Mama Bear

Script Message

Mama bear — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 15:54:55 GMT

I have my PNN homepage bookmarked so I can click to it easily, but lately it's been cranky. It takes forever to load up and then there's a message box that is downright pissy: A script on this page is causing your computer to run slow. Do you want to discontinue the script? Of course I hit YES, because whatever is causing the slowdown is not okay, and yet every single time it comes up -- AGAIN! I've gone down the page a dozen times looking for some weird script, but I'm completely flummoxed as to what the computer gods consider problematic. Any ideas, anyone?

An Exercise in Futility

Mama bear — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 18:49:00 GMT

There was a drive-thru Swine Flu clinic today at our local high school, and since our doctor's office has run out of their available vaccines and is waiting on a shipment (with no idea when that might arrive, or how much will be in it), I loaded up the kidlets and docked the minivan in the line.

An hour later we'd gone less than one block, with the high school still six or seven blocks away.

There were four directions feeding into the high school, so each time we moved forward in our line it was one car length's worth... or less. The biggest jumps came when someone did that complicated three-point turn and roared out of there, shaking their head and thinking ugly vaccination thoughts.

I know the thoughts, because I had them -- while wrenching the van out of line and turning it in the opposite direction.

I had promised the kids a "brave present" for the ordeal, and I figured the waiting patiently for a dreaded event counted... we went all through WalMart, including the bathroom, and still were home less than an hour after our minivan yanked out of line. I bet if we hadn't left we'd be at least a block closer... or maybe not.

Sigh.

Good thing we're still on the list at the pediatrician's office for the elusive shipment...

http://www.pressdemocrat.com/article/20091024/articles/910249985&tc=yahoo

It Even Grosses Me Out

Mama bear — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 14:33:29 GMT

Apparently I got a little bonus treat from the great family weekend: Poison Oak.

It started as a little annoying itch on Monday morning, right by my wedding ring, and by mid-day it was beginning to swell and blister. For the last three days I've been unable to go in to work -- it's hard enough looking after myself, let alone other little beings -- and I've been looking at someone else's hand at the end of my arm -- someone distorted and swollen and red and blistered in a horrible cluster. My wedding ring is safely on my key ring -- thank goodness I took it off when it first began to itch, or it'd be wedged in the mess like Pooh in Rabbit's front door.

It's nasty.

(By the way, MoM, I read your post and laughed at the irony: Whose hands are these, indeed!)

Arghhh!

Mama bear — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 14:28:06 GMT

I've tried to post several times this week, but with one thing or another it's been unsuccessful. Either the computer is acting fussy, or the internet has a hiccup, or PNN's little article box won't load, or a combo of all three; plus I've been feeling pretty cruddy (feel free to insert your own word in place of cruddy if that's not strong enough... whatever word you come up with probably fits) and we've been run off our feet busy.

Today is my proficiency test at the district office -- yea yippee yea rah, and yes, that's pure sarcasm -- so I'm trying to decide if I go in with a Pumpkin Spice Latte or an Advil and some water. Maybe all three, come to think of it... with whipped cream on the latte, thank you very much!

The good news is that it's Friday, and we have some fun stuff planned. Saturday we celebrate Matt's and Cari's birthdays (they are actually turning their new ages in early October, but between our schedules we couldn't come up with a date closer to the events so we're popping it early) and Sunday Matt and I celebrate being married 12 years. (We are going out to drinks and appetizers and getting new cell phones... I know, fancy, huh? LOL)

I'll try to post later with some of the stuff I TRIED to post earlier this week -- Thomas' new school's Back to School night and his Placement IEP, the photo find in the garage, and getting ready for my mother in law's big birthday next weekend. Oh, and the Jury Duty thing... and whatever else pops into my head later!

Happy Friday, friends... may your latte always have extra whipped cream!

Roll Over, Roll Over

Mama bear — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 14:37:34 GMT

Do you remember the preschool song that goes, "There were ten in the bed and the little one said, 'Roll over, roll over!' And they all rolled over and one fell out. There were nine in the bed and the little one said, 'Roll over, roll over!' And they all rolled over and one fell out..."?

It's been running through my head all week.

Monday was a holiday; no school.

Tuesday we had two kids and one aide out.

Wednesday we had three kids and one aide out.

Today is Thursday...

Roll over, roll over!

He Did WHAT? GOTTAGOBYE!

Mama bear — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 22:50:27 GMT

My sister in law is a school teacher so she has some time on her hands to come hang out and visit, and since my car is STILL in the shop (going on 2 weeks now), I have a serious need for company. Auntie and I visited for a bit, and then she followed me upstairs to hang out while I cleaned the master bath sinks and counter.

My best friend (also a teacher) called to share the news that her daughter had just gotten her ears pierced -- "Without even flinching!" -- and I was relaying the news to Auntie when Megan called out from downstairs, "MOM! Thomas is in the bleach!"

Holy clean clothes, Batman!

I flew down those stairs hollering, "He's WHAT? Gottagobye!" and hanging up on Cari (who is used to an abrupt hang up or two) and discovered that Thomas had, indeed, been in the bleach.

The good news? He'd tried to help. He'd poured all the rest of the bleach into the washer. I know that there was about a third of a bottle in there yesterday, or maybe a quarter, so when I say "all the rest," I mean all the rest: The jug was empty.

Unfortunately, the washer was NOT empty.

No, I had washed a load of darks... dark darks, to be precise... and the washer had just spun to a merry stop moments before.

I peeked inside, hardly daring to hope, and saw puddles of bleach on the edge of the machine, a lake in the fabric softener dispenser, and interesting blotches and speckles all over all the clothes.

Auntie had raced down the stairs after me, and she kept saying, "Oh my God, I am so sorry, Jules!"

There was nothing to be done; I added some more detergent (out of habit, I guess -- I think all the clothes are goners) and ran a cold cycle to get rid of the bleach in the machine. Then I called Thomas to me and told him in a firm voice that he was not to touch the washer or the cabinet where the cleaners were -- kind of a closing the barn door once the cows have escaped, but what else could I do? -- and double checked that the door to the laundry room was indeed locked.

Sigh.

I know he was trying to help. He had no idea what havoc he was wreaking when he poured the stuff in...

I know the door is usually locked, and the ONE time it wasn't, he spotted his chance... it was a fluke.

I know that I cannot watch him every second of every day, and that he is more closely supervised than most toddlers -- but I still feel partly guilty about the incident.

Sigh.

I had hoped to show off the clean counter to Matt and say, "TA-DA! See what I got done today?" but now I think that is going to pale in light of the other "news" from our day.

Two more weeks to summer school.

Sigh.

Oh, and I called Cari back to let her know the reason I had abruptly hung up on her, but she was unavailable... she was getting her massage. (No, I am NOT bitter... who said that? LOL She totally deserves it after a year of teaching 6th graders in a middle school!)

Miss California

Mama bear — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 04:12:10 GMT

Maybe it's just me -- I do feel particularly shallow today, after all -- but the first reaction I had to the recent news that Carrie Prejean has been fired due to breach of contract, and that the runner up would now be crowned Miss California in her place, was a raised eyebrow and a fervent sigh of relief that it wasn't me that had to step up to that role, and a profound wish of good luck to the new Miss California.

I mean, come on... how many weeks have gone by since the pageant? Who is going to continue shaving and plucking and getting the regular haircuts and eating low-fat if you are runner-up?? Heck, I don't do those things and I'm not even in the picture! If the committee came to find me lo these many weeks later, I'd have to slam the door in their face, put down the Ben and Jerry's, and race upstairs to shimmy out of the flannels and bathrobe, praying SOMETHING still fit.

Er, just sayin'. You know, if I was ever in a beauty pageant and came in second and stuff.

Ahem. Like I said, it's a shallow day.

Mother of the Year (NOT)

Mama bear — Thu, 07 May 2009 23:21:13 GMT

Just so you know, I have withdrawn my name from the Mother of the Year Awards list. I figured traumatizing my son with a movie would pretty much pull me out of the running, anyway, but I thought I'd preempt the public outing.

Can I get a show of hands if you remember "The Red Balloon," the nearly silent movie they showed us on rainy days in elementary school? It was made in France in 1956, and it's about a kid who finds a huge red balloon that ends up following him all over town. The balloon is gigantic and sturdy -- it almost looks like one of those exercise balls they use when you're in labor -- and it has a string that is thick enough to be a small gauge rope, but it's almost alive in how it responds to the boy and reacts to other people.

I found the DVD at the library yesterday and vaguely remembered the movie -- the way the balloon seemed to play with people as they tried to catch it, the way it hung out outside the boy's school and apartment, waiting for him, the funny scenes of the old fashioned streets-- but apparently I'd forgotten quite a bit. Either that, or I blocked it out...

For about 85% of the movie Thomas and Megan watched, enraptured, and laughed several times. Then there was the other 15%...

There are some thugs in the movie, and they chase the main character and his balloon in a very menacing way. These thugs are just bigger boys, but they are forced to wear very short, very tight European-style shorts that cause them to be in some sort of Vienna choir boy 'roid rage, because they are MEAN. (The younger boy has to wear some pants that look hand-crocheted, with a saggy backside, but at least his 'parts' aren't mashed into oblivion.) The adults are non-existent, except when they forbid the balloon on the bus, in the school, or in the boy's apartment.

We were watching along with the kids, and when it seemed appropriate I would sort of narrate the behaviors: "Oh, that wasn't very nice, was it?" for a tense scene or "HEY! You balloon! You come back here! Gotcha! Oops, missed! Gotcha! Oops, missed!" when there was a silly scene.

The boy and his balloon escape the mob of older boys a few times by slinking through alleyways and sliding through metal fencing, but finally the balloon gets cornered and popped... and the boy is very, very sad. There's a death scene, essentially, where the balloon gets a hit from a slingshot and then slowly loses air, sinking to the ground in death throes. Then a big thug kid steps on it to finalize the whole thing.

Our family's reaction was a stunned silence, with Matt and I exchanging raised eyebrows: Crap.

From all over the town other balloons come zipping to his side, ditching other children just minding their own business -- toddlers, babies in prams, you name it, they get ripped off just walking down the street -- flying out of stores and across parks and out of windows all across the landscape. They fly to the boy, surrounding him with their colored spheres, and the boy gathers them up and flies off into the sky, a mass of colored baloons supporting his saggy crocheted pants...

("You know that's a myth," Megan pointed out at this point, authoritatively. "That can't really happen. Mythbusters proved it was busted.")

Despite the "happy ending," Thomas was still utterly stricken, his face contorted into despair. The balloon was popped! The boy was sad! The other boys were mean! This was NOT OKAY!

For a half hour Thomas fussed and cried on and off, insisting that we take the movie away. He was genuinely concerned, supremely agitated. He wanted us to put it in the mailbox, because that is where Netflix movies go... but this one was from the library. I got the library bag out, and showed him I was putting the DVD in it, and then put it in the van, but even that wasn't enough.

"Take it back, Mommy. Take it back."

So finally I got my keys and opened the garage door, backed out, closed the door, drove around the block and slunk up our street to hang out in front of our house for a few more minutes, then opened the garage door and drove in... to see Thomas and Matt in the doorway, waiting.

"See?" Matt said, nodding. "It's gone, honey. Mommy took it back. It's gone."

Thomas seemed to cheer up, but at bedtime he began to fuss and cry again, clearly sad and disturbed by the movie, still.

Matt went in and stretched out with him for a few minutes, and Thomas settled in to sleep... but then a few minutes later we heard the sobs again. I took a turn, and got him all the way to sleep... but then he began crying in his sleep, and I ended up sleeping with him all night, wedged on the edge of his single bed next to him.

He fussed and cried in his sleep a few more times through the night, but at least he slept... I must have, at some point, because I had traumatic dreams that only moms have, where your kid is lost, or hurt, or sick, and you can't help them...

This morning Thomas seemed his usual cheerful self, with no signs of mental trauma. He didn't ask about the movie, but I didn't bring it up, either... because while I may have blown it with the movie choice, I am not stupid.

Harumphh!

Mama bear — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 22:53:38 GMT

You know in cartoons when someone hits their thumb with a hammer and it gets swollen up like a soccer ball, throbbing and red and tender with stars dancing around it? I woke up with that thumb.

I injured it yesterday on a tangerine.

Apparently there's a line in the Yard Duty manifesto that says we open all fruit, regardless of ripeness. I brought that weird little Tupperware freebie citrus opener for a few weeks, but it walked off somewhere, leaving me citrus-opener-less, so I'm back to old school method. To do old school method you have to gouge your finger nail in the top and try to get under the peel, which is not as easy as it sounds when the tangerine is as hard as a rock. Repeat twenty or thirty times in a half hour period and you start hating citrus, citrus growers, and vitamin C in general. Yesterday's tangerines were especially reluctant to be opened, and I bent my fingernail back past the quick in an attempt... which of course hurt like the dickens, and then there was citrus juice all mingling in with the stinging and bleeding, so THAT was loads of fun. (No, I didn't swear, but I did feel rather grumpy and grousy for the next half hour of Yard Duty, that's for sure!)

It's not the first time that produce has injured me, either.

Last week I was making asparagas and I decided to be EXTRA healthy and add sliced red pepper to the steamer to boost the vitamins and fiber and pretty it up. Big mistake. I ended up burning myself pretty severely -- the backs of my fingers are still peeling and rough, and it was ten days ago. I am always very careful about handling the steamer, but the lid sort of slid sideways and unleashed its unholy power right on my hand in a lightning quick move... stupid lid. (I glared at it for a few seconds while holding my hand under cold water, but it didn't even look guilty.)

I started thinking about it, and do you know I can't recall ONE TIME that a Milky Way bar ever injured me in any way?? Not once!

Huh. Food for thought...

Has This Ever Happened to YOU?

Mama bear — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 06:16:57 GMT

It's been in the 80s and 90s here in Northern California this week... not complaining, mind you, just reporting... and I realized I had one pair of shorts and one pair of capris to my name. (I went on a purging expedition and got rid of a lot of my older stuff over the winter.) I decided to go shopping.

Good news: The size I automatically picked up DOES NOT FIT ANYMORE!! Whoo hoo! I totally worked my butt off, and it now fits into the next size down pants!

Bad news: When I had decided on a skort and pair of capris to buy, I put on my own clothing and immediately thought, "Ooh, no. Those sooo don't look good."

Damn.

LOL

Electronics, or How to Get Frustrated in an Hour or Less

Mama bear — Sun, 12 Apr 2009 02:25:57 GMT

My camera died, and after doing some research (and uncovering a gift card to the store) we decided to go to a major electronics store to make our replacement purchace. We'll call this store Best Buy, because that's what it's called.

Since I will be the one using it, primarily, and my husband is doing the overtime to purchase it, primarily, we each had a vested interest in being a part of the buying process. We figured out a decent time to take our son with us -- after T-ball and his second dose of medication, but before lunch so we could bribe him with french fries to behave. We drove down to the Big City (ha! I sooo live in a suburb!) and made our way into the ginormous store.

First we had to locate the camera department, which is no easy feat. It must get a lot of customers, as it was nearly in the farthest spot from the door, through at least three other departments. We hiked back there, boy child firmly in hand, and found the lower-priced-but-still-decent cameras. Then Hubby took Son on a Grand Tour of the store, with stops in Appliances, Movies, Musical Instruments, Televisions, Computers, and Phones, and the all-important Bathroom. I used this time to quickly peruse the available cameras, trying to find A) the brand I was interested in, B) the price I was interested in, and C) the features I needed. (Well, there's only one, really: fast shutter speed. Have you met my son, Flash?)

The second I stopped at the counter a young man appeared out of nowhere, his bright blue shirt and earnest look competing with his spiky hair for attention.

"Can I help you find anything?"

I indicated the cameras. "We're replacing a camera we had that finally broke. We like this particular brand --" I point to a Canon "-- because it was what we had, and we had a lot of good use out of it."

You could see the wheels turning: She wants a camera. She had one, but it broke. She is camera-less. I can sell her a camera!

He's a salesman, so he has to do the attempt to sell up, or he loses his cute little name badge with "SPENSIR" on it. His was pretty pathetic, though...maybe he's new, or maybe he's still learning the "oh, you don't know what you really want" technique. There was a brief glance at the other side of the counter, with the appropriately discouraged expression about the choices in the price range on THIS side of the counter, but I knew what I wanted and how much I wanted to spend. I smiled nicely, and shook my head, and again indicated the cameras in front of us. He gave up the higher pricetag sell quickly.

My old camera had a feature on the top that let you choose shutter speed or type of photo situation -- night, action, outdoor portrait, etc. I like that feature because you don't have to access fourteen menus to find the one setting you want, figure out you're wrong, and have to go back fourteen more to correct it. I need simple; I have Thomas already.

The Canon cameras I had to choose from did not have this certain feature, except for one model, but it still didn't have the one setting I need: ACTION.

"Oh," Spensir said, sorrowfully. "These don't have that feature anymore. This other brand here, on this side over here, might have something like that feature..."

Really. Huh. I don't think so, Spensir.

At about this point Hubby and Son approach, having completed the Grand Tour at a healthy clip, which is Thomas's only speed. A demo display on a flat screen nearby kept Thomas intrigued for a few minutes (he immediately found the button to fast forward through the options to the one clip he liked, and he proceeded to play that five or six times at a rapid pace), so Matt and I quickly discussed the pros and cons of the one Canon camera model most likely to fit our needs and budget.

We decided it was close enough, and to buy it.

I took Thomas off on another whirlwind tour, and Matt waited while Spensir went through multiple locked cabinets in search of the camera we were ready to plunk $150 down for... I bet you can guess what happened next.

No, Thomas didn't knock over a flat screen TV.

No, Thomas didn't set off a security alarm.

No, Thomas didn't dash off and access the Home Shopping Network on an unguarded computer.

(But good guesses!)

Matt found me in Children's Movies and said, "They're out of stock."

Options:

1) Go for another camera, and increase the likelihood of all the above-named disasters to occur while we decide on Plan B.

2) Find out when the camera we want comes in stock again.

3) Purchase said camera at another Big Box store.

We used the gift card to get a memory stick and went with a combo of 2 and 3... We found out when they'd be getting more stock ("Um... I think I have 8 coming on Tuesday," our salesdude said, doubtfully, when asked.) and then I ran into WalMa -- oops, a Big Box store -- and checked their camera department, too. (They were out of stock, but they had helpfully applied stickers to the price area below each model that they DIDN'T have. What a concept!)

I won't have a camera for Easter, but it's not that big of a deal. The grandparents all have them, and Easter around here is pretty laid-back and mellow. No taffeta dresses, no little vested suits... I can snap the kids in their playclothes anytime. LOL

Poor Spensir will spend another six or seven hours hoping for someone else to wander into his little spiderweb area, and that they will want to shop from the other side of the counter. I don't know if the employees work on straight commission or if they are just highly monitored to make contact with any customer in 3.4 seconds or less... but I always hate to take their time and then not make a purchase. We will be buying a camera -- soon, and probably from this particular Best Buy -- but the look on poor Spensir's face as we walked away, camera-less, was painfully glum.

You'd think, with all that access to state of the art electronics and stuff, that they'd have a system in place to let you know at a glance what you have in stock, wouldn't you? Or maybe have -- I don't know -- a sticker on the table next to the models you DON'T have in stock? Huh. That might be kind of smart, wouldn't you think?

One small warning: If I open the paper tomorrow morning and that camera is on sale or in any way in the sales circular, though, let me tell you right now: watch out! Mamabear is gonna roar and gnash her teeth something awful! And I'll bring Thomas along, too!

Spin-off Piece from "Things I Don't Get"

Mama bear — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 23:03:29 GMT

Alright, I must be on Idiot Alert or something. Everywhere I go, I see stupid people. This morning, for instance, driving my kids to school in the Mommyvan, some woman in a big ol' SUV nearly broadsided me --in my lane-- because she was TEXTING while driving. What the ????

This gal was lucky I don't make the laws in California, because that cute little move -- texting while operating a moving vehicle -- would have netted her at least one DIMWIT point.

Here's how my DIMWIT system works. DIMWIT stands for Driver Is Moron With Idiotic Tendencies. Each idiotic move would earn you one point, which would be a large suction-type flag attached to your car. It would be non-removable, like those clamps they put on clothes in high-end stores, or on the tops of liquor bottles. The flag would be an alert system for other drivers to watch out, this driver is bound to do something stupid. If there is more than one flag, that tells you they are not only bound to do it, but they might do it right in front of you. At five flags, the car is painted a hideous day-glo orange, with florescent paint.

Idiot moves would include, but not be limited to:

*Texting while driving.

*Holding phone up to head with one hand and pulling on seatbelt with the other, while pulling into traffic in front of a school. (And other similar no-hands situations.)

*Reaching down to the floorboard to find an iPod, cell phone, or other device while moving forward at any speed.

*Driving while trying to drink hot coffee out of an open mug.

*Feel free to add your own Idiot Moves here: _____________________________________.

Since the idiot drivers are too many to count by traditional police/CHP measures, we fellow drivers could award the points. It's sort of like a citizen's arrest... Each car would be equipped with a button on the dash that allows a photo to be taken in one of eight directions, capturing the idiot driver in action. If the driver is on your passenger side, slightly in front of you, you'd press the button on the corresponding spot, similar to 2 o'clock on a clock face. The moron is behind you? Push 6 o'clock. See? Now the information is sent to the Idiot Recognition System (IRS) and a Flag Patrol is dispatched to deal with the DIMWIT system.

I swear this could work!! What do you think?

Things I Don't "Get"

Mama bear — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 22:57:34 GMT

There are several things I don't "get," as in, what the heck?! They rattle around in my brain like those last few popcorn kernels that never seem to pop in a microwave bag... which, come to think of it, I don't get, either. Here's a sampling of today's thoughts:

I DON'T GET:

* Moms who drop off their kids at school while wearing slept-in pajamas and bedhead hair...EVERY DAY.

* School nurses who don't like kids. (Well, people, really, but children especially.)

* People on state aide having state-of-the-art cell phones with cameras, MP3 players, and customized, purchased ring tones. (My phone is ready to be retired to a museum as a period piece, circa 1998. It barely functions as a phone, let alone do any extras.)

* The sizing system at Starbucks.

* How trying to eat less/make better choices makes you think about food CONSTANTLY.

* How you can get seven things happening on the same Saturday after ten weekends with nothing but "do laundry" on the calendar.

* Why Easter dresses are made out of rustle-y taffeta and scratchy lace when they are meant to be worn quietly to church. Also, why they are sleeveless when Easter is traditionally chilly and windy.

* Weather forecasters getting excited about weather of any kind. Yes, it's snow/rain/wind/cold/hot/stormy. That's what weather IS. Get over it.

* Netflix getting a movie less than fifteen hours after my letter carrier has put it in their jeep, but a check taking two weeks to get here.

* Why ranting feels so doggone good.

I'm sure there's more... feel free to add your personal "Don't Get" below!

Frustration

Mama bear — Thu, 26 Mar 2009 00:34:15 GMT

I have several articles/postings that I have written in my head, but I haven't posted here because I am stuck. It's not writer's block, it's more of a rock and hard place stuck -- damned if I do, damned if I don't.

One situation is Thomas's schooling. I want to be open and up front here, but I have to be careful not to "pee in my own bathwater," as the saying goes. (It may be just my own saying, but it says it pretty doggone perfectly, doesn't it?) I have some things up in the air, and I don't want them to get knocked down... so I am waiting for real news to report, instead of what I hope to happen.

Another situation also stems from school, but I spent the morning writing a letter to the principal to express my concerns. I'll wait and see what happens with that one, too.

The third is a constant: Not enough time to do all the things I need to do, let alone what I want to do. I could go on for PAGES about that one, but I'd be adding to my stress about time by using my time to do that!!! Argh.If I could clone myself and run errands, go for a walk, write here, and take a nap... I'd be superhuman, and probably wouldn't need the nap. Sigh...

Finally, as I was juggling my to do list to see what HAD to happen vs. what I'd LIKE to happen, I got a call from my daughter's teacher today about the guinea pig... apparently Emily the guinea pig is not doing well, as in she may not make it through the school day. Would I come get her? Of course I went right away and got her, and now her cage is on the floor in front of me and she's barely breathing, laying on her side in her soft bedding fluff. We may be having a guinea pig funeral this afternoon, and grieving the loss of a sweet little classroom pet.

Deal or No Deal, or How to Use WW Points

Mama bear — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 00:03:26 GMT

In my quest to slow down the Now-I'm-40-Muffin-Top Syndrome, I recently joined Weight Watchers. The system is easy enough (albeit thinly disguised math) and based on solid nutrition and exercise habits, so it seemed a good choice for me. I was prepared to make some changes in my eating habits, because clearly my system of eating what I wanted, when I wanted, calories be damned, wasn't working. (See Now-I'm-40-Muffin-Top Syndrome, above.) What I wasn't prepared for was the despair over using up my points -- especially my bonus weekly points! I thought I could totally stay within my alloted points and splurge on a few cookies here and there, not have to slide points over for yogurt or granola bars... Boy, was I wrong!

I get 22 points a day, plus 35 a week, to use as I see fit. The first day I tried their filling methiod, and had a packet of oatmeal for 3 points. I used up 2 more points on my 1 cup of 1% milk for my coffee (probably half or even a third of what I usually use) but I was sort of virtuous feeling -- watch the weight slide off, people! Look at me go! An hour later I was RAVENOUS, which is my typical response to eating oatmeal for breakfast. (Protein works much better for me.)I began fantasizing about what I could eat, and looking up the points... Good God, that was depressing! All the foods I like were a kajillion points!! WW suggest lots of filling foods, good for you foods like veggies and fruits, which are low in points and high in fiber... I don't care for fruit unless it's associated with a bread product -- for instance, apple pie, or blueberry muffins, or strawberry shortcake. (Sadly-- shockingly! -- the bread product makes the whole being good thing sort of not good anymore... who knew?) The first day I dutifully thawed out a cup and a half of strawberries (1 point) and a cup of blueberries (1 point), and forced myself to consume them. I used a serving of yogurt for the strawberries, but it was fruited, not plain, so it was 4 points. That was my Don't Gnaw Open a Package of Girl Scout Cookies mid-morning snack, which got me through to my lunch of a Smart Ones Ravioli Florentine meal -- 5 points. I couldn't bring myself to eat the blueberries plain, so for my mid-afternoon snack I crumbled up a package of crispy granola bars over them, and realized later that that added another 4 points. So now I've used up 10 points on snacks, and it was STUFF I DIDN'T EVEN WANT!! Arghh! By now I was smack dab in the middle of a caffeine shortage headache, and I downed a Coke -- 3 points. We'd planned dinner already, so I figured out my serving and sadly wrote in my points -- 8. (Olive and cheese Boboli, half a shell.)

Day one total: 31 points used.

Day one, and I've already gone in the hole and tapped the bonus points.

Sigh...

But about Day Four it dawned on me that the bonus points were sort of like the dollar amounts on Deal or No Deal. Everyone groans when the amount is high -- 100,000, say, or 250,000, but if those get turned over, the million still is in play. The penny is nice to get out of the way, and so are the other low amounts, but if you have a nice high amount in your chosen briefcase, you will have to turn over the other high amounts to get to that prize! The bonus points can't be saved, so I have to cross them off, anyway... it's OKAY to cross them off, it's not a sign of failure and/or rampant gluttony. (Well, sometimes....!)

I am making better choices these days, and learning little tricks as I go. Eating more fruits and veggies has made me crave them more, and drinking more water makes me thirsty for water more often! I swapped out an egg for the oatmeal and not only saved a point per meal, but I'm not frantic with hunger at 9 AM, either... so that's another 5 points I'm not throwing after the useless 3! And you know what? That blueberry-granola bar crumble was really good... and good for me, to boot! And it's only 5 points! LOL