Trying to be a regular blogger

Ok, so I haven't been a very consistent blogger lately...so, here is a feeble attempt.

The truth is, I'm not sure I'm such a great role model for my daughter. You see, I may be 33 years old, but I sometimes feel like a 14 year old adolescent male on many levels. Prove it, you ask? Well, last night, I spent 1 1/2 hours watching MTV getting caught up on "Real World" episodes and then chose to watch the premiere episode of "Road Rules" instead of watching the news. I also cursed when I realized that I had missed the latest episode of "The Hills". And if you're not 14 right now, you probably have no clue what the heck I'm talking about!

More proof? I laugh at stupid jokes and could probably make fart jokes that would make any other teen seem tame. Did you know that I spent 4 summers working as a backpacking guide, taking out 13-17 year old males on the trail? Yeah. I don't know why either. But, those were some of the best summers of my life.

If you can't beat 'em....join 'em! One of my favorite things to do was to make the kids trail pudding on the first night on the trail. To make it, you get your chocolate pudding mix (there are kinds made for the trail where you use water instead of milk) and you stick it in a large Ziploc bag. Mix with water...make it niiiiiice and thick. Then cut off a corner of the bag and "Squirt" it into each kid's bowl. And then giggle insanely as you watch their reaction to this thick brown substance being squirted in their bowl.

And if you're not 14 years old and reading this, you probably still have no clue why this is so hilarious. See? I told you! I am sooo not a good role model.

All this to tell you that last night, I took Natalie to the store to go order her birthday cake (a Nemo one, for her 3rd birthday next week) and as I carried her across the parking lot, she tooted. I looked at her and said, "What happened?" She proceeded to practically yell (just as we were reaching the store entrance of course), "My BUTT squeaked! Squeak! Squeak!"

The appropriate thing would've been to explain to Natalie that we use nice language (i.e not "but" but rather the much more tame "bottom") and we also say, "Excuse me" when butt, er, bottom squeaking occurs. No. My reaction was to clap my hand over my mouth and start laughing so hard that tears came out. I'm going to pay for this later, I'm sure.

Thank you all for your well wishes on my dreaded injuries. I still have some tenderness. However, I also am constantly pushing on the tender spots to see if they are still tender. That probably doesn't really help the recovery process now, does it?

I am one who does not go to the doctor unless I'm dying. And seeing as I'm not dying yet, I haven't gone. I'm not scared of the doctor. Just stupid and stubborn. I'm giving it a few more days...heading out for a run this weekend regardless (just a short one, I promise) and re-assessing. And if it doesn't seem better, than perhaps I'll make good use of that health insurance that I pay for each month and actually use it. But, I can't promise anything. I'm pretty adolescent in that way.