The Jennifer Blogs

My daughter and I were in the kitchen this morning. She was sweeping the maid's quarters (yes, we really have those just off our kitchen, only we use it for our storage closet) and I was making a protein shake. I'm trying to consume fewer calories, and this seems like a great way to start.

I poured too much protein powder into the blender, so I asked my 12-year-old daughter if she would like a protein shake also since I'd definitely have enough for two. She said she would love one. Then I told her one of the side effects.



Me: "It'll make your boobies grow."

Her: "YA-AY!" (Two syllables, very loud and enthusiastic-like.)



Okay, that's not actually what I said. But you needed to understand her reaction. Picture the reaction I *would* have gotten from a 12-year-old little girl who wants her boobies to grow.

Now imagine that was the response I got when I told her, "It'll give you gas."

Yes. She was excited. About getting gas. Cuz farts are funny.

I was getting ready to place my monthly order for oils, so I asked my husband if he needed anything. He said he needed more lavender. While I knew the answer, I still asked, "Have you been using your Thyme at night?" He said, "No. I've lost a few pounds and I don't think I need it anymore."



See, here's the thing. My husband makes snoring look like an Olympic sport. And, he wins the Gold Medal! (Good job, honey! See you in Beijing!) However, I got him to try using Thyme Oil at night about a year ago. He noticed he slept better. In fact, we both slept better. He slept better because he wasn't snoring. I slept better because he wasn't snoring. He loved how I didn't jab him at night anymore, so less bruising too! (The FDA will not allow me to tell you that Thyme oil keeps you from getting bruised, though.)



Anyway, the first night he used the Thyme oil, no snoring. The second night, no snoring. The third night, no snoring. In fact, he was so quiet on the third night that I woke him up from a sound sleep. He was TICKED. But I wasn't sure he was alive. (True story.) He had never slept so silently before! 



But here we are in Singapore and he's under the assumption he doesn't need the oils because he lost some weight and thinks he's not snoring anymore. 



So I blogged about him last night. Tonight it kind of smells like spaghetti in bed again, so I know he's got the Thyme on his feet. Plus it's very quiet.



Thankyouverymuch!

One of the nice things about living in Singapore is that it's pretty much disaster-proof. There are no typhoons or hurricanes. There are no blizzards or tornadoes. Singapore doesn't have monsoons or tidal waves. And there aren't even earthquakes.



But, just because there are no earthquakes doesn't mean you don't occasionally feel the earth move.



In fact, before we moved here, there were some huge earthquakes moving the ground in Indonesia. My husband was in Singapore on a business trip at the time and said he could feel the hotel swaying. He was high up on something like the 30th floor and everything just sort of tilted one way, then back again. I can only imagine what they felt in Thailand if here in Singapore --a whole other country, for crying out loud-- there were skyscrapers leaning to and fro.



Anyway, he's fast asleep (and snoring so loud I want to beat him with a shoe), and I'm catching up on my blog-reading. The poor guy woke up cuz he thought there was an earthquake. I was laughing so hard at Jen Lancaster's blog about ant killer that I was shaking the bed. But the thing is, it wasn't one of those laugh-out-loud-HAR-HAR-HAR kind of laughs. I was stifling it so as not to wake him up. (Okay, I may have snorted a couple of times, but they were quiet snorts.) Because I worked so hard to stifle the laughter, I ended up shaking the bed twice as hard as if I'd just opened up my gut and busted out the laugh.



No honey, it's not an earthquake. Go back to sleep. And quit snoring.

Hey Dirtbag,



I'm kind of curious how --even though my debit card is still in my possession-- you were able to steal the number, expiration date, and any other pertinent information you illegally acquired to go on this month-long shopping spree.



Lucky for you that account is *barely* used and fully-funded. And since I'm living overseas and use my Singapore account way more than my American one, I haven't been checking it on a regular basis. Lucky, lucky you.



Let me ask you about a few purchases though. Some of this crap really doesn't make sense to me.



BMC CHILDREN'S B - Is this some book club for your kid? Wow! You're such a role model. How I wish my parents had ripped off some other family so they could read to me.



AIC HYDRODERM S - What is this? Hydroderm? Sounds like some kind of face cream. But for $5.95, how great can it be? Maybe you know something I don't know. Perhaps you could give me some great tips for my combination skin. You must have acquired a wealth of knowledge with all that reading you're doing to your kids --you know from those books you're buying online using *my* debit card.



WWW.BLOGTOOLKIT.COM - Only $1.97? What a bargain! But did you know you can blog for free at MySpace? Seriously. And I won't even charge you for the great lead, so you won't have to enter *my* debit card number at the end of this blog. It's free. Seriously. Put the card down.



A few of these seem related -- GOOGLE MONEY PR, M2C GLOBAL, CONSUMERDIRECT.COM, PDF-LICENSE.COM, SEGPAYEU.COM. I'm wondering, are you starting a new business with my debit card? If so, please respond with the type of business you are starting. The start-up costs seem fairly cheap and I'm wondering about the income opportunities.



COLUMBIA HOUSE VIDEO -- How nice that you're watching movies. Reading books. Watching movies. Starting a business. You're very well-rounded, I'd say.



I saved the best for last. I'm sure you'll agree. This Travel Service thing. Yes, the most expensive post against my account. Please let me know how your vacation was and send some pictures. I can show you how to build a slideshow and post it on your MySpace page even. That is, if you decide to move over here where the blogging is free. Oh, and if they have Internet in prison.



Sincerely,



Jen




P.S. Who will read books to your kid while you're locked up for stealing from innocent expats? 


P.P. S. I'll use your Hydroderm if the stuff's any good.

My friend Robin posted a blog: "I love my husband, but ..." and challenged her readers to write an "I love my _____, but" blog also. So here it is.



I LOVE MY KIDS, BUT I REALLY NEED SOME TIME TO MYSELF.



Here's how my day typically starts: 

I wake up and quietly tiptoe to the kitchen to make an iced caramel non fat macchiato, but before I can even get a glass out of the cupboard, in skips my lovely, perky daughter, "Good morning, Mommy!" Then come the questions ... how are you this morning? Did you sleep well? Did you have a dream? Were you awake when Daddy left? What time did you get up? Do you want me to make you breakfast? Finally I answer her. "Yes, I want eggs. Pronto. And toast."

If I could just teach her how to make the coffee, I'd be set.



I'm homeschooling my son over the summer. Torture for us both, but it means he gets to make up a grade when we held him back a few years ago. So in the end, we all win. He wins cuz he gets to graduate sooner. We win cuz he gets a job and moves out sooner. See?



Don't get me wrong, I love my children. But a gift certificate to the spa would be nice. I'm wasting my breath writing that because my husband no longer reads my blogs. But if you see him, could you please tell him maybe I need a gift certificate to the spa?



What does going to the grocery store look like for you? Let me guess.


* You start out by making a list of what you need.

* You grab your purse, jacket, umbrella, bratty kids and head to the car.

* You drive to the supermarket and hopefully get a parking space. You tell your kids to quit fighting in the back seat or you'll stop this car right now and beat them.

* You find your spot and grab a cart. Maybe two if there's a lot on the list.

* You maneuver the aisles of the store, glancing at your list to make sure you get some of the stuff on it. Into the cart go the items you have written down, a few items you don't need (impulse buys), and some crap your kids throw in there that they *need.*

* You try to squeeze by some woman who is chatting with a friend, leaving her cart in the way so you cannot pass and are forced to turn around and go the other way just to get to the other half of the aisle she is blocking. You tell your kids to shut up as they whine out loud, "Why is that woman in our way?"

* You cuss under your breath, or maybe out loud (depending on which of my friends you are reading this at the particular moment)

* Once you have filled your cart, you approach the shortest line that will allow more than 10 or 12 items. You tell your kids to shut up or you will spank them right there in front of everyone.

* You tell your kids to stop grabbing at the gum/candy/chips/band aids/aspirin/tissues/disposable camera/whatever else is on the impulse shelf next to the register they think they need.

* When the guy ahead of you finally gets out of the way, you start putting things on the conveyor belt.

* You make the decision as to whether you really want the tampons since the clerk has to request a price check over the loud speaker. Forget it. You've got tissues at home. That's $6.99 you'll save on your bill.

* You pay the damages, grab your receipt, try to put the debit card/credit card/change back into your wallet before you leave the line so you don't lose it.

* You push the heavy cart back outside, begging your kids to shut up so you can just get home.

* You search for your car in the parking lot, hoping not to get hit as you walk up and down the rows of the parking lot.

* You shove the groceries into your trunk and tell your kids to crank the AC so it's cool when you get in there.

* You drive home, exhausted.

* You carry the bags into the house. By yourself. Your kids are no help and at this point you really just want them to go away.

* You unpack the bags and put everything away.

* Time for a nap.



Here's how I shop for groceries:

* Make my list

* Sit on my butt and open my computer

* Visit www.coldstorage.com.sg

* Type the items I want into the Search Box

* Add them to my online shopping cart

* Type in my debit card number
* Choose my delivery day/time

* Go to the pool


Next day:

* Groceries are here (someone else has bagged them, brought them here, carried them up 16 flights, and brought them in the condo and set them onto the table)

* I try to tip the guy, but he refuses

* I unpack my bags and put items away



Life is good. Groceries will be here in about a half hour and I'll be heading to the pool shortly after.



Grocery shopping here is so much easier than in the US!

Let this be a warning to any teenage girls reading my blog. Boys suck. Especially teenage boys. Don't let them fool you with their sweet-talking. Teenage boys leave their underwear on the floor at home. They are lazy. They don't make their beds. They sass back to their mommas. They wear the same thing days in a row without washing it. They are mean to their sisters. They are lazy. They hate school. They don't pick up after themselves. They lie. They are soooooo lazy. They are selfish. They don't wear deodorant unless you make them. They hate to get their hair cut. And did I mention they are LAZY?



Oh. My. Gosh. Being a mom is tough. Being mother to a teenage son is near impossible.



Here's just one small example. I am homeschooling my son over the summer to help him catch up where he has fallen behind. He will be able to catch up an entire grade by doing this. It only requires about two hours of work per day, five days a week. In other words, it doesn't interfere with your life if you get up a couple of hours early and get it done. Ya know, that's what a girl would do anyway.



But not my son. He still sleeps til noon. Then when he gets around to the schoolwork he notices he has WAY more than two hours worth of work ahead of him. Why? Because a good hour of it is correcting errors from the previous day's work. Things like "Capitalize the word *Spain,*" for instance. No matter how many times we go over capitalization and punctuation, he still insists on doing it the lazy way. "It takes too long to hit the shift key." WHAT?!? You're freakin' kidding me!?! 


I wonder if we had raised our kids milking cows and plowing fields if the boy would be less lazy? Or is it just a boy thing? Are all boys this lazy? Too lazy to hit the shift key? Too lazy to capitalize proper nouns? Too lazy to put periods at the ends of sentences? And how does he not realize he is creating more work for himself? Of course, it's more work for me too since I have to go over all the work. That makes me a very unhappy mum.



So to all my friends in Lakeland who are spawning off female children -- GOOD FOR YOU! YOU WILL LOVE LIFE! For Beth in Tokyo, I'm sorry to tell you that boys are lazy. Tell Naomi to get used to having to do *everything,* as D'Ette puts it. (She's used to re-doing all her brother's housework.)

And for you men who read this -- you *used* to be a boy -- what made you stop being so lazy? Or are you still lazy? If you are, you probably will be too lazy to leave a comment anyway.

This blog is in response to a quote I read -- something Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks reportedly said:


"I don't understand the necessity for patriotism. Why do you have to be a patriot? About what? This land is our land? Why? You can like where you live and like your life, but, as for loving the whole country... I don't see why people care about patriotism."



Let me first say that I have been a *big* fan of the Dixie Chicks' music. I'm not going to go burn their CDs or try to get people to boycott their music. I just think what Natalie said was stupid. 

I was *blessed* to be born in the USA. I could have been born in any country on Earth. Growing up I would sometimes think these really deep thoughts (deep for an 11 or 12 year old, anyway). What if I had been born in India? Or Ethiopia? Dang Sally Struthers and her pleas for money in foreign lands where children were starving while I got all the macaroni & cheese I wanted, straight from the box. Sometimes with a hot dog, even. I would honestly ponder this at night while I was laying in my comfy queen size bed after watching my very own TV.



Usually the feelings of gratitude would quickly pass. I'd fall asleep thinking how lucky I was to have been born in the greatest country on Earth, but wake up thinking about a boy I had a crush on.



Later in life I thought about it less and less. I started to believe I deserved certain things - clothes and shoes, privileges, an education, etc - because I was a white girl born in America. I mean, that's not what I thought on the surface, but that's pretty much what it boiled down to. I never thought about the fact that those things weren't rights. They were privileges. And I was seriously taking advantage of them.



Fast forward to now. I left the US for Tokyo in September, 2007. After living in Japan for a couple of months, we got to go home for Christmas. Then it was back to Japan for a few more months before the Singapore move in April, 2008. In a little more than two months I will have lived abroad for a year. I have never been more homesick in my entire life.



These past couple of weeks have been really bad for me. I miss my friends and my family. I miss my dogs. I miss my church. I miss the familiarity of life. Not just the food (we actually can get Kraft Mac N Cheese here, but it is outrageously expensive). I miss driving on the right side of the road. I miss understanding how the bank works. I miss knowing how to pay my bills. I miss being in the same time zone with all the people I want to talk to. The kids miss public school with their friends, and Tae Kwon Do and sleepovers. I miss small group and Tuesday meetings and my candle parties. I miss knowing how to do my banking. I miss talking to people I understand who also understand me. I miss English words (it's a TRUNK, not a BOOT). I miss money that I can identify quickly as being a quarter or a dime. I miss being allowed to browse in the mall without being attacked by every sales associate. I miss going to the post office and understanding their shipping rates.



Don't get me wrong. Singapore is awesome! There are a ton of things I love about this country. Just the fact that we get to be here - the experience - is such an amazing opportunity. But I miss my country. I miss my people. I've never been to Nevada, but if I were to meet someone tomorrow who grew up in Las Vegas, they'd feel like my next door neighbor and they'd probably become my new best friend.



My friend Ruth sent me a video while I was still in Japan. It was of the Blue Angels doing a fly-over and dropping a large American flag. I cried like a baby when I saw the Stars & Stripes. I've never cried at our flag. Until you've been away from your country and have had to learn "how they do it over here," you can't fully understand what it means to love your country.



My friend Robin married a Canadian who recently - finally - became an American. I think I'm prouder of him and happier for him than anyone else (except Robin).

One thing about Singapore, too, is that their government owns the media. In other words, every newspaper, TV station, radio station, etc is run by the Singaporean officials. You cannot say anything against them on TV or radio. You can't speak out against what they're doing or question them in any way. The people here don't seem to mind either. You can't complain to businesses if you are treated unfairly. People here just don't complain if they get bad service, a fly in their soup, or anything else that might cause a person in the US to file a lawsuit. Here you can't even talk to a manager about it.



My mom and dad were both in the Army. Both my brothers served in the US Navy. My husband was in the Army. I went to college. I know that people I'm very close to have served our country, yet it never meant to me what it does now -- now that I am so far away from the familiarity of the United States of America. So far away from Wal*Mart, Target, Panera Bread, Church of the Highlands, I-4, The Gulf of Mexico, Cows, Suggestion Boxes.



Still, I know we're here for a purpose. We aren't really sure what that is at that point, but we'll figure it out. And this weekend my friend Alicia has advised me to hit the Fourth of July festivities here in Singapore. It'll be a slice of America and I'm not gonna miss it! I only wish Natalie Maines could have been here every step of the way. Maybe, just maybe she'd tear up when the Star Spangled Banner plays and the fireworks explode overhead. I know I will. God Bless America.

I love Singapore for a lot of reasons. Probably the biggest reason is the melting pot of people. I have met other Americans, sure, but I've never in my life met so many Aussies, Brits and Indians. Then there are the Malays, the Thais and the Singaporeans themselves. There are also plenty of Chinese people here, and a few Japanese. All in one place!



I have one British friend who has introduced me to the practice of kissing on both cheeks. The first time we met - when I had dinner at her house - she greeted me with a half-hug and a kiss on my left cheek, then a kiss on my right cheek. Actually, these were more "air kisses" than actual kisses on my cheeks. I just rolled with it. I saw her again recently and I knew what to expect this time, so it was no biggie to do the mwah! on the left side, then the mwah! on the right side.



Later D'Ette wanted to know, "Mommy, why do you guys kiss on both cheeks every time you see each other?" I told her, "I think it's a British thing and we wouldn't understand. I kind of feel like an idiot doing it." She said, "You look like one."



I may look like an idiot (and sort of feel like one), but I also feel so posh!