Stress

I have been a bit stressed out lately, feeling like I am hovering an atoms-width away from nuclear meltdown (a precarious situation, to be sure). I didn't realize how severe my anxiety had become until I found myself rummaging through the cupboards in search of something - anything - sweet. The only thing I could find was a bar of Ghirardelli unsweetened baking chocolate. I took a bite and then another, crinkled up my nose in self-disgust and reminded myself that I don't even like dark chocolate (let alone unsweetened chocolate that is intended to be sugared and sifted into a bowl of cream).

Then I thought, mmmmm.... pie. In part because that is a natural progression when one is obsessed with discovering some sort of confectionery prozac hidden in her cupboards - not that I am depressed (though I did use the word "melancholy" twice in one day) - but mostly because I have been watching "Pushing Daisies" which, in spite of my insistence that it would not affect me, has sent my husband running to the store on two occasions to procure a pie. Not at my urging, mind you. All his idea. I just cheered him on from the sidelines. (Except that one time when I said we really didn't need pie at 11:00 at night and he finally relented, an action I sincerely regretted the next day (Sunday) when 8:00 hit and I was like, "wish I had some pie.")

And then it dawned on me: I'm a stress eater. This is one of those things about myself that I didn't know. Even after spending nearly 30 years with myself, somehow it slipped by me.

This does not help me in my quest to lose weight. Of course, neither does the fact that when I say "lose" I mean it in the sense that I would like to stick the weight somewhere and promptly forget where I put it. ("Honey, have you seen that sack marked 'Bonnie's hips and thighs'? I can't remember what I did with it!")

I know some would say I could reduce stress by working on my self-control, but I know where I put that. It's hidden at the bottom of a bag of potato chips.

Crunch.

Nope, still haven't found it.

Siblings

The Winner!

We have a winner, whose name was drawn out of an official LIFE AS AN ADVERB plastic baggie by our distinguished judge:


I would say that he was impartial, but as he spent the day getting in touch with his feminine side, the ladies may have had an advantage.

The lucky winner of an autographed copy of Cold as Ice is Kristen Smith! (I'll send you an email shortly). Congrats, Kristen, and thanks to everyone who submitted a word.

A Little Reminder

You have two more days to enter my Cold as Ice drawing! While I am generally sympathetic to procrastinators (I have a degree in procrastination, myself), time is running out. This is a book you don't want to miss (unless you value sleep, because I had to stay up till 2 in the morning finishing the thing. Darn compelling plotline!).

Anyway, if you still want a chance to win an autographed copy, leave a comment on this post or this one and, if you're really feeling generous, tell me one of your favorite words. I love words. If I love your word enough I might put your name in twice.

I guess you could say I'm feeling magnanimous.

This Just In

Angelina Jolie makes lunch for the kids! Yes, that is the headline of an actual article in an actual magazine. Granted, a magazine that devotes most of its pages to celebrity nonsense, but still. Are we really so bored with our own lives that this is newsworthy information?

Apparently so, because according to people.com this article is the "most read" of the day. So I had to read it, of course, to find out what was so article-worthy about it. And the verdict is? There isn't anything. I was so bored while skimming it that I turned to the literary masterpieces contained in some of the junk mail sitting on my desk. Then I made brownies. And took a load of laundry downstairs. And got a snack for Michael before I shooed him back into quiet time. Last, but not least, I turned on the baby monitor (because I forgot to do so earlier) and decided I would allow myself a few minutes to blog before I spend my remaining quiet time unburying myself from the knee-deep dejunking I've been doing in our upstairs closets. Seriously, I have to swim to get into Michael's room now. (This is going to be very problematic if he wakes up in the night and has to use the potty).

But I digress. At first I thought this article was the most annoying batch of drivel I've ever read. Really, it's news that Angelina Jolie made lunch for her kids? Gag me. But then, I realized, maybe it is news. Because her turn to make lunch must not come up very often when she is 25th on the list (right behind personal chef and nanny #17). So, good for her, mixing up mac and cheese for her kids. Or wheat germ and lemon grass. Or whatever it is that movie stars feed their offspring.

Isn't it adorable when Angie tries to pretend she is a normal person who takes care of all the household tasks by herself? It's so cute I could just pinch her little cheeks.

If I weren't so scared of all her tattoos, that is.

Book Giveaway!

The latest release from two-time Whitney Award-winning author, Stephanie Black, has now hit bookstores! My copy of Cold as Ice is, at this very moment, winging its way across the country via Fed Ex. I can't wait!

And, because I believe everyone should get a chance to read a can't-put-it-down suspense novel, I will be giving a personalized, autographed copy to one of my lucky blog readers. Yes, I love you that much. Just leave a comment on this post in which you tell me one of your favorite words and I'll enter you into the drawing.

From the back cover:

After five patient years, Abigail Wyatt’s sisterly care is finally paying off: her younger brother, Derek, is abandoning his self-destructive lifestyle and seeking his parents’ forgiveness, thus ending the painful estrangement that wounded the whole family. But just as the pieces are falling into place for the prodigal’s return, a woman named Karen Brodie is murdered in a local park—and police name Derek as the prime suspect. Rather than standing firm and cementing the positive changes in his life, Derek succumbs to his cynical fears and runs from the law, leaving Abigail with her hands tied. Literally.

Derek’s raw panic convinces everyone that he’s the killer— everyone except Abigail, who doggedly maintains her brother’s innocence. With the help of Kyle, a charismatic new friend she might be falling for, Abigail digs deep into Karen Brodie’s troubled past in hopes of clearing Derek’s name. But as she uncovers a sinister plot of greed, envy, and vengeance, this loyal sister must face the painful truth that things—and people—are not always as they seem.

I'll draw a winner on August 21st. Happy reading!

Advice for a Supermodel

Dear Gisele,

When giving advice to new mothers (or mothers-to-be) it is best to be aware of a few basic facts:

No one wants to hear about postpartum weight loss from someone who pranced her bikini-clad, stretchmark-resistant, cellulite-free derriere down the runway just a few weeks after giving birth.

If you insist that childbirth wasn't painful you are either a liar or a mutant. Either way, it is best to keep this information to yourself, as the only purpose that is served by sharing this little tidbit is to make normal women everywhere want to hurt you.

We all know that "breast is best", but there are a whole lot of valid reasons that a woman might choose to (or have to) formula feed. The way to encourage more women to breastfeed is not to say that there should be a law forcing new moms to do so. Or to criticize mothers who feed their babies "chemical food".

Sincerely,

Irritated Mom

P.S. If your baby slept through the night at 6 weeks it has nothing to do with your superior parenting skills. You are LUCKY. End of story.

6 Months