Thoughts on a Monday

My little Maryanne loves to talk.  She can talk and talk and talk until the sun goes down.  We just got back from Andrew's reader's theater performance at the school.  Thankfully, his group performed first.  Maryanne talked through the entire thing.


"Look, I found a star!"
"Pink!"
"There's a doggy."
"He's looking at me.  He's looking at me!  Look, he's gone!"
"Hey, that's mine.  Oh."
"Blue!"
"I'm the Mommy and you're the baby."


On and on, she talked.  I had to leave early because she was so loud we had a hard time hearing the students read their lines.  Of which, Andrew was the best!  I don't say that because I'm biased.  Well, okay, maybe I'm a little biased, but every parent has a right to be biased, right?  Anyway, he was the best because he was so into his character.  The play was "Spiderella."  Andrew was the Cicada Prince.  And, when he read his lines, he changed his voice ... he almost sounded like a British royal.  Then, at the end, he bowed.   *squeal* He was absolutely adorable!




I've determined I need to find a physician.  First of all, it's been over a year since I had my last physical.  And, for women, that's something that shouldn't be put off just because of the dreaded pap smear.  (Note: this gets graphic, skip this part if you don't want to be scarred for life.)  I mean, seriously, who goes for their physical and thinks, "Oh, yay!  I get to spread my legs apart and let my doctor poke my inner most parts with a long stick!"  It's just uncomfortable ... not something I'm looking forward to.  Especially considering that my uterus is tilted, so the doctor has to pretty much stick her entire hand into me in order to make sure every female reproductive organ is in good working condition.  Ick!  #Worstdayever!


But, after yesterday's most embarrassing moment, I've decided I better just bite the bullet and go in.  There are several reasons I've needed to find a physician, and the silly thing is that the reason influencing me to make an appointment is so vain.  I need to go in for the unfortunate pap smear, make sure I don't have any cysts on my ovaries (family history prompts this one), I've been feeling a lot of fatigue recently and probably should get my thyroid checked.  But, the thing that is prompting this visit is the silly thing that an eight-year-old said to me yesterday.


I was sitting in church with the class I teach and one of the boys leaned around the girls he was sitting next to and said, "It looks like you have chicken pox on your face."  To which I replied, "No, it's not chicken pox."  He asked, "Bug bites?"  Um, no.  My only answer was, "Zits."  I could have said, "Adult acne." But, I doubt he even understood the answer I gave.  And, seriously, how accurate would "adult acne" have been?  I mean, I've never not had acne since I was 11.  What exactly makes it "adult?"  The fact that it's showing up on my cheeks instead of just my chin and nose?  It's really frustrating to have such terrible skin.  But, I've never seen a dermatologist for it, and I think maybe it's time.




As I'm sitting here, Adam is chewing his toenails.  Yes, his toenails.  Ew!  I should probably go get the nail clippers and help him out, but for as much as it's grossing me out, I find it kind of hilarious.




Have you ever been in the store and seen those boxes of Huggies diapers that look like jeans?  The first time I saw them, I literally laughed out loud.  And, then everyone around me started to stare at me.  Oh well.  Whatever.  I think it is super hilarious.  I mean, just because they look like jeans doesn't mean it's okay to not get your baby dressed.  Granted, my Maryanne would run around naked all the time if I'd let her, but I don't.  It's just wrong.  It almost screams that it's okay to wear jean underwear.  I know a lot of teenage girls wear super short shorts ... and every time I see them I just have to point them out at say, "Look, that girl forgot her pants ... she has on denim underwear."  And, now the media is training children to wear the "jean" underwear when they are not even potty trained.  So wrong.




I've decided I really hate the Disney Channel.  So many of the shows have inappropriate sexual innuendos in them.  When I first saw one, I couldn't believe I'd just heard it.  It was mild enough that my young children probably don't understand it, but really?  It didn't need to be in there.


Oh, and speaking of that ... we played games with friends recently and the husband kept using his pet names for his wife.  So, it would be her turn and she wouldn't be paying attention and he would say something like, "It's your turn, Lover."  Um, hello?  My 11-year-old was playing with us.  We were in mixed company, and I felt like that was a little TMI.


Maybe this post is a little bit too much TMI too.  Maybe I shouldn't post it on here for all to read ... but, maybe this is kind of like my journal, and I really just want to keep it real.  Maybe.