Urine For A Treat

In case you’ve been waiting with sweet anticipation, I thought I should let you know that I was able to deliver the big orange bottle of urine to the lab without incident.

There are just some sentences you never thought you’d write on your blog.

And here’s where I must admit that I contemplated taking a picture of the big orange bottle in my fridge to share here on the blog.

And all I could think about was, “REALLY, JULIE?” and thought better of it.

You’re welcome!

When I arrived at the lab, I was hopeful that it wouldn’t be full of people. I just knew everyone in that joint would be gawking at me and it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that, OH LOOK, THAT CHICK IS CARRYING A PEE JUG UP IN HERE.

I’ve heard the older you get, the less you care what people think. I guess you need to be older than 39 for that to happen.

Much to my relief, there wasn’t one single soul in the waiting room.

Sweet hallelujah.

I sat down and waited for my name to be called. Once I made it back to registration, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was able to get in and out without being seen with the pee jug.

And now?

I wait.

I wait for some poor sap to analyze that mess.

I hate to wait.

And then I wait for my appointment next Friday when the Doctor will hopefully deliver some good news.

And then I WAIT to see if I ever get another dang kidney stone.

Have I mentioned that I absolutely HATE to wait?

I was not wired to wait.

Seriously, I suck at it.

It just dawned on me that using “suck” on the blog isn’t very ladylike.

My momma always said, “I’m trying to raise a lady, not a street urchin!” So, just to be clear, she would want me to tell you that I’ve been raised better.

And I have.

And now that I’m a mother myself, I get it.

I really get it.

There is rarely a day that goes by that I don’t find myself shaking my head in disbelief. Some days, I sound exactly like my mother.

  • You know better.
  • Did you just roll your eyes at me?
  • Are you crazy?
  • If you slam that door one more time…
  • Look at me when I’m talking to you.
  • What were you thinkin’?
  • You better watch that mouth.
  • This hurts me worse than it hurts you.
  • Because I said so. (Oh sweet mercy, I hated this one!)
  • PICK UP YOUR JUNK!
  • You will understand this one day.
  • As long as you’re under my roof, you will listen to me.
  • Quit running in and out!
  • Do you hear me?
  • Someday, I hope you have a kid just like you. (HEY MOM! I GOT HIM ALRIGHT!)
  • I will not tell you again. (Except I probably will)
  • I want this room cleaned up! (One time my mom told me to do this, I crammed everything that was in my floor into my drawers and into my closet. When I returned home from a friend’s house later that day, I walked into my room to discover that she had dumped every. single. thing. from my dresser drawers in the middle of my floor. You best believe I never did that again!)

And last week, as I was cleaning Stevie and Alex’s rooms, I had to chuckle because I realized this thing had come full circle.

I am a mother. Who is like her mother. I now understand why she hounded me about cleaning my darn room.

And don’t think dumping the drawers on the floor never crossed my mind, because oh yes ma’am, it certainly did!

But instead, I cleaned and I organized.

And I will wait.

Because I know it won’t be long until their rooms are a hot mess. Again.

And I will no doubt say, “PICK UP YOUR JUNK!” followed by, “I want this room cleaned up!” And then I will ask, “Do you hear me?”

And when my little darlings attempt to ask, “WHY?”

I will respond with ”Because I said so!”

It’ll happen.

Just you wait.

My New Pal

I cleaned like a crazy person today. Actually, I cleaned and danced like a crazy person today. I had some clutter to put away, three week’s worth of mail to sort through, and some decor to change out. I linked up my iPhone with the bluetooth wireless speaker that McDaddy got for Christmas, blasted some Third Day, Toby Mac, and Selah and I went to town swarping papers, cleaning countertops, putting dishes away and sweeping the floors. I danced and cleaned for 45 minutes. My heart was banging and I had sweat. So, that’s good, right?

It felt good knowing that I was cleaning my house while also getting in some exercise.

A few days ago, I asked for your help with finding a good calorie tracking APP. Several of you suggested My Fitness Pal, which I downloaded today.

Y’all.

I was thrilled that it was so easy to use.

When I ate two pieces of Pepperidge Farm toast for lunch, I was able to scan the bar code on the bread-bag and the APP spit out the nutrition information.

Boom, just like that.

And after I cleaned and danced like a crazy person, I input that information into the cardio tab on the APP and was surprised that the APP adjusted and allowed for more caloric intake.

Later in the evening I did 15 minutes of Wii Fit. The advanced step and free run was listed alongside of their calories burned info. It was quick and easy to put the info in.

There was just one slight problem.

My new Fitness Pal wasn’t so friendly on our first day as pals.

It appears that I shot my caloric wad by more than 400.

Looks like I shoulda’ cleaned and danced like a crazy person for about seventy more minutes.

Or skipped breakfast.

Phew.

I was even more depressed when I put McDonald’s big breakfast with hotcake into the APP just to see how many calories it would cost me if I decided to go that route the next time I meet the girls at McDonalds for breakfast. As it turns out, they don’t call it BIG BREAKFAST with hotcakes for nothing. That little bit of greasy Heaven will cost you 1100 calories. Or in my case, just a little less if you forgo the greasy hashbrown.

Eleven friggin’ hundred.

OUT OF 1500.

Which means I’d have to eat two cheese slices for lunch and a two bananas for dinner.

Dang.

The BIG BREAKFAST with the hotcakes is history.

If you’re on My Fitness Pal, look me up. I suppose it would be fun to add friends, so long as My Fitness Pal doesn’t offer up my three numbers or rat me out when I fall off the biggest la-ooser wagon and eat a sleeve of thin mints.

I suppose My Fitness Pal worked for me!

Me and My Crazy

Yesterday after school McDaddy got the big idea to take Stevie skiing. There is a ski resort roughly 90 miles from our house that offers night skiing and so this evening excursion has been in the planning stages for some time now. Since learning to ski, Stevie has only been three or four other times which is fine with me because OHMYGOSH THE DANGER.

Earlier in the day McDaddy crammed some articles of clothing for the two of them in a bag and threw it in the truck. Had I been the one organizing the trip, I would have made a list twelve days ago that included such things as, two changes of clothes for everyone in attendance, plus two pair of shoes, snacks, car toys, electronic devices, tissues, drinks and extra underwear. But alas, this was ‘their deal’ and it required nothing of me except a promise to Alex that the two of us would do something special.

After having dinner at the iHop (Alex’s favorite because he loves pancakes and one of my favorites because they offer a military discount) he asked if we could stop at K-Mart so that he could exchange a Batman toy that he received for Christmas for one that he didn’t have. I picked up a new mop, two kitchen rugs and a gallon of milk.

Before heading home we made one last stop – this time to Lowes - because I got it in my head that the interior side of our front door needed a new coat of yellow paint. The Valspar display overwhelmed me mostly because I have no idea about the differences in latex, flat, semi-gloss, and satin finishes. To top that off, there were at least fifty shades of yellow and none of them seemed to really grab me. Instead, I grabbed a handful of samples and started toward the door. As I was walking past, the blues caught my attention. Within minutes I was at the cash register paying for a quart of blue paint called Wellspring.

This little scenerio is a prime example of what happens when McDaddy is not around to talk me down from the ledge. I make crazy decisions that I have no business making without a 48-hour waiting period. Confident in my decision, I hurried home, anxious to slap a coat of paint on the door and take my new mop for a test drive.

Make no mistake people, I lead a crazy exciting life.

Between the paint fumes and the white vinegar/bleach cocktail I used on my floors, I was a hot mess.

Y’all.

I think I had a buzz.

Not only that, but before the paint on the door was dry, I was kicking myself because THE BLUE IS SO MUCH DARKER THAN THE YELLOW and mainly because I knew better. My crazy surprises even me sometimes. 

As I hammer out this post I am coming down from my high.

Batman and his bat-cycle are glad to be out of the K-Mart toy department.

The jury is still out on the door.

All McFellas are tucked safely in their beds.

Our kitchen floor sparkles like a shiny diamond.

Libman makes a real good mop.

The kitchen rugs look wonderful, just as I suspected.

My eyes are burning from the bleach.

And my head is still spinning.

All in that order.

Night y’all.

Not So Easy Off

On Wednesdays, I usually share a tip that works for me.

Today, Kristen is changing up Works For Me Wednesday, and we are asked to share something that doesn’t work for us.

The stubborn spots on my stove top do NOT work for me. 

I love our stove, I really do. But these stubborn spots drive me insane.

Over the years, I’ve purchased countless stove top products in hopes of ridding our stove of stubborn spots.

I’ve scrubbed. I’ve wiped. I’ve scraped. I’ve washed. I’ve sprayed. I’ve magic erased. And I’ve rubbed.

My current arsenal consists of:

I have also used vinegar, baking soda, and plain soapy water.

Still, the spots remain…

What works for you?

My OCD sent me a thank you card today

I am an organizer by nature.

Which is funny because my the stuff in my head is anything but organized, as is obvious if you’ve spent any amount of time around here.

That’s not to say that my house is always organized and tidy. It means instead, that I just function better when things are as they should be. For that reason, I spent two hours cleaning out my closet yesterday. I’ve walked into the closet several times today just to look at it and smile.

In fact, my OCD sent me a thank you card today.

After that, I purged 14 pairs of shoes and STILL have more shoes than any one person (myself included!) needs.

Next, I changed purses because that’s what I do when the wind blows I get bored.

Next on my list is cleaning out the kids’ dresser drawers and closets. We have more than several shirts and pants that need to be removed and placed in the “to be sold at Lil’ Lambs” tote because they are two inches too short for either kid. Truth be told I could rid my closet of several pants and shirts because, you know, our dryer enjoys shrinking my britches. But we won’t even go there because McDaddy insists there is absolutely nothing wrong with our dryer. Ahem.

And speaking of McDaddy, he called me yesterday and I thought maybe he had hit his head on something because he mentioned the words sell and jeep in the same sentence.

I’ll give you a minute to let that sink in.

It took me a bit to gather my thoughts because HOLY CRAP! my man must of lost his mind.

After a minute or so I discovered he was in favor of selling the jeep if, and only if, we could buy a wrangler that a friend of his has for sale.

Wellalrightythen, let’s see. Selling one heap to buy another heap.

Hum. A wrangler is no doubt cooler than a Cherokee, but it is still a heap nonetheless. A few months ago, a friend of McDaddy’s left his jeep at our house and we decided to take it out one evening. We took the top and the doors off and away we went. While dancing along with my iPod (which was blaring through the speakers) to Rob Bass (a little Joy and Pain), I got all wild and crazy and the next thing I knew my shoe flew off my foot and bounced down the highway.

One thing is certain if McDaddy decides to purchase another heap. Fun topless times are sure to follow.

It amuses me that this post started out about my mad organization skills and then took a u-turn into a post about the heap and the heap, part two.

Obviously, rambling works for me!

For other Works For Me Wednesday posts, visit We Are THAT Family.