I'm back...and I'm also gone!

At long last, I've made the leap to a new blog and I've "come out of the blogging closet" somewhat finally and put my real name and photo out there. I still have some old posts from here to pull over for my archives and another menu category to add, but I will start posting to the new blog now.

I hope you'll take a look and comment with what you think or email me at the new site--I love feedback! And, while I'm at it, thank YOU for all the support over the years!

If you typically contact me for reviews and giveaways, please update your contact information for me to this new blog. I will be trying to do all reviews there, unless otherwise requested.

I do not know how long or if I will keep Crazy MomCat going yet. I may find I still need that anonymous place to write. But, add a new link on your readers to the new blog to get the latest updates from me.

Thanks, everyone!

...the one where I explain how I became ONE of them...

So, before we last spoke, MomCat was explaining to you how difficult her son's tackle football season had been for the whole family, but also how in many ways she'd seen her son toughen up and mature from the experience. And, while she still didn't feel like she meshed completely with the overly-intense football moms on his squad, she was starting to feel a little more "with it" at least.

Well, there's nothing like witnessing disgusting sportsmanship and sitting two feet from the most ridiculous parents/fans of a pee-wee football team, to make a girl bond with her football moms. Through the course of one game, I learned that really things could be much worse...and definitely much more intense.

It was a typically game scenario--my husband does the books for the team and assists the coach during games. Both my son and he have to be there 45 minutes before each game to "warm up" and do all that he-man-testosterone kind of football bonding.

This translates into me being left to entertain my antsy 4-year-old, who hates football games more than anything, for about three hours straight. A few weeks ago, I learned something that seems to help kill the time--we dump and run until the game starts. So, after dropping my son and husband off, we took off for a lovely football-free feast at a nearby sandwich shop. Large sale signs then pulled us to a favorite clothing store for browsing. We had the time, I told myself.

After finding tons of great deals for my daughter and son, we left and it dawned on me that, um, the game started like 5 minutes before that. Nice...sigh...

Still hoping that they'd been delayed, we arrived only to find we'd almost missed the entire first quarter. Of course, I felt like a boob--like someone had stapled a note card to my head that said, "Hello? Bad football mom here!" I tucked my tail between my legs and crept into the stands trying as not to raise attention to myself. Guilt-ridden, I decided not to plant myself in the middle of all the good football moms, for fear of having to explain myself. Instead, I'd try to sit to the edge, and somewhat in the middle of both sides of fans.

That's when I noticed one of the friendlier football moms, motioning to me urgently to come and sit closer to her. Wow! I thought. How nice! Have I finally made a football mom friend?

"You don't want to sit there. BELIEVE me." She said somewhat angrily when I sat behind her.

Puzzled, I sat down and turned my focus to the game. It didn't take more than 30 seconds for me to realize what she was talking about.

"RIP HIS HEAD OFF! RIP HIS HEAD OFF!" An angry opposing fan screamed, in reference to our quarterback.

Well, my goodness, I thought. That sounds a little intense!

"HURT HIM! HURT HIM GOOD!" She screamed again as she stood up and pointed towards our player, apparently directing her son (or the entire team) feverishly.

I looked around at our team's football moms. Each had their shoulders up, making their trying-to-look-casual-in-a-team-T-yet-remaining-overly-made-up-demeanor much stiffer.

"Do you see why I motioned for you to sit here? You should have SEEN what went on during the first quarter," the friendly mom shared with me. "I'm looking them up RIGHT NOW!" And, with that, she frisked out her crackberry and began frantically typing.

Soon after, a very large and definitely out-of-shape man began running in the front of our teams fans whenever the players on the field moved in that direction. As he ran and scream near-profanities, our entire stands shook in his wake.

"KILL THEM! HIT THEM HARD!" He angrily shouted.

"I found it! I found it!" The angry crackberry mom announced as she turned to tell every fan on our side the name of the school we were playing. And, the scary screaming woman from the other side shouted even more.

It went on like this, and seemed to get even worse to me, although the football moms insisted that it was better than it had been that first quarter. The opposing fan display was so bad, in fact, that the screaming woman kept right on screaming her support even during half-time when there were no players on the field.

"Does she know that they aren't playing right now" I asked friendly football/crackberry mom.

"Apparently, NOT! I think this must be a blue-collar type of team or something," she cracked.

The game was very close and, while our team was actually much better than this team, their players and coaches poor sportsmanship and rough play seemed to match their scary fans. Their players would throw off their helmets when a call went against them and stop around like angry two-year-olds. My son swears he even saw a player run by and slap at one of our team's coaches. The refs, eventually just gave up and started calling ridiculous calls in the scary team's favor. Perhaps they feared the consequences if not. My husband later told me their coach didn't shake the other coach's hands at the end of the game.

I made a discreet phone call to my husband in the middle of the game.

"Look, I know you are busy," I quietly said. "But I am going to need for you to watch for us after the game if we win. I'm a little frightened that we won't make it to the car."

And on and on it went, as we enduring the screaming woman and the running fat man and the horrible demands they were spewing out of their mouths to their players.

When the game was neck-and-neck and with only minutes left, our football moms had really had enough. They began stopping their feat loudly, shaking the stands in one big suburban mom show of unity and support. Hoop earrings swayed and padded football chairs rocked as a very wholesome-looking Grandmother screamed out and glared at the opposing fans,

"STICK IT TO 'EM, JOHNNY!"

Wow, I didn't see that one coming, I thought.
The buzzer sounded and unfortunately our team lost by one touchdown. But, the friendly, crackberry football mom was not going to let their fans get the last word in if she could help it.

"I'm SORRY!" She screamed as she stood up and looked up at the obnoxious fan next to us. "I wasn't AWARE that this was the SUPER BOWL!" And, with that, she grabbed her pee-wee football paraphernalia and stormed out of the stands.

When it was all said and done, I felt like I'd sort of bonded with these football moms with whom I'd previously felt no connection. Like we'd united from the trauma of it all. That, and I learned something very important that game--apparently, pony-tailed, hat-wearing football moms with too much makeup and jewelry on are NOT be trifled with...

Before I answer my tease...an award, if you please!

Two of my favorite bloggers have been holding these monthly Perfect Post Awards for several years now. It's a great way to tell someone that something they wrote really was great, be it funny or moving or whatever. Well, Lindsay and Kimberly are about to retire the awards at the end of this year, but there's still enough time to recognize a few more people.

Another blogger I've followed for several years, Karen Sugarpants (also know as Troll Baby!) wrote a post that really tore at my heart recently.. It was the kind of post that I know was so hard to put out there, but I hope it gave her some closure and strength to just write about it. But, to write about something so painful and still come up with something so eloquent, well that has to be recognized if you asked me.



So, to Sugarpants, for having the guts to put it all out there and for surviving what had to be a difficult young life, I give this Perfect Post Award for October 2008. Hugs to you, Karen! And, thanks!

How a season can change you...

I've made no secret of my difficulty of getting into my son's first season of tackle football. I gave in and let him play a year earlier than I swore I would ever let him. He is typically one of the tallest boys in his grade, and in this league he is the youngest and next-to-smallest player on the field. He's playing with and against kids who have a good 25-30 pounds on his small 68-pound frame.

It has really had me on edge.

But, what really didn't help things was my disconnect with the other "football moms" on our team. From my first practice, I knew I'd have trouble meshing with this group. Typically, I have no trouble at all with that.

What I saw were parents that were entirely too into their children's sports activities and I felt like they were taking it all entirely too seriously. There were window sticker decals for the cars, t-shirts with your child's name on the back and the real thing that sent me over the edge--a HOMECOMING party with requests for gifts for our cheerleaders.

I just found it all silly considering this is a team of 3rd-5th graders. And, I openly mocked it on a regular basis to my husband.

Slowly, both my son and our family have gotten used to this different sport. The intensity, the multiple practices a week for longer periods of time than we've ever had practice before. My son has played t-ball, baseball, 5 seasons of soccer, basketball and now football, so it shocked me at how hard the transition has been really.

But, lately, I've felt like I'm finally starting to get it a little more. I've seen benefits that football has brought to my son. He's the youngest on the team, but has earned a lot of respect and even a little popularity with his teammates because he's actually been pretty darn tough. A huge kid will lay him out in practice and he pops back up again and again without complaining. This is a child who has really had trouble being too sensitive most of his life.

I've seen him realize what hard work means, how it feels to be on a winning and a losing team, and how you can really improve your own skills with hard work and practice--something that piano lessons just didn't seem to do for him (as I'd hoped it would).

Today, we had a game experience unlike one I have experienced in a great while. And, through it all, I think I've changed a little.

And...that, folks, is your teaser...come back for my next post where you will find out just what happened at our last game!

Laugh now. Monday's over.

OK, it has been a seriously busy bee-otch-with-a-capital-B kind of a week here, people. Hence the lack of postage as of late. So, you get bullets. Deal.

The good news (Read--look at me. I'm an optimist. Wheee!):

• I finally got a work project from the consulting guru in the sky. Money, money, money--come to Mama! Cha-ching!


• I managed to go to a pretty darn fun and definitely fancy costume party this weekend and pulled off an almost too short go-go dress and boots. Those boots were made for walkin'...


• I finally had my son allergy tested today and he did not kill me for doing it, even after all 35 scratch tests on his back...the poor lad.


• Sunday, I pulled off a feat of epic busy mom proportions when I did the following: taught at Sunday school, came home and worked for an hour, made chocolate lava bites for later, got the daughter dressed and to a far away birthday party, drove there and back, and made it back in time for a pumpkin carving block party.


• Got lots of pictures of the costume and block party and I have a date to scrap tomorrow with a new friend. I even successfully air brushed away a second and third chin line AND whitened my teeth in one shot and they're ready to process and scrap. Yippeee

Now, the bad news (Read, oh, come ON. Don't you know me by now? Like this is any surprise, people!)

• The work project is already done and dang it if I didn't earn enough to pay for that digital SLR that I have been coveting for about 5 years now...looking into selling bone marrow for lenses soon.


• All my pictures from the costume party were blurred beyond recognition because my darn point-and-shoot-piece-of-crap camera blew it again. See the previous bullet about bone marrow, please.


• My son is now labeled "highly allergic" to, well hell...everything just about. All grasses, molds, dust mites, cats, Houston air. He now has to start shots weekly. Great. How many Sonic slushies am I going to have to buy over the next 3-5 years to make up for this to him?


• Dude! Did I really admit just that airbrush comment aloud? Note to self--buy Crest White Strips tomorrow at Wallyworld. Second note to self---lay off the damn chocolate lava bites and get on the blasted treadmill, you jabba-the-hut-necked woman!


• I just had to retype this entire blog post because stupid blogger hiccuped on me and I lost everything. It is not as funny the second time around. Sigh.

In case my self-deprecating chin humor did not make you laugh, I'm quite certain one of my longtime favorite blog reads will do the trick today. Sheryl had me in stitches with this one.

What's chirping over at Twitter today...

Sometime days you only have time to chirp away on Twitter all day and can't get it together enough to form a blog post. So, what do you do?

Why you just post a list of your tweets for the day to A>establish that you do have actual THOUGHTS during the day, but B>simultaneous prove that you might, in fact, be certifiably insane for those thoughts.

For example, here's where my mind wandered today--for your enjoyment, for those who aren't on Twitter:

• Things that annoy me--white tags sewn into decorative pillows. You can't cut them off w/out leaving some tag or cutting up the pillow. GAH!
  
• Tried the ripping technique with the second pillow I bought. Almost tore the fabric. Damn commie pillow manufacturers...
  
• Queen size pillow cases for the sheets when I have standard. GAH! I think I'm having an Andy Rooney kind of day...
  
• Why don't Euro pillows look on my bed like they do in the picture? All I wanted was 2 free my guest room from its quilted tomb of 10 yrs!
  
• Dear European pillow maker--what is the purpose of your pillow shape? Do Europeans enjoy square un-ergonomic pillows? Are they more narrow people?
  
• Strange non-political observation o' the day--my son's Shane Battier (Houston Rockets) bobblehead looks almost exactly like Barack Obama...
  
• YES!!!! My consulting boss finally is sending me work! FINALLY!
  
• @momster That reminds me, I need 2 finish sewing up my daughter's stocking so she have it this year. You know, since she's 4-1/2...grin
  
• Realizing I too have trouble remembering which all those tiny northern states are--but trying to hide that from my 9 year old...very sad.
  
• As cliche as it sounds, I could really use a freakin' V-8 right now.

It is what it is...

I've gone through periods on this blog where I imagine reading got downright depressing. I've had a lot of struggles over the past few years in dealing with my health condition(s) and trying to come to grips with some things. I suspect I have had some depression, that I've tried to battle as best I can, actually.

Today, may be one of those posts, but it is also one that I'd love to hear back from you on because I'm trying to work through some things.

Today I had a full body scan and then a sonogram done of my carotid arteries for the weight loss program I'm about to begin through my doctor's office. The sonogram I had done about a year ago. I can't remember, but I think I blogged about it. The results, back then, were not pretty. I had the arteries of a 50-something when I'm a late 30-something. The doctor was concerned, put me on cholesterol medication and I tried to get on track.

At my last exam, more than three months ago, the doctor praised me for losing 12 pound in the past year. I didn't even realize I'd done that. When you have such a bad body image that you're never happy with how you look, it takes a lot to really make an impact. I was still overweight, but I admit it felt good to hear that. My blood work was coming back great and he was very pleased, saying I was an ideal patient.

I went home feeling pretty good.

And, then the wheels came off my "ideal patient" wagon and I went rolling out of control. It is time to admit some things I am embarrassed and humbled to admit. Part of getting on track is making yourself accountable, and that is what I'm trying to do.

• I have not consistently taken my medications. I hate medicine and I've allowed myself to "forget" to take my evening pills too often than not.
  
• I have not been testing my blood sugars...uh, for a long time. So long, that when it came time to enroll in this weight loss program I had to actually SEARCH for my blood glucose monitor. My fasting blood sugar is supposed to be around a 70 each morning when I test (usually around 7 a.m.) . Today, the doctor's office tested it at 140--at 8:30 a.m. Not good.
  
• I have not worked out as I should, although this one was not in my control thanks to Ike, then a broken toe. I suppose I could have found something--swimming? But, realistically, I needed to lay off until the foot healed.
  
• I have not eaten as I should. I am not saying I go and order a chicken fried steak weekly, because I do try to pick healthier options when I eat out. But, I have not JUST ordered grilled chicken and steamed veggies either. What I have done is not enough, period. And, I have not curbed my nighttime snacking or my portions at dinner. Now, I pay the price with my waistline.
  
• My body image has now bottomed out. I have had a lot of negative talk and am back to the self-deprecating humor about how I look and how disgusted I am with myself. Again, not good.

So, what happened? Well, I'm not quite sure. But, I think that it happened due to a sense that I was just fine. that this problem was in control and I didn't need all of these steps to stay well. I wasn't exactly denying that I was a diabetic, but I thought I really didn't have to worry at least not now. Not for years, right?

Here is my harsh reality. My father is having surgery for a blockage on his carotid artery next month. And, when I went today as I was being scanned, I could feel my heart racing from the anxiety and fear. And, when the doctor told me the results, I had good reason for that anxiety. My arteries are now that of a 68- and a 57-year old.

And, I am humbled and scared. I realize now that I just can't let loose of my medications, of working out, of eating right like I have done. I can't and will never be able to be like most people. I DO have diabetes and it IS not stable. All drama aside, the facts are this--I am damaging my body and will cut my life short if I continue.

Message received. I am now trying to not get depressed from this news (very hard) and focus on being positive and doing what I need to do to get back to where I was 3 months ago, and then move even beyond that to lifelong healthy eating, consistent exercise and medication and testing my blood sugars daily (for awhile until I learn where I need to be to keep them steady).

One of the hardest things I'm finding about getting older is not watching my age go up on the scale, finding those first gray hairs, or grimacing at crows feet in my mirror. It is realizing that genetics plays a huge role in how we have to live our life for optimal health. And, you can't deny your genes and pretend they aren't there. You've got to accept the hand your dealt and learn how to play with it. I just have to hope that I can do that and win a few hands along the way now...