Parenting Magazine

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I Hate Myself

May 5, 2008 by Brad  
Filed under Weight Loss

295343848_0149339ae5_t I Hate MyselfThere it is. I look in the mirror and I hate myself. I have started my diet again today. Being stuck without any transportation and no way to get over to see the chiropractor for the better part of a month has left me pretty well unable to move most of the day. I figure in three or for days I can start exercising to go along with my diet. My seven day goal is 5 pounds lost and to be able to walk to end of the block without being in pain. Most of that second goal is mostly chiropractic fixes, but it is still a goal.  Things will Change, because they have to change.
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Liam and “The New Pet”

April 21, 2008 by Katy  
Filed under Kids

We love Liam, but there are days when we roll our eyes at God and ask, “Oh Lord, how hell did two super smart people end up with such a fucking idiot for a child?” Then we remember he is nine. Then sometimes I say it’s normal because he has a penis. (Sorry guys, but it’s true, you are ruled by the whims of your hormones, even more so than us women.) Then I realize it doesn’t really matter, because he is ours and we love him.

107729240_3278d325a5_m Liam and The New PetI rant because he tends to be a loud mouth idiot who babbles on for hours about crap he lacks any understanding of to people who really don’t care, don’t want to hear it, or that he should be paying attention rather than the other way around. We haven’t told him of the baby. He isn’t stupid by any means, even if he has some learning problems mostly in delayed abilities because he was between 4 to 6 weeks premature. (I’ll talk about idiot doctors soon enough, but that’s another post) Right now when Brad and I need to talk about it, we either YIM from across the room or when other family members are present it is referred to as the new pet. We’ve decided to wait until we know the sex of the baby to tell him, that way he can say with confidence that he is having a brother or sister. Of course, I am totally dreading the thought of him asking how the baby came to be. I do NOT need to be having THE TALK with my ten year old son. That’s Brad’s job.

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