Es You En.

What is going on with me? In a funk, I guess. I think it might be the weather. Yep, pretty sure. The weather and my pants not fitting right.

Here is the thing:
The Land Of Jen cannot exist without SUNshine, blue skies and a 75 degree high temperature for the day....(and daffodils, lilacs, reeses, popcorn, ribeyes and carmel...but I digress).

I hate the heat, but I would deal with it happily if only the SUN would shine! I am the girl who used to spray lemon water in my hair so that it would look like the girls on the SUN-in bottles! My twitter name even has to do with SUNshine!
Mother Nature, hear my plea!

For the love of all things shiny, warm, glowing and marvelous, send us some SUN!!!!

Stupid Pink Shirt

You ever wake up in the morning, yawn, stretch and think "this is gonna be a good day!"? That was me around 6:30... then I went back to sleep for a couple hours. That was me around 8:30 too! But not for long.

I woke up to the sound of my husband hammering and sawing away in the garage. This was not unwelcome at all, because he's an early riser and he likes "making stuff", so I know he was enjoying his time. Ike and Kayla were sleeping, I could hear Jake watching cartoons downstairs. I decided I'd bring my hubby a cup of coffee, so I got up and dressed. Threw on some exercise pants and an old pink tshirt, pony tail and glasses.

Made the coffee, went outside to chat... sun was shining, birds were chirping. All good in the hood. Then, I sat down on the step and was suddenly aware of my tummy hanging out and it made me feel instant disgust.

Instant disgust, instant disappointment, instantly my good mood was gone and I hate being me.

I cant seem to suck it in, cover it up, paste a smile over it and pretend I'm happy today. So, I went for a drive, buried my nose in a book... about to take a bath and hope to wash away my self loathing.

Ive got plans to laugh my ass off tonight and I cannot let this ugly pink shirt and ratty sweat pants ruin my day.

Whats Another Word for Spoiled?

My youngest sister Sarah is 13 years younger than me and 10 younger than Alecia. Between us and my mom, I'm not sure the poor little thing ever had chance to sleep or sit without being held... she was always being fed, coo-ed at, played with. At one point she started crying non-stop. Coincidentally, she seemed to cry harder when we set her down. It was so incessant, that my mom took her to the doctor. The doc did his check up and gave his grim prognosis: she was simply "well loved".

Turns out, we'd been giving her so much attention and meeting every need so well... she just needed some space. Needed to live a little on her own. Basically, we were spoiling her.

Shes a good girl. Grew up just fine and is working out the fun stuff of life these days... (Hey Sarah, you grew up goooood, grew up slowwww. HAHA)

Anyway, this brings me to my point. Which is that sometimes giving someone too much doesn't really help them at all. Such is the case with children.

As parents, we want our kids to have everything they "need" and to be happy. "Need" is in the eye of the beholder. "Mom, I need food, shelter and clothing" is far different from "Mom, I need Applebees for dinner, a nice house in a subdivision and a North Face jacket". We are quickly learning the error of our ways, as our kids have recently begun to walk around with their hands out and eyes peeled for a silver spoon.

Of course we want them to be happy. But we also want them to grow up to be strong, independent, reliable, hard-working contributors to society.

So, we make them do chores. And homework. And get jobs when they are 16.

From the sounds of it, you'd think we are torturing them. I really hope that one day they look back and say "Damn you, parents! I'm happy, well adjusted and successful! You raised me right, how could you!?!"

A Twinkie In My Pocket

Today I was reading an article online about how Lady Gaga was going to do a show on MTV about her highschool life. Apparently, she'll be sharing a story about being thrown in the garbage can by a cute boy and laughed at by mean girls in the hallway. I thought, yeah, right... sounds a little like an after school special.

Suddenly, I had an flash of a memory, one of the last days of my 6th grade year. Random, right?:

I was wearing my super awesome purple flower bermuda shorts and tank top. Rocking my almost-mullet do and coke bottle glasses. I really, really wanted to be cool. That was the year that I tried everything to be accepted in the "in" crowd. It never did work for me, I was never meant to be a cool kid.

Anyway, Mr Irwin had bought Soda Shop Poppe and turned his hearing aides down- so we were having a class party. People were laughing, talking, spraying water from hidden squirt guns in the hall way... general last day of school schenanigans. I was in the hall, standing by my locker. I said "Look, I can fit in here!".

If you knew any 12 year old boys who picked on dorks you may know what happened next.

A classmate, who I wont name (at least in this blog), closed my locker door and put a pencil thru the lock hole. Asshole.

At first, I thought "finally! I'm part of the joke!" the whole thing was funny, everyone was laughing. After a few moments, I realized that the other kids had gone back into the classroom and the joke was me.

That was when I got angry. I started banging on the walls and yelling. I was mad, because I was embarrassed. When I'm mad, I cry. So, I'm in my locker, crying and banging on the door. Finally, someone pulled the pencil and I got out. My retort? A scathing, tear filled "Very funny". The boy did apologize, I said "Its ok" and shrugged like it was nothing. I took the easy exit out of the situation and asked to go to the bathroom.

Right at that moment, I remembered that I had a twinkie in my back pocket. Why? I have no damn idea. My mom didnt buy stuff like that, I'm thinking it was probably a treat for end of school. I reached into my pocket, found my twinkie was smashed flat as a pancake- ruined.

I went in to the bathroom, checked myself out in the mirror. Made sure my twinkie didnt squish all over my shorts... went into the last stall and ripped the package open. I ate that twinkie in about 2 bites and wished I had more. I probably would have eaten the whole package.

It was my first real moment of... wow, this is hard to say... self loathing. It was my first moment of eating something bad for me to feel better, to soothe the pain of social humiliation. It was the beginning of a life long struggle with self esteem and food.

I wiped my face of twinkie crumbs, checked myself in the mirror, smiled and went back to the classroom. It was the beginning of a lifetime of "No, no, I'm fine... see how I happy I am? See my smile?"

Do you know, I had forgotten all about this until today? Its wierd that I buried it, but now that Im thinking about it, its a painful memory. Ive thought about it all evening and Ive come to a conclusion.

Yes, that guy embarrassed me. Yes, I have a problem with food. Yes, I will continue to struggle with it for the rest of my life.

BUT, that day also helped build me to who I am now. I am a person who isnt afraid to take the hard road, who cheers for the under dog, who befriends the new kid, who help someone in need- regardless of how cool they are.

Thats who I am. Thanks 6th grade bully... you helped make me awesome.