Squeetles and Bothers

I don't think I've mentioned this before but my kids are awesome. They are mind-bendingly adorable. Lengthy exposure to their cuteness can cause mild brain damage - I mean, why else have I become so forgetful since their birth?

My four-year old, Benjamin, told me all about "Squeetles" the other night as I was getting him into his pajamas. He told me that he didn't like Squeetles because they scratch him. Naturally, I was a little concerned and asked him to tell me more.

"They're brown and blue and black and red!"

My goodness. Anything else?

"They're big big BIG! An' they have tails an' horns an' fur an' scales!"

He looked at me incredulously when I asked if they have wings.

"No. Silly mama!"

Squeetles have been popping up all over the place since then. When we go outside to play, Benjamin makes sure to tell his little brother to be careful of the Squeetles. But Squeetles aren't the only things we have to worry about, it seems. On Saturday, he told me that we also have to be careful of the "Bothers" that live in the woods. He seems to be slightly more frightened of Bothers than he is of Squeetles. Bothers jump out of trees and roar. I'm not sure what else they do, but I will do some research and try to come up with a more detailed picture of these dreaded beasts.

Anyone else think there might be a children's book in the making here? This is how "Axe Cop" got started, after all.

** I received some more information about Bothers. They do NOT live in trees, they live in bushes. They are also quite big and they have two heads. They are like the Squeetles in that they have "tails an' horns an' fur an' scales." They also have gigantic claws. Ben's world is full of monsters but thank goodness these fiends are no match for mommy's/daddy's growly voice and the threat of a spanking.

A phone conversation this morning with my mom.

Me: "Hi, mom!"

Mom: "Hi! How are you?"

Me: "I'm g-" [voice drowned out by screaming toddler] "Ben! Ben, just let him have that. You're not using it. Sorry, mom, I'm good."

Mom: "There was a big accident on Harrison yesterday."

Me: "Ben! Ethan! Stop fighting! Just share! Can't you share? Honestly, Ben, you don't need that. You're not playing with it. Just let him have it and keep coloring! What, mom? Oh, yeah. I heard about that."

Mom: (Probably suppressing laughter at my expense) "A guy had a seizure while he was driving and went through the median and crashed into the Verizon building."

Me: [Lots of shrieking on the part of Ben and Ethan - "Aaaah! No! MAMA! Gah! Meh! Mine! LET GO!!!"] "For crying out loud, Ben! Why do you need that?! Let him play with it and he'll leave you alone! Wow, was anyone hurt?"

Mom: "The passengers had some bumps and bruises but nothing major. The guy had a suspended license and no insurance. He was treated and immediately went to jail."

Me: ["MAMA!!! NOOOOOO!!!! MIIIIIIINE!!!!] "Give me that! Just give me that!" ["I done! I done coloring!"] "Fine. Good. Great. I'll put everything away. It sounds like that guy shouldn't have been driving in the first pl-" ["MAMAAAAA!!! NOOOOO!!! I NOT done! I wanna color!!! MAMAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!]"

(This goes on for roughly 15 minutes, during which time I retreat to another level of my home but it's no use because, dang, their voices can carry.)

Mom: "I hope your day improves from this point. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I love you!"

Me: [Much whining and carrying on in the background about coloring, injustice, bad little brothers, etc.] "I love you, too, mom. It was...nice...talking to you?"

Barring details like the accident that took place on Harrison Ave. in Butte yesterday, this is pretty much every phone conversation with my mom. And now that I'm not on the phone, the boys couldn't be quieter and better behaved.

And the object that spurred the chaos was the lid to the coloring bin. The LID...to...the...coloring...bin.

Body Image, yo.

I keep having these dreams where I'm much thinner, have way better hair, and a much prettier face. Then I wake up and have this kind of "aw, damnit" moment. I want to have more dreams where I'm hideously ugly so I can feel better when I wake up. While I do not feel that I'm beautiful, I don't feel that I'm hideously ugly, either. On the scale from "Hideous" to "Gorgeous" I register somewhere around "Meh".

I've always had face issues because I think I have a weak chin and a very, er, dominant nose. But whatev. I'm not going to start slicing and dicing to make improvements. The body image issue has been my constant companion now for 5 or 6 six years. I went from being an obnoxiously skinny teenager to a plump college student to a plumper adult. See, I thought my metabolism was ALWAYS going to be awesome so I developed unhealthy eating habits and ate way too many incredibly delicious fattening foods as prepared by my annoyingly thin wonderful husband and didn't exercise enough. Then I had two kids.

As Jamie and Adam would say - "There's your problem!"

Fine, I can't blame them forever. At some point "the baby weight" stops being a viable excuse - that point probably being once your child is over a year old. My youngest is a year and a half, by the way. So what do I do? Do I wallow in self pity and self loathing every time some prettier, thinner woman wanders into my line of sight? I've been doing that for the previously mentioned 5 or 6 years and it isn't as fun as advertised. Very recently, I began a calorie reduction diet because a very good friend of mine has had some awesome results doing the very same thing. No more late-night snackin', no more ice cream whenever I feel like it, no more burritos bigger than my head. *sigh* I'm really doing it this time. For about two weeks I have been practicing restraint and started cataloging my daily caloric intake. I've lost a pound.

One pound.

One pound?!

ONE POUND!!!!!

Maybe it seems like nothing, but to me it's freaking awesome! It's the first time in a LOOOOONG time that I've stood on a scale and noted a weight loss. And to be perfectly clear, I do not have plans to look like a stick figure. I want to just get back into the "healthy" range for a woman of my height. I want my stupid Mii on Wii Fit to stop doing that annoying "Boy-oing" thing and slapping it's rotund sides once it's done calculating my BMI. I want to like how I look. I was there, once upon a time, and I can get there again.

Woot!