now laying on my side, top leg at a 90 degree angle to my hip, bottom leg straight down and sheet, well that’s the problem…where oh where was the sheet?

Yeah, to be honest, I felt a little uneasy. I had 285 pounds of therapist pouring all his weight into my hip joint with his elbow, up and around the joint, slowly rooting out two knots that where so big that when they released my whole body slumped back down on the table exhausted.

In the midst of being tortured, I got to the point where I no longer cared about my exposed girly parts. I decided that if he was slimy enough to get a rise out of “that” then he would quickly get close enough to notice that I had not been kind enough to shower after my run in technical fibers this morning.

On my bedside table

Over the past several months I have picked up, read parts and put down more books than I can even remember. I use to never do that. If I started a book by all means I was going to finish it. Then I decided that life is too short for bad books.

I really shouldn’t harsh all the books I have put down as of late, it is really more me and the frame of mind that I am in than the book itself. And my hope is that the tide is changing.

This past weekend PJ and I were in the book store and I couldn’t help myself from touching and feeling and flipping even though I was getting pulled-on to go to the children’s section. And in an instant I grabbed Running With Scissors by Augusten Burroughs.

I am only about twenty pages into it so I can’t give you a full review but the first little bit has me laughing out loud all the while feeling very disturbed. It is an odd mix to say the least but has got me sucked in.

Anal retentive stay at home mother’s idea of the day

I make CT’s lunch the night before he goes to school. Last night I made ALL the kids lunches.

By making two more sandwiches last night I saved myself 17 minutes of work today.

I call that brilliant. Sick…but brilliant.

Check it out

Mighty Goods is a shopping weblog that I ran across a few months ago. I love checking in to see what cool stuff I absolutely do not need but once lay my eyes upon really want to have.

Life is always better with friends

PJ started her first day of school yesterday. She went back for her 1st day of her 2nd year of preschool

She is in a class of 13 girls and 1 boy. Could you imagine???

I met ¾ of the girls last year. I met Dante and his parents yesterday. They are either going to pull him out of there as fast as they can or he will be the boy with the “golden ticket” once he realizes the knowledge he could gain. This experience alone may make him the one male on the planet that “knows” women, especially four year old girls.

Donned with a smile, bright pink and more glitter than you could possibly imagine on any one clothing item, PJ faced her first day.

As I walked out of the room, there she sat, sandwiched between friends.

As I drove back into the parking lot I initially couldn’t spot her on the playground. Then I saw them, a whole group of them, lined up in the tunnel sharing secrets, and giggles and friendship on the playground.

How lucky they are.

3 stitches in time

Saturday he got beat-up by a teeter totter.

PJ’s first poem

The sun is up.
It is day.
The sun is down.
It will come back another day.
Thank you very much.

CT was nice enough to tell her that it is not a real poem because it doesn’t rhyme.

Hillbillies on parade

This evening I got to bring all three children to an Open House at CT’s school. We got to see where his desk and locker are, what his classroom looks like, meet his teacher and see all the great stuff he does every day.

With PJ not napping and KP at his bewitching hour, I decided to get there at the beginning of the Open House (5:00pm) instead of the end. And since I was doing it solo I thought a quick in and out would be easier at the earliest possible time.

The four of us walk into the room and meet CT’s teacher, I sign-up for fall conferences and at this point we are the only people in the room. No sooner do I fill out a volunteer hand out sheet then all hell breaks loose. PJ and KP start fighting over the teacher’s pointing stick with a star on the end of it. PJ wins with a swap on the head. I can feel the judgmental stares of the other couple who has entered the room with their one and only child standing nice and quietly behind them.

Once I break up the mayhem I turn to talk to another couple whose child has been in class with CT since pre-school. We exchange niceties, talk soccer and teachers when all of a sudden KP starts beating PJ with the telephone. Screaming, crying, tears, deep heaving breaths from the other parents who have filtered into the room and CT’s teacher as they all watch the insanity of my life unfold at 5:05 pm in CT’s classroom.

My guess is that his teacher thinks either I should not have procreated, that my children have rage issues or that I need some serious parenting classes.

ALWAYS a great way to meet the new teacher!

Food, you need food

Today, on CT’s second day of 1st grade, he came walking home from the bus stop, chin trembling and when he saw me he BURST into tears. He crumbled into my arms and he sobbed and sobbed and then told me his head hurt so bad he thought he was going to throw up.

As the ever worried parent of a 1st grader, I of course thought the worst, he got his feelings hurt by someone, he got bullied, he couldn’t figure out the answer to some “gummy bear math” question or he got off at the wrong bus stop.

After some Motrin and ice to the head and dinner, we were able to talk about his day: a day that was filled with fun, math, gym, chasing girls, no confrontations and best of all no problems. And as we were talking, I was unpacking his lunch. A lunch that had only two bites out of it. When I asked him why he ate so little he said, “Well mom, they don’t give me enough time to eat and did I tell you I WAS THE THIRD KID ON THE PLAYGROUND!”

And if you are wondering, the answer is YES..Yes, recess comes right after lunch.