Author: Dre

Categories
Blogging Business Life in general

Dirty Duty

Some awesome bloggers have offered to keep things from getting too dusty here at The Sweet Life while I’m stuck in a jury box for a few weeks, so come on by to give them some love.  

Just don’t hold me up to their standards when I get back, although eventually I will get to unzip my lips and dish some dirt on a murder trial.

Just who will be making an appearance, you ask? 

Marinka of Motherhood in NYC; 
Kirsten of The Norwindians;
My sister Sheasy of Sheasytime, who is threatening promising to tell tales of my youth;
V of VDog+ Little Man and Room 704;
Meghan of A Mom, Two Boys and All Mediocre;
Kari of I Left My Heart at Preschool;
Sophie of Our Life, Izaburbs;
Anymommy of Is There Any Mommy Out There?;
Jessica Bern of Bern This;
and even Jenny, The Bloggess sent over a video you’re sure to love

Also?  An Anonymous Bitch Fest, right here, and you’re invited!

Any other bloggers interested in writing a guest post?  Want to repost something that you love or that didn’t get enough attention the first time around?  Send it over! 

Email me at Jerdre53(at)aol(dot)com. 

And now, a conversation with my children:

Blythe: Mama, where goin’?

Me: I’ve got Jury Duty, baby.

Blythe:  Mama got dirty duty?

Me: No, JU-RY duty.

Blythe:  *cocking her head to the side*  Dirty duty?

Alison: No, Blythe.  It’s JURY duty.  Right mom?  Did I get it right?

Me: Yes, you got it right.  JURY duty.

Blythe:  Mama got dirty duty.  Daddy no got Dirty duty.

Me:  You’re absolutely right.

Categories
Health and Nutrition

Becoming a Shredhead

I’m hopping on the 30 Day Shred with trainer Jillian Michaels bandwagon.  I need to get back into shape after treating my body liking a dumping ground for the past 6 (ok 9) (or more) months.

To help keep me motivated, I’m joining the Shredheads, fearlessly led by Kristen of Motherhood Uncensored.  My first task is to post an introduction, so here we go, with my photos and stats!

Here’s me, 6 weeks and 12 weeks pregnant with Blythe, respectively.  I don’t expect to look quite like that first picture any time soon, but it sure would be nice if I didn’t look bigger than I did when I was 3 months pregnant with my second child.


  6 weeks         12 weeks

 Today

I’ve done two days of the 30 Day Shred so far, but, um, not in a row.  At ALL.  I was so sore after my first attempt on Monday it took until Thursday before I could even THINK about doing another push up.  And even then I had to switch to the sissy modified method.

Instead of tracking my weight, I’m going to work on lowering my body fat.  I’m within my normal weight range, but my body fat is a whopping 8% higher than it was this time last year.  Holy Effing Bean Burrito, people.

Body fat: 25%

Goal: Stop treating my body like a garbage dump

Diet Plan: Drink more water, make healthier food choices, eat fewer processed foods, carry healthy snacks with me in the car so I’m less tempted by other things

Personal Rules: Drink a glass of water before eating, eat away from home no more than once a week

Shred Plan: I’d like to shoot for 5 days per week.  10 days of each level, if I can handle it!

Categories
Entertainment Kids Life in general

Who Takes Their Kids to a Cannibal?

For a few years in my childhood, we lived next door to a family of five.  The mother was Indonesian, the father was American, the three kids were a 50-50 mix of the two.  The children, whom I immediately befriended the day they moved in, told me that their mother learned English by watching Sesame Street.  

This made for some interesting conversations.

Most of the time, the kids were around to translate.  But one time, the mother came over to ask my mom a question that she didn’t want her kids to hear. 

It went like this:

Indonesian Mom: You take a kids to cannibal?

My Mom: (looking shocked) What?

IM: You take a kids?  To cannibal?

Mom:  Um, what? 

IM:  Da cannibal.  You kids.  Dis weekend?

Mom:  Andrea, come here.  Tell her, “What?”

Me:  What’s that you said?

IM:  You mom take you a cannibal?  Dis weekend?  Ride-a-ride?

Me:  Where is Janice?  She can tell me what you want.

IM:  No, no.  No Janice.  You ride-a-ride?  You know, cannibal.  (Making large circular motions with her arms).

Me:  Mom, I think she wants you to take us to a cannibal that throws knives.  But no, thanks.

Mom:  (To IM) A knife throwing cannibal?

IM: NO!  CA-NI-BAL.

Mom:  OH!  You mean a cannon ball?  The one on main base?  (We were military, of course.)

IM:  NO!  CA-NI-BAL.  Kids.  Da cannibal.  Ride-a-ride.

Mom:  Oh, no thank you.  (closes the door in exasperation).


Turns out, she was planning to take her kids to the carnival as a surprise, and wanted to know if we’d like to tag along. 

Speaking of which, we took the kids to the traveling carnival this weekend, and Blythe ride-a-ride, for the very first time.  In fact, both kids rode LOTS of rides.  


 Shouldn’t she be smiling?

I much preferred the carnival over a knife-wielding cannibal, I can tell you.

Categories
The Style Section

TOO SHORT

Wouldn’t it be great if this was a post about how Blythe and I ran into TOO $HORT, the old school gangsta rapper at Target this morning?  Maybe I would write about how he posed for a photo with Blythe (great stuff for the baby book) and gave us an autographed copy of one of his CDs.

Then I would have told you how I was planning to give the CD to Jeremy while out on our date tonight, and we were going to laugh, laugh, laugh, because Jeremy always busts out the TOO $HORT lyrics when he’s had a bit too much to drink.  Ahh, inside jokes are the best.

But, NO.  This is not a post about any old school gangsta rappers.

It’s about a much more important topic, my hair.  It is TOO freaking SHORT.

 

Don’t get me wrong – it’s a cute cut.  My girl knows hair, and that’s why I’m so loyal.  But oh my gah.  It’s so short, especially in the back:



My hair is literally less than half an inch long in some places.  OK, in lots of places.

This is what I get for pointing at a few pictures and then reading a magazine instead of being specific and paying attention. 

Holy hell, when will I stop freaking out when I look in the mirror? 

Categories
Motherhood and Pregnancy Parenting

Perfection

I look back at my first year of motherhood and laugh.  Sometimes it’s a chuckle, but most of the time it’s more of a maniacal cackle.

I tried so hard to be perfect, but that goal was always just out of reach.  I was tremendously overwhelmed, and that’s what makes me laugh the most.  Back then, I had one, easy child who slept an average of 16 hours per day, no job, no social schedule to keep, nothing.  Despite that, my to-do list was a mile long and on top of that, I had set some pretty lofty goals for my infant daughter.  Basically, I made life a million times harder than it had to be. 

Sleep on a schedule?  Check.  Completely nutritious meals, with no exceptions?  Check.  Absolutely no television at any time?  Check.  Exclusively breastfed?  Erm, not quite, but I tried.  No baby-sitters except during nap time?  Check.  Vacuum every speck of dust from the house, every day, even if it takes four hours with the baby strapped in the Bjorn?  Check.

Really, what the hell was I thinking? 

I long to regain all the time I wasted.  I cringe at the amount of pressure I put on myself to reach a completely unattainable goal.  I’m saddened by the amount of time I spent crying because I felt like a failure at  motherhood.  It turns out, I’m completely and utterly normal.  And thank God for that.

I bought a book yesterday at Target, based solely on the fact that I laughed out loud at the title:



It’s entirely true: I was a really good mom before I had kids.  I was also a great nanny, god mom and aunt.  I had an amazing amount of energy, unwavering patience, and always made good, educated decisions when it came to the kids I was with.  I was also full of practical advice for their moms.  I thank them now for not punching me in the face. 

Then my first child was born, and it all went to hell in a hand basket.  Not at first, mind you.  Those first 6 months of motherhood were magical, and I’m not even the kind of person that uses words like “magical”. 

How, exactly, did I get from there to here?  How many buckets of tears have I cried, trying to find the balance between the mother I dreamed I’d be and the mother I hope I am, leaving room for the mother I am on a day-to-day basis?

Despite the fact that I still worry about the choices I make as a parent, I let go of being the perfect mom a long time ago.  Sure, sometimes it creeps up on me when I’m in a certain mode of getting things done.  But if my kids are able to look back from adulthood and say I was a pretty good mom, most of the time, I’ll be happy with that.  

And hot damn, if life isn’t a whole lot nicer when a dirty floor doesn’t make me a bad mother.


* If anyone would like to have this book when I’m done, let me know!  I’m loving it so far. *