Cheeky Lotus

My Daughter, the OG

2006-05-18T14:30:00.000-07:00

When I was in my very early twenties* about a hundred years ago, the local bar/pool hall/dance club featured "Half Price Monday". Since the bar was just across the freeway from where I worked at a Very Important Bank, it became a ritual for all of my fellow co-workers and I to go out on Monday nights for half price tacos and half price margaritas**.

Now, that was the way to do a Monday night.

Fast forward to Monday night six years later where we do this little thing called "Emergency Room Monday". That's where you observe your four year old daughter limping for no apparent reason, call her pediatrician and off-handedly inquire as to her advice, and immediately have the shit scared out of you with the good doctor shouting "Go! Go! Now! We haven't much time!"

So, with fire in our pants Chris and I raced her to Urgent Care where we proceeded to hurry up and wait (by the way, is it a prerequisite in Emergency Rooms that they must possess an incredibly rude bitch at the admitting desk?).

After two hours of observing my daughter hobble around the waiting room and frequent calls to my mother to remind me again why S would not burst into flames from a limp, we were finally called in. And seen.

By a Doctor's Assistant.

For all that is holy, why am I waiting TWO HOURS TO SEE AN ASSISTANT?

He was nice and all, but I couldn't help but start quizzing him on the various maladies I'm well versed in.

"So, do you think it's ATS?"

"Uhhh..."

"Well, we know it's not septic hip because she's afebrile."

"Er..."

"Perhaps an x-ray to rule out bone abnormalities?"

"...Yeah. Good idea."

Don't mess with me. I'm Google schooled.

I was quite relieved*** to see that the x-ray showed that, if I do say so myself, my daughter has a lovely pelvis and femurs. So, we were sent home with some assvice to give her Motrin.

Yesterday when the limp hadn't improved I spent the bulk of the day terrifying myself on the computer.

I then called her pediatrician again who assured me it would resolve on its own in three days.

And if not, to just get her a cane and some bitches. You know, to go with the pimp walk.

Ok. She didn't. But, wouldn't that be a rockin' pediatrician?

So, this morning when S got me up at the butt crack of dawn because "the sheets fell off my bed" (the downside to making your child's bed only every other day), I followed her back to her room and along the way noticed my precious little girl had regained her lovely yet slightly pigeon-toed gait!

I was so relieved, I almost chased her just to see her run.

It was so much better than half-price tacos.

*I'm only 28 now, but I swear to God it seems I was just a naive babe then...and a movie was only a nickle.
**This is incidentally how I think I became pregnant.
***By which I mean I stopped bursting into tears every five minutes.

Good Conversation

2006-05-17T12:02:00.000-07:00

Further proof that having a child changes your life in ways you never thought possible. When else in my life experiences would I be asked this at 8:00 in the morning:

"How loud do you think you would scream if you were dropped in hot lava?"

Off To a Great Start

2006-05-16T18:33:00.000-07:00

As you have probably noticed, my blog currently looks like ass. The people over at Club Mom are attempting to import all of my posts and comments and they seem to have hit some glitches in typepad. Hear that noise? That's my teeth gritting.

I'll keep you posted.

Color Me Done

2006-05-15T09:16:00.000-07:00

For anyone who's counting I've painted 12, 649 cabinets. Yes I have! I'm so beyond tired that I almost pitched forward into my can yesterday, my fourth straight day of painting.

I'm hiding in the closet during the Open House and I swear to God, if one person comments negatively on my cabinets I will jump out and beat them with my paint roller.

Guess what resists being painted over? If you guessed ugly ass Oak, you win a paintbrush and a little space right next to me in the kitchen. Email me to claim your prize and I'll give you directions!

Yesterday I got the bright idea to wear my iPod since I had sung every Jewel song I know and S had taken over the TV, which meant Drake and Josh was on a continuous loop.

The moment I put those earbuds in and started relaxing into my painting hell with James Blunt urging me on, my daughter appeared at my side, hands on her hips, tears in her eyes, mouth opening and shutting like a fish.

I pulled out the earbuds.

'What?'

"Why are you 'noring me?"

"I can't hear you. I'm listening to music."

"I just said 'I love you'".

"I love you too honey".

I go back to painting. A nano-second later I see more crying and pantomiming.

"What?"

"This is the one where Drake breaks up with his girlfriend."

"Ooooh. Okay, enjoy."

Back to painting. Hear wailing in the distance.

"What?!"

"I said 'Can I have a pickle?' "

This is when I just opened the window I was painting around and jumped.

I Woke Up To This

2006-05-14T11:21:00.000-07:00

Beautiful cards, iced mocha, gossip mags, and gorgeous flowers.

No, you can't have my family. It would take years to train another one as well.

Your Grass Is Ass

2006-05-14T09:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Neighbors #1, 2, 3, 4, and 5,

Thank you so much for taking such pride in your yards and bringing the whole community down with you.

Now that I'm trying to sell my house, I can't tell you how much I enjoy feasting my eyes upon your meticulous efforts to maintain your front lawns when I drive by every single day.

Perhaps when you moved in you were told that this neigborhood had self-mowing lawns. I sympathize, I had the same confusion with the inexplicable self-cleaning oven, but your field of waving weeds out your front window does seem to suggest some effort is required on your part.

Now that you've been here over a year surely you've noticed how those lawn elves aren't actually functional. They aren't exactly sneaking out into the night with their little mowers and taking care of that grass, now are they?

And how about the way you're letting your overgrowth meet up to the uncontrolled weeds sprouting up from the cracks in your driveway? Now, doesn't that just all come together nicely?

I did notice that you sure were quick to put up that 'No Soliciting' sign though. Is this perhaps to avoid being sold a lawnmower? Heaven forbid someone is rude enough to take up your valuable time spent laying on your living room floor not cutting your grass, but probably smoking it.

Oh, and an even bigger 'thank you' goes out especially to the neighbor that decided that the best way to avoid any manual labor at all was to plant fake grass. That is very clever, Sir.

Except for the fact that it looks as fake as your wife's breasts. Is this what you were going for? In that case, why not a nice shag carpet out front? And a couch? Or some linoleum?

Upon closer inspection though, I do think your decision to let the real weeds grow up and around the fake grass did add a nice touch of realism. Good thinking.

So, keep up the good work everyone! Really. My equity loss is coming out of your ass.

Sincerely,
The Neighborhood Lawn Whore

Rum and Enlightenment

2006-05-12T23:59:00.000-07:00

Ah, yes. Rum and Coke. Sweet nectar of the gods. Well, of the Australian bartender anyway. I told Vi I’d pay her $50 if she asked him where the wallabies hung out. I was pretty toasty by then.

It was so nice to put down my paintbrush and head out to a bar with my best friend. To just laugh and talk and argue and laugh some more.

We toasted our first drink to Jessica. Our second was to us. Living life to the fullest and cherishing our families.

The thing about her death today is that as much as we didn’t want to TALK about it, we didn’t need to. It was unspoken between us as we discussed the highs and lows of our day, as we complained about our kids, as we made each other laugh. We could see it in each other’s eyes: appreciation. For each other as kindred spirits. For our healthy children. For our wonderful husbands.

We laughed deeper, we cried easier, we talked longer. We drank it all in. That’s the most you can ask to learn from another’s death: how to live.

So, as our evening drew to a close and the clock ticked away the hours, we didn’t want to leave. We attempted to make plans to head toward the coast for more drinking. But, we both knew that what we really needed was to go home early tonight. And hug our kids. And snuggle up with our husbands.

And embrace our imperfect and blessed lives.

If It's Not One Thing, It's Your Mother

2006-05-12T18:36:00.000-07:00

If you have ever wondered where I get my sense of humor, let me assure you it is completely from my mother.

While here for two days getting my house ready to list to sell, she said this:

“You really need to get rid of that lamp in the living room. It makes me feel like I’m getting a gynecological exam.”

Does it really?

Goodbye, Friend

2006-05-10T21:39:00.000-07:00

With a heavy heart I direct you to a blogger whose wit, intellect, humor, and bravery have made me a better writer and a better person.

She will be missed greatly.

Clever

2006-05-09T16:50:00.000-07:00

It's happened. My daughter's intellect has finally surpassed my own.

Today she and I went grocery shopping. Due to the allergies and the stress and the work and the house, I've been a little off. When I'm distracted like this, I tend to repeat everything S says in an effort to trick her into thinking I'm actually participating in the conversation. I know, Mother of the Year Nominee, right here!

So, as I'm taking her out of the car in the parking lot at the store, she says:

"Grandma calls me 'Boo'."

"Boo?"

"No," she says, "Hoo!"

"Hoo?" I ask.

"Don't cry, crybaby!" Then she falls into a fit of giggles.

Sure. Kick me when I'm down.

Attachment Parenting

2006-05-08T12:46:00.000-07:00

I admit I lost my sense of humor when I found out that the check from my client that I assumed was on its way has not actually even been issued and would now be in next month's pay cycle.

And I admit that I used words that would make my mother blush when I received the email from said client this morning informing me that the delay was due to them not being able to open the attachment which contained my invoice. THREE WEEKS AGO. So, let me get this straight. You could not open the attached invoice THREE WEEKS AGO so you then decided that rather than calling me, or emailing me, or faxing me, or sending a damn homing pigeon, you would instead IGNORE the submitted invoice.

Until. I. Asked. About. It.

What would you have done if I had never followed up? Never paid? Considered the 54 baskets a gift from the kindness of my bleeding heart?

Okay, well here's my new delivery process on your baskets. I'll deliver them, not when you place your order, but once you call and ask where the hell they are. How does that work for ya?

Did I mention that I have about 45 cents to my name which is only about $1,299.55 cents short of what I need in the next 48 hours to get my house ready for the market. I didn't? Well, now you know why I'm shoving a pencil through my eye right now.

-----

p.s. - To everyone who read my title and said,"Oh, good. This will be interesting." and then, well, it wasn't, I apologize.

Your Clarification, Should You Choose To Accept It

2006-05-07T19:18:00.000-07:00

I've gotten quite a few emails from you guys asking what Club Mom is and how my writing for them affects my current blog here.

Here's further clarification.

Club Mom is an online community for moms to meet other moms with similar interests. You join, complete a profile, and then you can search for other moms based on what's important to you. Like for instance, for me I looked for other moms who like to drink Stoli from their water bottle during playgroup and then lie about it. I'm joking of course!

I never lie about it.

I did actually do some random searches, like for other moms with young daughters, moms who live in California, moms dealing with stress, etc. Then I added them all to my network to harrass for advice later. It's a pretty cool way to immediately connect with another mom. Sort of like online dating except without the part where your new "friend" is actually a 60-year-old man with a foot fetish who lives with his mom.

Club Mom also has advice columns, articles, and, now blogs, on every earthly subject written by...uh, moms. Enter me.

Anyway, the point of this post is to let you know that when my new site is launched Club Mom will be redirecting my traffic from this web address to the new one at their site. So, my address will stay the same. Do not remove me from your link list! All traffic will be redirected. Unless of course, you want to remove my link. Then in that case, knock yourself out. I probably don't like you anyway.

Hopefully, that clears up all the questions I've received regarding my vague description of what the hell was going on. So much for my attempt at being all mysterious and interesting.

Also, I've seen my new setup and I am relieved to see that they changed very little on my banner (Hear that sound? That's Kelly yelling "Damn right they did!"). My new blog looks very similar to this one. Just...smaller. Think Mini-Me.

The content, of course, will stay the same. My ulcer will not.

In other words, next week is the beginning of Writer's Block Fest 2006.

My Bologna Has a First Name - It's B-R-O-K-E

2006-05-06T21:26:00.000-07:00

Hi. My name is Lena and I'm a stressaholic. No, really.

The moment that life seemed somewhat normal again and I actually started sleeping at night instead of propped at my desk in my nightgown doing "people searches" on my old elementary school teachers, and my hair finally stopped falling out in tufts the size of small pets, and I could even start a sentence with "I feel..." without bursting into tears, I apparently decide life is now boring and needs to be shaken up.

You know, so that I can have something new to lose my hair over and cry about.

That is the only explanation I have for why in God's name I would decide to start a new job, overhaul my existing job, buy a new house, and sell this current house. All. This. Month.

The way finances sit in this house right now (as if they freaking have time to sit; they hardly have time to wipe their feet and take off their coat before they are rushing off to more important things like mortgage payments and insurance), we are in need of extra cash.

And by extra cash I mean for those days I really want to spoil myself with, you know, Tide instead of All.

But, I've been mooching off my husband for awhile now and while I now know I should be making $134,00 a year, I keep checking the mailbox and I'll be damned if that check hasn't made it's way here yet. Maybe they misspelled my name. That always happens.

So, mama's going to have to get busy. More writing, more gift basketeering, more ebaying, more budgeting, more organ harvesting.

Because if we do not sell this house within the next few months, we will have two mortgages. That's right, I said TWO. Which just so happens to also be the exact number of days for which we could afford to do that.

I hope bald and weepy is the new look this season.

Manic Momday

2006-05-05T11:36:00.000-07:00

I'm sure you've heard about The Study that was just released that evaluated a stay at home mom's workload and what these duties would be worth in the real world of employable skills.

$134,000 a year.

That would be your salary if you were doing all the things you do already (you know, those things no one ever notices unless they don't get done?) for a stranger instead of for those little people you birthed.

However, this study only looked at the menial labor.

For me, the hardest part of leaving a successful career and staying home was not the diapers, nursing, and cleaning.

It was the sobbing, loneliness, and sobriety.

I chose to have a baby at the worst possible time in my life - a period of two years where I had next to no friends. I quickly realized after four weeks of being home all day that my "friends" had all been work-related. This hadn't always been the case, but alot had recently changed in my life and my old friendships were practically non-existent and my work friends were, well, working.

To this day I'm not sure if I had post partum depression or not. I never had visions of harming my baby, but I did feel utterly despondent. Completely alone. Isolated.

I would fight tears from the moment I woke up in the morning until I went to bed at night. For. Two. Years.

My house was mostly clean. Dinner was always on the table. My baby was happy. See? Even if her mom was a bit manic.

Me, I was broken. I felt like I was screaming inside and no one could hear me. I would go to playgroups and the other moms sounded like Peanuts' parents. Wah-wah-wah. I was in a thick fog of confusion and sadness.

How much was that worth? How much was my sanity worth? My joy? My laughter?

How much would I have paid in those hours to get up, put on a suit, and walk out the door with my husband in the morning?

See, what sociologists will never get is that the physical tasks of mothering are not what make it so difficult and precious. It's not what we're doing. It's what we're not doing. And how we feel about that.

The "jobs" we perform pale in comparison to the heartache, guilt, and joy our pendulum swings between. And that's just before breakfast.

Here are the things you get a steady dose of at home that you cannot possibly compare to the office:

Guilt - When was the last time you cried yourself to sleep because you thought that spreadsheet didn't get enough attention today?

Loneliness - Could you ever go entire days at the office without talking to or even being seen by a single adult? Even when you wanted to?

Self Image - Did you ever detect smirks at a dinner party when you said you were Director of Operations or Manager of Sales? Probably not. You probably also didn't get this response: "All day? I don't know how you do it."

Thankless - How unexpected would it have been for you to go to the office every two hours throughout the night? Think that would've gotten you noticed?

Body Image - A long day at the office never produced vomit on your shirt and ginormous leaky breasts. And you probably never went into your boss' office and asked "Do you still find me attractive? Can you hold me?"

Pride - There's no promotions and no raises. You're sure to get fired in 18 years with no pension (unless he's going Ivy League). Yet, there is no greater responsibility than the one we have as mom.

There's so much more at stake with this new job. And we know it. That's our value.

Sweeping, mopping, dusting, coloring, vacuuming, cooking, scheduling, scrubbing, wiping, creating, driving, shopping, bathing, playing, tickling, talking, yelling, laughing, singing, reading, threatening, weeping, hugging, dancing : $134,000

Knowing you've gotten through another day without giving up: priceless

It's Not the Size of Your Shamless Plug, It's How You Use It

2006-05-03T18:29:00.000-07:00

I wanted to write something amusing today, but I've been busy Clubbing Moms and, well, my arm hurts.

I did want to update you all to let you know that it looks like my new blog will be launching next week. (So, go join! And find me and add me to your network.)

This pleases me to no end to get this kind of news because I was starting to worry the Head Mom Clubber - who I'm pretty sure is her and I'm pretty sure she was up late deciding on my new template - had changed her mind about me. Perhaps due to my anemic posts. Or the world's longest run-on sentence.

This makes me realize that I'm a little insecure for internet employment. I'm always assuming every communication is my last communication. (How do I know they got my email though Chris? But, how do I REALLY know?).

Fortunately, they are willing to overlook my virtual neediness and we've been working on my new home this week. I am mostly pleased. I can't wait to hear what you think. Because without knowing your opinion of me, how would I know how to feel about myself?

So, save a baby seal and Club a Mom won't you? Personally, I think my pelt would make a lovely purse. I moisturize alot.

Wait, Watch Her

2006-05-02T10:54:00.000-07:00

If you’ve ever been to a Weight Watchers meeting then you know how weird they can get. I’ll be the first to say that I am impressed and inspired by people who have faced their addiction (or in my case, their boredom) and overcome this weight demon. I truly respect the effort put forward and how important a sense of community is to any challenge. I cry at Extreme Weight Loss Challenge – I get it.

What I don’t get is the melodrama.

I re-joined Weight Watchers this week and yesterday was my first meeting. I know you’re all thinking I must have some sort of eating disorder because I appear thin.

Well, you’re right.

I think about food ALL THE TIME. From the moment I get up until I go to bed, if I’m not eating, I’m thinking about eating. And the organic berries topping the all natural yogurt with homemade granola I have in the morning? Yeah, that’s just to appease the Angel on my shoulder when I reach for the Doritos ten minutes later and hand them to the Devil. And that bitch can eat.

Although I am currently at an average weight, it is not average for me. The last time I weighed this much, I was pregnant.

I think that bears repeating.

I was growing a human the last time I saw this number. Awesome.

Plus it really isn’t about the scale. It’s about arresting this bad new habit before it gets out of control. I’ve gained 10 pounds in two months! That is not okay. After my dad died last year, I comforted myself with food all year. I allowed it to assuage my fear and sadness.

But, now it is time to reconnect with the old Lena. She was active. She ate smart. Her ass was perky. Most of all, she was happy and funny. This one, not so much. Cranky and gassy mostly.

So, I weigh in last night and as expected everyone is looking at me with a furrowed brow like I’m Nicole Richie in the donut shop with her bag of carrots. For this reason, I stay pretty silent during the meeting. I figure I don’t need to explain myself. I know I have a problem and just because I’m not “as big as” doesn’t change that.

Well, the consultant kicks off the discussion by congratulating people on things they thought about.

Consultant: “Now we have someone who did something very special. Jennnnniiieee! What forces did you put in motion this week with your adjusted behavior?”

Jennie: “Well, (pause for effect) I woke up one morning and realized I hadn’t written down the baked chips I had the night before. They were only one point, but I went back and wrote them down.”

We applauded this. Yes. Then Jennie got a sticker.

What the hell?

Don’t get mad. I do understand that you should encourage yourself with the little things and take it one day at a time, but I guarantee that by the looks of Jennie, baked chips are not what got her where she is today. The reality is that where a major overhaul is needed, tiny baby steps are just going to frustrate you and prolong the process.

Don’t condescend Jennie, or me, by celebrating every damn thing we do. That only takes away from the real achievements. Like refraining from licking the frosting off of every single leftover cupcake after (or during) your daughter’s party, or shouting your Starbucks order from across the room in order to avoid the sample tray. Those are accomplishments.

Something just tells me that if Jennie doesn’t get real, she will one night soon end up on the floor in front of her fridge surrounded by “two point bar” wrappers, face covered in chocolate and pound cake, rocking back and forth mumbling “four plus the five at lunch minus two, carry the one, add the six…”.

The Weight Watchers program, the point system, all of it, are guidelines. They are to be incorporated into your real life to help you change your habits. Not replace your real life.

So, at the end of the meeting when the consultant got out a Tupperware dish and said “I brought you all something” and then opened it to reveal magnets, I leaned over to the lady next to me and said “Oh, I thought they’d be cookies.”

Then I laughed quietly to myself. Apparently, cookies are not something to joke about.

Anniversary, Happy

2006-05-01T16:23:00.000-07:00

Today would have been my parents' 30th wedding anniversary.

That is, if my father hadn't alternated between abusive and weepingly apologetic for 25 years causing my mother to finally leave him for the 84th and final time taking me with her and cutting him off, causing him to suddenly and urgently need me in his life and then continue to manipulate me for five years including, but not limited to, agreeing to walk me down the aisle and then backing out two weeks before my wedding, compelling me to cut him out of my life until I had my daughter where he showed up at the hospital with big promises and then made himself scarce for three more years until 18 months ago when he called begging for another chance in my life, which I was so emotionally wrought over I almost went out of mind, but ended up agreeing to, only to have him call the following week to tell me he was dying. Which he did, four months later. And I was the only one there.

Happy anniversary mom and dad.

Write of Passage

2006-04-30T21:30:00.000-07:00

I've never had trouble writing. Writing is just another form of talking and I can talk my ass off. Especially if I'm drinking.

If!

Hahahaha...ha...heh...hmmm.

But, now that I'm getting paid - paid! - to write I cannot seem to form a cohesive post. For the last week every entry has begun like this:

~~"Today was a good day. It was fun. I did alot of things."~~

And then,

~~"Being a mother is hard. It is not easy. It is hard. Being a mother is sometimes not hard. ....But, mostly hard."~~

This is then generally followed by me scratching at my chest until I break out into hives.

Help me.

I Like Long Walks In the Park and Short Cold Baths

2006-04-29T19:02:00.000-07:00

It really came down to first time parenting.

Last night S. had a 104.6 fever. I don't know about you, but any fever above 102 makes my heart pound and I start sprinting around the room in circles repeating "It's okay! It's okay! Everyone stay calm. It's...all...fine. Everything is okay. Just...everyone stay calm, won't you?!!!"

Which was exactly my reaction upon reading the thermometer. I am so very grateful that we had taken her to the doctor's earlier even though she seemed to be feeling better. That way I at least had the fact that a doctor laid eyes on her that day and yet allowed us to leave, running in the back of my head.

I started barking random contradictory orders to Chris and immediately called my mother-in-law. She was a nurse for decades and I find her incredibly soothing in these circumstances. She told me to start a cool bath and mop S under her armpits with cool rags.

With the phone on one shoulder I began frantically stripping and mopping S down in the bathroom while she cried and shivered. All the while talking a mile a minute straining to be as soothing as possible.

"Ohyoujusthavealittlefeverthat'sokaythisisnormalIknowit'scoldwe'realmost
donetomorrowmommy'sgoingtobuyyoutwentytoys..."

My daughter, being bright, picks up on the fact that I'm foaming at the mouth and seems concerned.

I then made the mistake of cheerfully asking "You want mommy to get in the bath with you?" Which she of course agrees to.

And then once I am actually freezing my ass off in the ice water, decides she's not joining me.

I coax her to the edge of the tub where I convince her to at least dangle her feet in while I read her a book.

So, imagine if you will. I am naked and sitting in a frigid bath reading a book to my feverish child who is gingerly resting on the edge of the tub wrapped in a fashionable towel.

As if that wasn't awkward enough (and completely pointless) add my husband to the mix, whom I have actively prevented from seeing me nude recently due to the recent weight gain and who now gazes upon me fat, pale, naked, and for the love of god, sitting, in the tub.

I am happy to report that the fever was eventually brought down and with my child intact. I wish I could say the same for my pride.

You Give Me Fever When You Kiss Me, Fever When You Hold Me Tight

2006-04-26T10:33:00.000-07:00

What? What's that you say? My daughter woke up vomiting with a fever?

And I'm still sick?

And she was supposed to go to Grandma's for the weekend so Chris and I could have much needed time together?

To maybe go see a movie that doesn't involve animals escaping from a zoo for once.

And have adult conversations. And adult beverages. And adult activities.

Awesome. No. Really!

I cannot stand it when my daughter is sick. I've decided I was an idiot before and I much prefer her well.

Fashion Don’t

2006-04-25T15:38:00.000-07:00

I thought it was a cute shirt last week. Express has some killer sales and it was only $9.99. Soft, stretchy, and on clearance. A monkey would have walked out with it, it was such an easy decision.

However, I did have some reservations about how billowy it was when I put it on this morning. But I convinced myself that my lack of fat face, arms the width of thighs, and acne would assure strangers that I was not pregnant and that this was just “the style”.

I could not have been more wrong.

As soon as I got to the post office, a man rushed to get the door for me. Rushed. I tried to dismiss that until the same thing happened on my way out.

Later, at the grocery store I noticed not just one, but at least five different women check out my stomach. And they didn’t even look unsure. They would just look at my stomach, look up at me, and smile. A conspiratorially procreative smile.

Then at the checkout I tell the checker to ring me up for a case of water as well. He immediately runs off to get my water for me (something that is never done) and then intercoms that I need help out!

“Oh, I don’t need help out. I can lift the waters.” I tell the checker.

He looks at me, hesitating.

“Are you…sure…you can?” he asks.

“Oh, you mean, can I be trusted to put my own groceries in the car since I obviously cannot manage to make fashion choices that do not make me appear pregnant when I AM NOT?”

Okay. I didn’t say that exactly.

Actually, I said “I’ll be fine” and pushed my cart out of there feeling part idiotic and part strong fearless fertile woman.

The only way I could have looked more pregnant today would be if a child were actually crowning in the produce aisle.

What do you think? Hmm?

Letter B, Let Her Be

2006-04-24T12:11:00.000-07:00

I cannot think of one good reason why you would want to know this, but I have been sick more in the last two months than in the last two years. No joke. The same old congestion, cough, sinus pressure. Ugh.

That's why I've been sort of "off" this week - yet another relapse. Those incoherent sentences? And rambling stories? Yeah, that's my best work right now.

So, this morning at dance class the forced mommy conversation for an hour was torturous. Here's a snippet:

Mom1: "Lily wants her hair long and curly and BROWN!" (said in a fit of giggles).

Mom2: "You're kidding!!!! Taylor would kill for hair like Lily's! (this is shrieked at Mom3).

Mom3: "Little girls just love African Americans! The dark eyes! The skin!"

Me (inside my head): Wha....?

Mom2: "My daughter just loves to dress up!"

All three moms laugh as if this is the most hilarious comment ever.

Mom1: "Lily wanted dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes. Poor thing. She's blonde and blue-eyed!" (again with the hysterics).

Me: "Your husband might have had some questions".

Everyone looks over at me. Silence.

Can someone please tell me how this was not funny? Is it the DayQuil?

So, my day really turned around when I saw that the chalkboard sign of 'Specials' outside the seafood restaurant next to Starbucks, where S and I always go after class, had been messed with.

In 'Sea Bass' someone had erased the 'B' making today's special "Sea Ass". Which I thoroughly enjoyed.

And if someone can come to my house and help me bang my cell phone against the wall maybe together we can extract the picture I snapped.

Footsteps

2006-04-22T12:14:00.000-07:00

Every night when I put S. to bed, I resolve to be a better mother the next day. Something about watching her sleep, helpless and innocent, makes my heart swoon for her. And makes me hate myself. I promise to do more with her the next day.

And I rarely do. I still selfishly do my errands while dragging her with me, I get frustrated with her dawdling, and we go entire days without me sitting down with her to play dolls, color, or read.

I feel like a horrible mother because of this. I realize there are mothers more horrible out there, but given my love for my daughter and my position in life, there is no good excuse sometimes for my not playing with her. There are plenty of opportunities for me to spend time with her that I pass up, choosing instead to read my magazines, watch t.v., or blog.

I hate myself for this. I feel like she deserves more. She deserves a mother that’s more creative, more fun, more loving. A mother that doesn’t get lost inside herself, that doesn’t have unexplained crying jags, or that isn’t downright evil at certain times of the month.

And I don’t feel like simply having guilt is a testament to what a great parent I am. My father constantly cried, apologized, and lamented his life decisions. And you know what? He was a terrible father. It didn’t help me any that he felt badly about it. I don’t want to be that parent. And yet I often am.

I know exactly how it feels to be disregarded, to be ignored, to be screamed at, to be hit, by your parent. I definitely am not this way with my daughter, but maybe that’s the problem. I think, subconsciously, because I am not as bad as he was, I’m okay.

But, I know I’m not. I need to do more. Tonight I will promise myself that tomorrow I will. But, will I?

I Scare Easy

2006-04-21T10:02:00.000-07:00

My fear of taxis began about five years ago. Right around the time the movie "Bone Collector" came out (in which a taxi driver kidnaps and murders passengers) we had a similar thing happen locally.

One Saturday night a girl - a friend of a friend of mine - decided to leave a San Francisco club called "Bubble Lounge" - one of my regular hangouts- without her friends. She grabbed a cab and never made it home. Her body was found a few days later and the cab driver was arrested.

A few weeks after this event Chris and I headed to Las Vegas... where the cabs are plentiful. I made Chris promise me he would never leave me in a cab alone – that he would get in before me and get out after me every time.

We were only dating at the time and this cab phobia was on the heels of me melting down in Yosemite after Chris left me in a public restroom to pee alone. (Although two women had recently been kidnapped and murdered at a rest stop in Yosemite, so my alarm wasn’t completely unwarranted. What can I say – I watched a lot of news.)

So, while on the plane to Vegas I’m reiterating to Chris for the 400th time what my rules are regarding cabs. He is amused, but agrees.

Well, we grab a cab from the airport to take up to our hotel. The cabbie is a fat white guy without a lot of conversation. The worst kind, if you ask me. Please tell me about your kids. Wife? Lifelong dreams? That don’t include dismembering young girls?

We pull up at the hotel and we’re an hour before check-in. The valets are standing in the hotel’s circular driveway waving us through to keep moving. Well, Chris and I quickly agree that we don’t want to lose the cab if we can’t check in yet because this hotel is off the strip (The Hard Rock). Without a second thought, Chris jumps out and runs inside to check with the front desk, leaving me in the cab alone.

I immediately tell myself not to overreact, we’re just sitting in front of the hotel after all. There’s nothing he can do to me here. I do scoot over so I’m right against the door on Chris’s side, ready to bolt.

In the meantime, the valets are yelling at the cabbie to keep moving; that he can’t park there. The cabbie and I are both anxiously watching the doors, waiting for Chris to come back out.

Finally, the cabbie mumbles something and floors the gas pedal pulling out of the hotel and speeding down the street with me in the back. The doors lock automatically as we pull into traffic and take off. If you will, imagine. My. Panic.

I spin around and see the hotel getting smaller and smaller in the back window. I spin back around.

“What are you doing?” I am near hysteria.

He grumbles something about those “damn valets”.

I look at the door handle I am gripping in my hand. We’re going about 45 mph. I look at the door lock – it’s one of those tiny ones, but I think I can pull it up if I need to.

I picture myself bursting from the speeding taxi and rolling across the intersection. What would I do? If I didn’t get hit by a car first, would I start running down the median strip?

My head is on a swivel frantically trying to figure out what the heck this guy is doing as he speeds down the street for a full five minutes. I am actually hyperventilating.

I am literally pressed so hard against the door with one hand on the handle that I am indenting my leg. My cheek is smashed against the window straining to see.

Meanwhile, Chris has come back outside. And we’re gone. His heart jumps into his throat. He consciously tells himself there must be a reasonable explanation. He runs up to the valet and asks what he saw. He sprints to the front of the parking lot. Then he dashes to the median. Then races back to the hotel doors….

Back in the cab, just as I start to pull a little on the handle and say a prayer, I finally realize we’re going up the street to make a u-turn and pulling into the side entrance of the hotel.

Chris is standing at the front doors looking stricken as we race up the driveway. I shoot out of the taxi before it even comes to a complete stop and start crying.

Ever since my cab trauma I can’t help but laugh when I imagine how close I was to leaping out of that taxi and doing a tuck and roll across the busy intersection. I was this close.

Can you imagine? The cab driver getting out of the car, walking around to where I lay on the asphalt. Cars smashed up around me. And him saying “Ma’am. I was…only…going around the block.”

Smells Like Teen Spirit

2006-04-18T22:33:00.000-07:00

I think the only thing better than discovering the not-so-fresh smell in your daughter's room for the last month has been caused by your cat peeing in her sweater drawer, is realizing you forced your daughter to wear one of the aforementioned sweaters last night.

Fantastic. The next time that damn cat jumps on the treadmill, I'm letting him ride it out.

I'm sure you all can gather that the worst part of this is the fact that I'm being forced to do laundry. During my Tivo time. Is there no end to the abuse?

Andrew Shue Emailed Me Today and I Sat In My Closet - How Was Your Day?

2006-04-17T22:48:00.000-07:00

I didn't mention this to you all earlier because I surely wasn't going to set myself up, but awhile ago I applied as a writer for ClubMom as one of their featured bloggers. It appears that they like the way I murder a sentence...or Andrew is aware of all those VHS tapes I spent on Melrose Place...because they chose me out of many deserving applicants.

I...am...speechless.

When I received the offer today I literally read one sentence, buried my face in my hands, made Chris read the rest over my shoulder, and then promptly hid in the closet. Will this reaction concern them, do you think?

The fact that ClubMom feels I'm competent enough to represent them as a blogger is a huge compliment and I'm overwhelmed by the opportunity. I am honored. And published? Stop it.

My closet is calling me.

Why I'm Weird and Four Other Things You Don't Care About

2006-04-16T00:19:00.000-07:00

Shout out to Rockin Robyn for tagging me. With the recent departure from Thursday Thirteen I'd actually spent the last week not banging my head against my desk trying to come up with good content.

Thanks, Robyn. No. Really.

Five things you really don't need to know about me:

1. I pretend Dr. Phil is my dad.

2. I am obsessed with googling symptoms. If I or someone I love has the slightest symptom, you can bet that I'm diagnosing a random, often deadly, disease. This sucks. Mostly for them.

3. When I was 12 my best friend and I would crank call people from the phonebook. But, here's the thing. We would only call couples whose names were both listed. Then, we would ask for the husband by name. When the wife would say he wasn't there, we would act upset and claim to be his mistress. We did this many times. And many wives believed us. If I'm wrong and there is a hell, I am in big trouble.

4. My nose has been broken my entire life and I just found out last year.

5. When I was 14 I snuck out with my first boyfriend almost every night for a year. And we would park and talk. Never touching. And no, he wasn't gay. Just supremely patient. Who sneaks out to talk?!

p.s.- When I asked Chris "What's something weird about me?" he answered, "That you won't go camping when you're on your period because you're afraid the bears will smell you." I told him this was too much information for you lovely flowers. Was it?

This Is My Life

2006-04-15T11:00:00.000-07:00

It's so fantastic when you're cleaning your toilet. Especially if the toilet water splashes and a drop lands on your lip.

Raise your hand if you think this caused me to instinctively douse my face in bleach.

Awesome.

Monthly Letter

2006-04-14T11:56:00.000-07:00

Dear Blue,

You're exactly four and a half today. I informed you of this while we lay in bed together this morning. You asked me what that meant and I said that you are halfway to being five. You didn't like this. You said its taking too long. I know where you get your impatience.

No one warned me of this, but four seems to be the year that you lose the rest of your baby ways. You're very much a little girl now. You can sit in a restaurant with daddy or I and carry on a conversation almost like a grownup.

You've also become very self-conscious. You're aware of when we're watching you play and you get embarrassed if we smile. I don't know what to make of this, but I remember doing it as well. I'm sure I'm passing on those hardy insecure genes to you.

You're also quite observant of what other girls around you are wearing or how they talk. You want to grow up and fit in so badly and I just want you to stay safe by my side forever.

I went clothes shopping for you last week and forced myself to bypass the kittens and rainbows and pick up a few things I knew you really wanted, like sparkly tops and distressed jeans. You were so elated when I got home, you had to pull everything out of the bag and try it all on. You said you were happy because now you looked like me. This made me as happy as it did sad.

There are very few words you mispronounce now - pasghetti and waterlemon being my favorites.

I try and purposely misprounounce your newly pronounced words like you used to, "Do you want to go watch a movie at the 'veeter' (theater)?" or "Look at that pretty 'fowler' (flower)".

You don't like this. You think I'm mocking you. So, you're sure to correct me with exasperation.

Your phrases are the funniest. You asked daddy yesterday if the policeman was going to "roll him over" and you love to help daddy "move the lawn".

We've always had lots of pet names for you, but you've recently decided that daddy is to call you 'Monkey' and I can call you 'Bunny Rabbit'. My favorite's always been 'Blue', but I'm only allowed to use it on special occasions now.

And dear, you put the 'drama' in Drama Queen. Your new thing to do after a full day of activity is throw yourself around the house pronouncing this your "worst day ever". If I make a dinner you enjoy though, this is often upgraded to "your best day ever". It's official - you're all girl.

The only time you still remind me of that little baby that was all eyes is when you have your thumb in your mouth and your "memes" to your face. I immediately see those same sleepy blue eyes, the pacifier, the mop of blonde curls on your head. I love to kiss you right where the corner of your mouth meets your thumb.

I know this is a habit you should stop soon and that makes me sadder than you can know.

I love you.

Love,
Mom

What Happens In Vegas...Was Tame Enough To Drive the Car Home

2006-04-13T12:34:00.000-07:00

Is it just me or is the road trip your favorite part as you get older? When I was single, we'd all pile on the plane and that's where the party would start. Now, that I'm "domesticated" I actually get excited about car snacks. Because everyone know that calories consumed while going 75 mph aren't assimilated by your body. It's physics. Plus, all the uninterrupted magazine time. Ooooh, I'm getting all excited again just thinking about it.

So, we stayed at the Mandalay Bay Hotel, which wasn't bad, but you did get the vague feeling that with the new "The Hotel" they just built next door, the MB has become sort of the bastard child.

As soon as we arrived, we went looking for ~~drinks~~ sustenance. In Chris's defense, he just wanted to lounge around in the room. But, we all know what that means and I didn't want to mess up my makeup quite yet. So, we wandered downstairs to dinner.

If you've never been to Vegas, let me tell you that you are missing the best food on earth. Every meal we had was amazing. And amazingly expensive.

But, it feels free because you just say "charge it to my room", which is such an easy habit to get into and a difficult one to break. As my local grocery store this morning can attest to.

Our first dinner was awesome, but our waitress (wait person? food server?) was horrible. It was like she was purposely avoiding our table. At one point I asked the busboy to please get her, watched him tell her, watched her look at us and then walk away. Never to return.

So, later on our way back to our room in the elevator full of people, I asked Chris if he tipped her.

Chris: "Yes."
Me: "How much?"
Chris: "Twenty percent."
Me: "You gave her twenty percent?! Are you kidding?"
Chris: "It's not a big deal."
Me: "Chris, but that was the worst lap dance you've ever gotten!"

Of course, this being Vegas there were only a few snickers. But, Chris' face made it all worth it. He stared straight ahead for the next 16 floors in silence. While I giggled. Did I mention that in Vegas they actually give you a plastic cup for your drink as you leave? So, that you can continue to walk around with it? Or harrass your husband in the elevator? It's handy I tell you.

So, how was Dane Cook?

Dane was...Dane. You know, the usual. Pulling me up from the audience, swinging me around, and carrying me around on his shoulders for part of the show. I think it may have been a little awkward for the rest of the audience, but there's no stopping the Dane Train.

I finally asked him kindly to put me down...right there...next to my husband who I prefer. (He's just as funny plus he's a superhero and who doesn't love superheroes?)

Oh! You mean in reality.

He was very very funny. His very very skinny girlfriend sang the national anthem first. I thought that was a little disrespectful to me. You know, I was right there, but whatever.

My advice is to definitely kick off any vacation with a good comedy show. Nothing gets you in the mood for good times like laughing your asses off while shrieking in each other's faces "That's so true!". Chris and I were hysterical and it set the tone for the rest of our trip.

After the show, when we were good and liquored up, we decided to embarrass ourselves by paying $50!! to get into the hot nightclub, Rum Jungle. Then drinks were $10 each. Then Chris and I tried to dance to hard core techno that was literally vibrating my heart. It was dark, hot, and freaking loud. When did that stop spelling F-U-N?

Once I accidentally poured my drink down Chris' back trying to lean in to hear him better, we decided we were done. The way Chris figured it, that thrilling experience cost us $2.20 a minute. Awesome.

The next day we lounged by the pool and I read all my gossip mags, which are ancient news now thanks to The Green Straw. Chris and I amused ourselves by playing with our new cell phones and downloading various ring tones. (If you ever hear "Feel Good" by the Gorillaz while you're in the mall, I'm probably nearby. Me or one of 40,000 other people that have it.)

I can't tell you how nice it was to just lounge, read, and soak up the sun. And I was only occasionally bothered by my streaky spray tan and extra 10 pounds. That's a good day, my friends.

We had the dinner of our lives at Olives in Ballagio that night. All I have to say is "hand rolled Butternut Squash Raviolis". Hold me.

(Here Chris and I decided to mock the water show at Bellagio that all the Mid-Westerners ooh and ahh over. See the couple behind me really trying to take it seriously?)

We had a blast, but it is ~~required~~ good to be home now. Less the tattoos I thought for sure I could bully Chris into. Next time we'll get those matching dice. I can feel it.

p.s.- On a side note, I'm done with TT. I'm just...done.

And You Thought I Was Funny

2006-04-11T16:30:00.000-07:00

I know you have all been eagerly awaiting my Vegas update - and its a good one, I promise - but I just don't have it in me to post right now. My mother and I just had an enormous two hour long fight and I. Am. Exhausted.

The good news is we agreed to disagree.

The bad news is there is no winning a fight when you make your daughter actually cry with your yelling.

I'm going to bed.

I'm the Creative Director In This House

2006-04-07T09:12:00.000-07:00

She: "This is you and me, mommy."

Me: "Oooh. Is this my purse?"

She: "No, that's your lady bug and her cheese!"

Me: "Honey! I love this picture. That is the perfect carrot."

She: (throws picture and starts to cry) "It's a ballerina!"

*In my defense, she's added alot of detail since then.

Thursday Thirteen

2006-04-06T00:37:00.000-07:00

Thirteen Things You'll Never Hear Me Say

1. "I'm tired of cheese."

2. "Oh, no more drinks for me. One's enough."

3. "Well, all the laundry's done!"

4. "I can't ever miss an episode of "So NoTORIous".

5. "These jeans are too loose. Let me try the zero."

6. "I'm too busy to gossip."

7. "I'm over Tivo".

8. "It was still dark when I got up."

9. "Make mine decaf."

10. "I wish I could lose this tan."

11. "Yes, I actually do want to watch "Drake and Josh Go To Hollywood" again."

12. "Am I getting too muscular?"

13. "It sure would be nice to grow some more hair on my face."

____________________________________________________
**Remember, it's not nice to link and run. ;)

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well!I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

I Guess I Forgot This Part of My Vows

2006-04-05T19:25:00.000-07:00

Okay, Chris has weighed in and decided that "boy wonder" and "flesh" are not appropriate terms to use to describe another "boy" within our marriage.

So, I will add that I am just as excited about ~~drinking, dancing, misbehaving~~ with my husband in Vegas for THREE days as I am about what's-his-name-I-already-forgot. Actually, more. Chris has great hair.

Without getting into particulars (you know the drill about Vegas, yes?) I'll just say that every time Chris and I have been there we have had an amazing time. A. Mazing. We're almost scared to go again because the bar is set so high.

Also, last time we went I looked like this. I can assure you that I do not look like that anymore. Although, I do think I'll make Chris wear that shirt again. Hell, maybe I'll wear it.

The BK Lounge

2006-04-05T16:55:00.000-07:00

Take it from me, there is nothing more enjoyable than laying on the floor of your home office with your husband and a bottle of wine while listening to him and laughing your everloving asses off.

Did I mention that I am actually seeing this boy wonder in the flesh perform in Vegas in just over 72 hours? I didn't? Well, that's because I am so freaking excited I'm afraid to even speak of it for fear I will jink myself and the show will be cancelled.

Then I'll never be able to throw my panties onstage at Mr. Cook. Don't worry - Chris said I could. As long as they're big panties.

Curiosity Made the Cat Run Real Fast

2006-04-04T16:03:00.000-07:00

I really really don't want to post about my cat. Alas, I have no choice because this is funny stuff.

So, I have this fat orange cat. His name is Oliver, but that doesn't matter. Especially because you never need to call him since he is like a permanent slipper on your right foot wherever you go all day.

Oliver is an affection whore. He must be touched at all times. He shimmies along the walls as he walks, runs his cheeks across anything with a corner, and pulls himself along on his back on every surface throughout the house. Wherever you are, there he will be. Petting himself with your hand without you even noticing.

Well, the other day I was running on the treadmill. Which is next to my bed. Oliver was sitting on the edge of the bed, two feet from me, slowly reaching his paw out toward me over and over as I ran. I'm thinking, 'Of course he knows he can't come near me. He's an animal. They have an innate ability to sense danger? Right?'

His round orange eyes were boring into me, pleading for physical contact. As his reaching became more urgent, I started to consider that he just may get desperate.

Not a second later, the cat jumps. On. The. Treadmill. And. Runs. With. Me.

Never one to overreact, I start wildly yelling "No! No!" as he races behind me. I look over my shoulder and this cat is running like his tail's on fire. His eyes are wild and his face is registering something is terribly wrong with his current situation.

After about five full seconds of sprinting behind me, he realizes he's going to need to step up his game if he's going to make it out of this alive. His eight inch legs start to spin like a cartoon character and he actually manages to run faster than I'm running and shoots off the front of the machine.

Poor cat hid in the bathroom for three days.

I'm taking this as yet another sign that exercising is dangerous and it's much safer to sit and eat french bread. Also, that my cat is...."special".

Don't Let Me Eat Alone

2006-04-04T09:18:00.000-07:00

I started another blog. Just for recipes! I'm somewhat of a "Recipe Whisperer" to my friends, so I thought it only fair to share my secrets ~~copied directly from my cookbooks~~ with you.

Since most of my recipes require the talent of no more than that of your average ground squirrel, please do not expect a complex cooking experience. I am all about fast, easy, and delicious. Yes, like me. You're funny - I knew you were thinking it.

Anyway, I'll be posting a recipe a day. I try to do lowfat with lots of veggies and use meat sparingly. (And, yes, that is only to allow me to eat the crapass McDonalds "meat" when I so desire.)

Please email me any favorite recipes you have and I'll throw them up there. As long as they don't include Spam or Cheez Whiz. ...I don't want you stealing my thunder.

So, come into my kitchen and grab a recipe. And resist the urge to wipe down the counters and do my dishes.

I Don't Want To Master My Thighs Anymore

2006-04-03T15:28:00.000-07:00

Can anyone tell me how I can order this book on Amazon this morning ...

... and then get this for lunch? And just to have all my bases covered, I even made sure to get diet coke for my Nutrasweet consumption.

Anyone?

I sometimes miss the days when we thought healthy eating was this:

And exercise was this:

Ah, a simpler time. Don't you sometimes feel like all our health knowledge is a double-edged sword?

I don't think I like knowing exactly what it is I am doing to my body as I enjoy my hot tasty french fries.

It allows me to reason too much: 'Let's see, what do I want for dinner tonight? Do I want inflamed arteries or an overworked pancreas?' 'I feel like a snack. Hmm, should I open that bag of breast cancer potato chips or go for the colon polyp salami? Decisions decisions.'

Knowledge is power and responsibility...and bor-ing.

I Wish They All Could Be (Northern) California Girls

2006-04-01T19:05:00.000-08:00

Yay, I'm back in my posh surroundings! That being my blog, not my humble little four year old suburban house. Although I'm glad to be back to that too. I did miss me some laundry.

So, Northern Cali was lovely - all sunny and cultural and classy and stuff. I have to tell you something about So Cal that some of you may not agree with (Hi Kelly!) - the people of southern California are often, not always (Hi Kelly!) - tacky. I was born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area and people are just more classy there. They too have million dollar homes and Range Rovers, but their hair is natural, they shop in their yoga pants, and their wedding rings are simple platinum bands. I'm just saying is all....

Anyway, my mom and S and I headed out Wednesday morning. I knew I was in for a wild weekend when my mom's overnight bag had a "Daily Scriptures", a bible, and her crocheted shawl peeking out of the top. The drive up and back was interesting. My mom read me Bible texts on the way up while my daughter interrupted her with "My Humps" lyrics. (My mom: "Did she just say lady lumps?") Nice.

But, we had a great time at my aunt's.

Emily is young and beautiful and successful and a strong self made woman. She stands for everything women have fought for. She has it all - she's successful, beautiful and has granite counters. Four years ago she arranged her booming career so she could stay at home with her sons. I hope to be like her when I grow up. Especially the successful career. Or any career. Or maybe its just her house I want. Or the fact that she never has laundry with a family of four.

Anyway, my mom and I had a good time fondling Emily's furniture and wasting her time. Also, making homemade playdough with the kids (my mom) and introducing Emily to some new horrendously depressing cancer blogs (me).

Thursday night I had dinner with Renee. This consisted mostly of Renee standing in the aisle at Chili's and rocking Rocco in her arms. But, that was okay. I've drank through worse.

We talked about Blogher - Renee's going! - and discussed hotel arrangements. I have to say, I wish you were all going. Can you imagine how much fun we would have together? I am way less whiney than you think. And I drink way more wine that you think. Also, I'm likely to say or do something wildly inappropriate so you don't have to. And that's just f-u-n. So, go! Won't you already?

S. was thrilled that she got to play with "the big guy" and "the little guy" as she likes to call her 8 and 5 year old cousins. She thinks "chother" is its own word, so she kept saying "We like to play with our chother while you and Emily talk to your chother!". Get it? Instead of "each other"?

Let your ovaries commence to bursting.

And, for my part, I was pleased to show my aunt and uncle what happens to a 28 year old's body when she eats everything covered in cheese for three months. They were not impressed.

After I felt we had adequately chastised my aunt for weighing less than me (thanks for the walk around Burlingame looking for 'the bagel place' - we can all tell you don't eat no damn bagels!) we headed back home Friday.

On the way back my mom and I played 20 Questions, in which my mother totally cheated and chose both "the man who checked my disabled aunt into a nursing home" and "the girl who searched our purses at the Dr. Phil show" as her people I was supposed to guess. You see where I get my clever moves.

I look forward to my next visit. Maybe I can run into an ex-boyfriend or my old parole officer and actually have an interesting story for you next time.

I did miss all of you internets while I was off 'road tripping'. Especially your Thursday Thirteen comments saying "My TT's are up!" or as Chris likes to read it, "My titties are up!" (Please excuse his lecherous immaturity).

Next time I'll bring you back a t-shirt.

Does Anyone Know Where My O Magazine Is?

2006-03-29T00:05:00.000-08:00

You would not believe the activities I have completed today in preparation of my three day trip up to the SF Bay Area tomorrow.

Made a batch of spaghetti (since if I don't Chris will only eat things handed to him through his car window the entire time I'm gone)
Went grocery shopping
Did Accounts Receivable and Payable for my business
Did five loads of laundry
Wrote a letter to O Magazine advising them that if they don't stop sending me collection notices for my paid subscription and start sending me the damn magazine, they're going to have an ah-ha! moment of their own
Paid bills
Organized my desk (read: rearranged piles of papers)
Played Barbies with S (did you notice that Barbie's boobs have shrunk substantially?)
Threw the ball for the cats (okay, that one was for me)
Vacuumed
Went to Toys R Us with S in her tutu and bought toys for my nephews
Stopped by Vi's to tease her with my mocha and spread S's germs around
Had my eyebrows waxed (they grow not only together but up my forehead if I don't)
Packed
Quickly lurked around your blogs without commenting while waiting for water to boil

I can't wait to see all of my family and ~~drink heavily~~ have dinner with Renee. I'll be back Saturday! In the meantime, caress my archives.

Also, this will have to do for my Thursday Thirteen...

Kelly Is Her Name-o

2006-03-28T22:28:00.000-08:00

A huge ginormous thank you to Kelly from Nello Designs for my new digs! I absolutely love what she's done and am quite impressed. She was awesome to work with, even if you are a clueless soul without a creative bone in your body...like me.

Check her out. Hire her! Now! Go!

Put A Bow On Me

2006-03-27T16:26:00.000-08:00

Wow. MIM had to close comments on her weight post because people were actually starting to call her names. Personally I didn’t agree with everything MIM had to say, but to personally attack her for her opinion seems extreme.

The real question here, and Virenda brought this up in her comment on my last post, is:

Why are we so quick to judge each other? And so hatefully just because we can hide behind our computers?

So, MIM and obviously many others feel that you have a duty to stay attractive and sexy for your spouse. Well, good for them! They are entitled to their opinion. The end.

I think if I have to stay looking amazing every minute of my marriage to “keep my man” he isn’t worth keeping. But, that’s just me.

I think the notion that we as women are under some sort of obligation to keep our appearance at a certain level is insulting to men. Are our relationships that easily summed up that some weight or a short haircut devalues you as a loving wife? Are men that simple minded that when they’re not constantly turned on by you, they’ll start sniffing out the neighborhood for fresher meat?

I don’t know about you, but my husband is as into what I do as what I look like. ….And I do alot. (That was a joke for my ‘regulars’).

I think where MIM really stepped in it is when she referred to dating as “advertising”. As if we are pretty packages that need to keep up our wrapping paper.

Let me ask you, are all of your girlfriends attractive and thin? When you first met in, say college, were they size 4’s with long hair? Now, in their 30’s are they carrying an extra twenty or thirty pounds? Have they dared to get a “sensible haircut”? Do you love them any less? Do you feel duped that they aren’t the exact friend you made 10 or 15 years ago?

Do you feel it was false advertising? Or are they still the same person with the easy laugh and big heart that you met and loved all those years ago?

Why the double standard? Are women’s relationships with each other that much deeper and more meaningful?

Is it the inclusion of sex in the relationship/friendship that immediately holds rank over all the other aspects in the relationship?

Again, what an insult to the men who chose us. I think if we’re honest with ourselves, we all know that we could look better. And frankly, if your appearance rules your life, then you must be one very scared individual. Because appearance can go like that.

The real issue worth debating here is health.

You drop the word “health” in everywhere where MIM had “attractive” and “sexy” and I’m in total agreement. Heart disease is the #1 killer of women. I do have an obligation to my husband to be healthy every waking moment of my life. Because he signed on to grow old with me and I owe it to him to hang around. I do have an obligation to my child to be healthy because I want to see her grow up and have the energy to run around with my grandchildren.

Now, our health is something worth getting worked up about. Think of all the calories we’ll burn.

I Like Agreeable

2006-03-26T12:20:00.000-08:00

Am I a horrible person because I really like my daughter when she is sick?

Healthy, she is lovely, but a bit argumentative. And insistent. Also, impatient. And a whiner. I know, I know, she gets it all from her dad. Exactly what I was thinking.

But, when she's sick, even with just sniffles, she becomes quiet and soft and affectionate.

She tenderly inquires about breakfast rather than yelling up the stairs at me "Where's my pancakes?!". She requests kindly that I sit with her and watch a movie and even lets me use my laptop without interrupting me every five seconds to watch every damn scene in Monsters, Inc. She's good for only three games of Whack-A-Mole rather than 900. She pets my arm while I pet hers. When I ask if she wants a smoothie she replies "That's okay mommy" instead of "I hate smoothies".

And she doesn't follow me around with "Is it time to see my friends now? How about now? When the clock says one-one-three-zero? How about then?".

I realize this is because she doesn't feel well and I do want her to get better quickly of course. I do. Just minus the whining. I'll try to do the same.

Updated to add: I take it back! I want my insolent, petulant, beautiful, fiery daughter with attitude back! When fevers get over 102, I don't. like. it!
________________________________________________

P.S. - The "meme" S is holding in the picture is her comfort blankie. Kinda funny story: When she was about four months old, she started to have really bad colic. She would cry all the time. Chris would get up with her in the morning and I would run to the gym before he had to leave for work. One morning, I'm coming up the steps to our front door and I can already hear her wailing. When I get inside both she and Chris are inconsolable. He leaves for work and I spend an hour unsuccessfully trying to calm her down. Then I remembered reading somewhere that babies like a familiar scent with them when you put them down. So, desperate, I pull off my workout shirt and lay it with her in the crib. She immediately rolls her face into it and falls asleep. I haven't gotten it back since.

Conversations With Dog

2006-03-25T14:46:00.000-08:00

Actual conversations I've had with ex-boyfriends:

Me: "I don't want to be your Friday night girl!"
Him: "Better than my Monday night girl. She's pretty ugly."

-------------------

Him: "Can you please stop eating corndogs?"
Me (with a mouthful): "Why?"
Him: "You're never going to be able to run a marathon eating junk."
Me: "Who said anything about a marathon?"

-------------------

Me (to boyfriend of FOUR months): "Cool tat. What is it?"
Him: "The Nazi SS symbol."
Me: ???

-------------------

Me: "Your girlfriend just called me."
Him: "You're not going to mess up my truck, are you?"
Me: "Don't flatter yourself."

-------------------

Him: "So, were you really sick yesterday when you cancelled our date?"
Me: "Yeah."
Him: "Are you sure you didn't go out with someone else?"
Me: "Yes! Why?"
Him: "I was watching the Raider game on t.v. yesterday and guess who I saw in the crowd? With another guy?"
Me: "Oh. That."

-------------------

Me: "I get the feeling that you're married."
Him: "...Really?...Why?"
Me: "Well, you have a tan line on your finger for one. And you always look like you're about to cry."
Him (starts to cry): "I just need a reason to leave. Can you be my reason?"
Me: "Holy hell."

-------------------

Him: "Oh shit. There's a cop behind me with his lights on."
Me: "Well, pull over!"
Him: "I can't. I didn't hide my drugs or my gun."
Me: ???

------------------

Him: "Check out my new tattoo."
Me: "It's...my name...across your back."
Him: "Yeah. Well?"
Me: "I thought I broke up with you last week."

-------------------

Him: "Those other guys are idiots. I'll buy you a garden where your flowers can bloom."

And I married him.

Reality Still Bites

2006-03-25T11:22:00.000-08:00

TRY and tell me that this movie is not the best movie ever!

I can still watch it 10 years later and it rocks so hard. But, for different reasons now. I pick up on comments that I never got before, being a teenager. Now, I'm in awe of how they so perfectly captured that early twenty angst. I realize how much I took away from this movie and incorporated into my own personality for good - the sarcasm, the phrases, the definition of irony, my VIEW ON LIFE.

Just when I think Ethan Hawke is a has been and I have no interest in him, I see this movie and remember. Ah, yes. I remember. Brilliant tortured soul. Saying things like this,:

"Life is just a random lottery of meaningless tragedies and a series of near escapes."

And Janeane Garofolo! Her comic timing is perfection.

"I just realized I am now manager of The Gap. I'm responsible for alllll those t-shirts. French cut. V-neck. Ribbed. What have you. Duuude, I'm in trouble."

Is the scene of them dancing in the convenience store to "My Sharona" not priceless?

And Ben Stiller could not have captured "awkward yuppie hypocrite" better. Could not.

Winona - you can steal all the Barney shirts you want. You will always be queen in my book.

The dialogue is sheer brilliance. If you have not experienced this movie recently, watch it today. Remember what used to speak to you.

You. Me. Five bucks. Good conversation. That is what's it's still all about my friends.

Handling the Love... Handles

2006-03-24T11:55:00.000-08:00

There's a firestorm whipping around the blogosphere over the good ol' weight issue. You can read about it here, here and also here. Those are some angry bees.

I understand why. Let me jump on the bandwagon with my ~~agitated~~ respectful opinion.

There is a big difference between natural weight gain and gaining a massive amount of weight and becoming asexual.

When you first meet your husband, you are, say, in your 20's. You can eat entire pizzas and store them in your hollow leg, you can sleep on your side and yet not have a crease across your face until 2:00 the next day, you can exercise constantly because you have the time and the motivation and you see immediate results. Gravity is working in your favor - you have all options at your disposal. Your life is yours!

Then, someone comes along wine-ing and dining and you say "Yesss". And then bam! five years later you are wiping butts, considering the girls at The View your true friends, and eating cookies in the pantry and cold nuggets out of the sink.

It is the natural progession. It's not lack of self-worth or of interest in your mate. It's physics.

Along with these major lifestyle changes come some major physical changes. Let me outline them:

1) Once you are happy and in love you just aren't going out that much...and eating in alot.

2) Once you get pregnant, forget about it. Your body has a mind of its own...and its mind is to stretch, stretch, stretch.

3) Your body changes permanently after pregnancy. I did not even have hips before. And back fat? Wha...?

4) Taking care of a child is draining. Sometimes the only thing you do for yourself is eat. So, you're going to make it count.

When we get married we go from women with our own lives to Mothers. To Wives. To Daughters-in-law. To Social Coordinators. Often to Spiritual Heads. The weight of the family is on our shoulders. Everything from whether the house, the car, our children's hair is clean to whether our husband looks presentable to whether our weekends are packed with dinner dates to whether our kids are in soccer/dance/softball to whether our family eats healthy and exercises to how many friends our husband has, girlfriends we have and playmates our kids have depends upon our efforts. The entire social, mental, emotional, and physical framework of the family is reliant on our action.

So, what do we do to reward ourselves? How do we ‘take care”? For most of us that spin class isn’t going to cut it. I don't know about you, but exercise is yet another chore I must get done. It is not a reward. A venti mocha and muffin is a reward. A rum and coke is a reward. Chips and onion dip. Ben and Jerry’s. Those are comforting. Maybe not for you. But, I'm sure you have your comfort foods too.

Sometimes there are just not enough good reasons to prevent me from pulling into that McDonalds…and then going home and preparing a healthy dinner for my family. Does it mean I don’t love myself? I don’t think so. Does it mean I don’t love my husband? Uh, no. It means I want fried potatoes. That’s about it.

But, there's two sides to this coin my friends.We also have a responsibility to our families to stay healthy. Notice I didn't say "We have a responsibility to our husbands to stay hot". It's not about "false advertising" which just pisses me off. I know I don't look like I did when I got married, but neither does my husband. Neither of us are happy with the way we look now. He's doing something about it. I'm not. But, nowhere in our vows did it say that we had to be ‘consistently attractive’ til death do us part.

I want him to be attracted to me. I want to be attracted to myself! But, the best I can manage right now is to maintain my weight, even though I know I need to go to the gym and eat healthier and cut back on the alcohol. I don’t want to. And I'm not going to just to please my husband. I feel I am good enough now. When I decide to get rockin hot again, then I will. If I never feel motivated to then I guess those days are behind me. Simple as that.

I believe the unspoken deal is that Chris and I stay attracted to each other, not attractive. The reason I stay a reasonable weight is because I am not comfortable being any larger. My sexuality and attractiveness are too important TO ME. It is incidental that they are important to Chris too.

We’re constantly going to be changing in our lifetime together and we need to both feel that our mutual attraction is based on much more than our physical bodies. But, that doesn’t let us off the hook from at least making an effort to stay reasonably physically healthy.

But, let me tell you something. You can put forth the same effort at 33 that you did at 23 and you’re going to get completely different results.

The bottom line is this: If you hate yourself and your choices and are eating your pain, then that will shine through in your entire family's life. If you're overweight, but it truly doesn't bother you and you and your husband have open honest discussions about it and it truly doesn't bother him and you're healthy, then good. for. you.

This is a hot button for one reason: Mommies do not like you coming into their comfort zone (read: faceless blogging where looks are irrelevant and content rules) and start poking at their soft spot...literally. We all fight this demon, some more than others. I think if you're passionate about this subject, even if you passionately disagree with me, it’s because it’s touching a chord.

Thursday Thirteen

2006-03-23T08:17:00.000-08:00

Thirteen Stages of Me

1. I was born to two hippies in 1977.

2. No, really. Hippies.

3. We lived in a 100 year old house with no foundation. And all was well. Really well for dad, if you know what I mean.

4. I was loved mostly. Don't be scared by my dad's Jesus hair.

5. I had a bit of an attitude.

6. Then there was the complete inability to do the hair...along with the striking similarity to a 35 year old man: my father.

7. I don't know how to prepare you for this one; I'll just have to do it quick like a bandaid. Here's my "awkward stage". Uh, yeah. Lots of attention from boys here.

So, imagine my delight when I started looking like this. And this. And then this.

8. Alot of drinking ensued. No, ALOT - love my yellow hair. Followed by good hair (I'm in the middle - and those are some high pants). And then really good hair.

9. Then I met him. And I liked it.

10. And he lured me with lots of shiny things.

11. Then we did this.

12. Then I my body went from this.....to this.

13. But, then I had this. Which turned into this. And then this. And this. Also this. Which makes us this.

*Thanks to Kelly for the inspiration.

____________________________________________________

Links to other Thursday Thirteen Participants:

1. Vi

2. Renee

3. Amanda

4. Snickerdoodles

5. Ask Daddy - Mommy Is Off Duty

6. The Sassy Lime

7. Gone To Plaid

8. Diary of the Nello

9. Heather Duncan's Random Thoughts

10. Fun in the Twin Cities

11. Owl Haven

12. Nothing Heavy

13. Random Thoughts Plotted Out Daily

14. Dorannes

15. Ramblings of a Working Wife and Mom

16. The Chaotic Home

17. The Purple Giraffe

18. Tales From Creekistan

19. Novelist In Training

20. Fickle Chick

21. Reverberate

22. Mama Kelly's Musings

23. Clay In the Potter's Hands

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well!I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

I'm So Vain, I Bet I Think This Blog Is About Me

2006-03-22T18:35:00.000-08:00

Ahh, you're all such good sports. I have to laugh at the recent tone of my blog: I complain, I whine, I cry. Then you come soothe me, encourage me, hold me. You're enablers - the whole lot of you!

Thanks.

I would like you to know however, that when I bitch I truly am not looking for ego stroking. I'm just venting.

So, for those of you out there that are one post away from leaving the following comment: 'Stop whoring for compliments! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!' I want to say I don't blame you.

I also want to assure you that on a cognitive level, I do think I'm a lovely person. It's just that I don't always feel the need to share those moments of clarity with you. It makes for boring blog, you know? Plus, for some reason, I only feel the need to write when I want to bitch and vent.

Lucky you.

Wordless Wednesday -- But We All Know That Won't Last

2006-03-22T01:26:00.000-08:00

Links to other participants:

1. Reflections Of a Not So Ordinary Mom 2. Reverberate - My Echo 3. Confessions Of a Busy Mom 4. Insanity Prevails 5. In a Big Way 6. Maremagnum

Don't Waste the Pretty On Me

2006-03-21T00:02:00.000-08:00

I think this is a new low for me.

Saturday we were at a little princess party around the corner. It was thrown by an acquaintance of mine who does not have kids, so she had invited alot of other moms that I didn't know. Well, one of those moms was her sister-in-law and she looked sort of like this.

Uh-huh.

And her name was like Gia or Eva. And she spoke with an accent.

Well, Gia-Eva decided that she wanted me. Hard core. She was eyeing me across the room. She was laughing at my jokes. Every time I caught her eye, she was all grins. She eventually made her way over to me and started a conversation. This woman was striking. Olive skin, blue eyes, dark curly hair, tall, thin, big smile.

She was also flashing a cheesy red thong, but I digress. This beautiful creature zeroed in on me and was now trying to strike up a friendship. She pulled out all the tricks: she complimented my daughter, she asked where I got my shoes, she admired my bag. Girl was working it.

Normally, this would be a non-issue. I can hold my own and have even been known to (gasp!) consider myself attractive.

But, anyone who has read my blog for five minutes knows about my current neuroses. I'm not thrilled with my appearance. The fact that I weigh more now than I did two months after my daughter was born (Where are those breastfeeding kids when you need em?) displeases me greatly. I haven't been to the gym regularly this year, I've been eating crap (McDonalds bakes syrup right into the pancakes! I wish I never knew this!), and frankly things are taking a turn for the worse in all areas physical. And have I mentioned the new wrinkles? Let's not. I'll save that for Self-Hatred Tuesday.

So, the thought of having Miss America around gave me a huge internal sigh. It's hard enough to be comfortable with myself with the beautiful friends I have now. I just don't think my ego could take another one in the mix.

Gia-Eva was getting the 'ol brush off.

I was polite, but every time I looked at her I wanted to laugh maniacally and then cry. I wanted to just interrupt her as she hinted at what her free weekdays were and say "You know what. You're nice and all. Any girl would be lucky to have you. But, I'm just not ready for this. It's not you.... It's me. ".

This can't be normal behavior, can it?

Do I Bore You Too?

2006-03-19T21:45:00.000-08:00

Are you ever interrupted while telling your husband a story?

Once the outside distraction passes, do you ever not pick up where you left off in your story on purpose just to see if he was listening?

Does he ever then bring up a whole new subject without even noticing that you have not finished your story? That you were not even close to finishing? That you were actually interrupted by the waitress mid-sentence?

Do you ever not bother to tell him, thinking at any minute he'll remember and say 'I'm sorry honey. You were saying?'?

Do you ever sit there and grow more irritated by the fact that he never notices?

Do you then wonder if he ever really listens to you?

Does he then wonder why you're suddenly bitchy for the rest of Sunday brunch?

Yeah. Me neither.

My Noggin Hurts

2006-03-17T09:25:00.000-08:00

Wherever you are in the world you can look at the clock at 9:30 am PST and you can think of me because you will know exactly what it is I am doing. I am fielding the following question: "What are we doing for kids today?"

Am I wrong or is this the question that makes you bury your head in the laundry you're folding and scream? Or in my case, duck behind your laptop screen with your mocha.

S. is in preschool two half days a week - just enough time for me to grocery shop...or lay on the floor eating cookies. But, that leaves me the other 90 hours a week to fill.

We do the library, the bookstore, the park.

I've purchased books of activities. I've arranged playdates with people whose inane conversation made me want to claw my eyes out. I've even driven my happy ass down to San Diego to visit the science museum and get chased by homeless people in the park. But, whatever activities I have planned, whatever fun S. has enjoyed, does not change the fact that the next day needs to be filled as well.

And she's totally picked up on the fact that the grocery store is not "the sticker place" just because after an hour of shopping with mom they give her a string of flourescent orange "Meals in Minutes" stickers.

Don't get the wrong idea - I'm not at her beck and call. I'm way too lazy to produce an overindulged child. What I am is a mother who lets her child watch way too much Noggin and Nick Jr. by default. I know the shows are educational, but what bothers me is not the content, its the fact that she's sitting there like a glazed donut.

The short answer is to quick! reproduce! and give the child a sibling. Well, I'm working on it.

Until then, any suggestions of how you fill your little hobbit's day would be much appreciated.

Thursday Thirteen

2006-03-16T00:13:00.000-08:00

13 Reasons Other Moms Intimidate Me

1. You understand that $400 worth of scrapbooking supplies are meant to be used.

2. When your child grew their first teeth, you knew date, location, and order. Instead of looking at your daughter one day and saying “Hmm, I think you can eat an apple now”.

3. You didn’t spend the entire first year of your child’s life crying and apologizing in your pajamas.

4. You don’t show up a half hour late to playgroups panting, sweating and swearing.

5. You never bring Krispy Kreme donut holes to your daughter’s class only to have the teacher kindly request you “consider a fruit” next time.

6. You can’t make a sandwich with the ingredients under your carseat.

7. You don’t repeatedly piss off your daughter by referring to the cats as her “brothers”.

8. You manage to put on both a belt and shoes for the preschool Open House.

9. You don’t yell at your daughter to stop curling her toes while you try to force a size 10 shoe on her… only to later find out she is now in fact a size 12. Wide.

10. Your daughter’s bows match both her outfit and each other.

11. You don’t start laughing while reprimanding your child.

12. When you start counting as a warning to your child, they don’t start counting with you.

13. You manage to get haircuts that don’t cause you to lock yourself in the bathroom until your husband coaxes you out with cookies.

______________________________

Links to other Thursday Thirteens
1.The Green Straw

2.Selfish Behind the Scenes

3. Illusive Life

4. The Shizzle

5. Walk n' Talk

6. The Chaotic Home

7. The Purple Giraffe

8. Reverberate

9. Integrated Ambiguity

10. Diary of the Nello

11. Fickle Chick

12. Snickerdoodles

13. Ramblings of a Working Wife and Mom

14. Heather Duncan's Random Thoughts

15. Ask Daddy, Mommy Is Off Duty

16. Novelist In Training

17. My Life In the Kid Zoo

18. Crib Ceiling

19. Sam's Spot

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well!I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

This Girl Walks Into a Bar

2006-03-15T09:37:00.000-08:00

Just to drive home the point that my day is incredibly nuanced and unpredictable, here is the conversation Chris and I had this morning:

Chris, eating an oatmeal bar at his computer: "Mmm. These taste great. Did you do something different?"

Me, grinning: "Really? See, that's so funny because I always just add the same base ingredients and mix up the fruits and then this time I thought 'Hey, why not add cinnamon?'. So you really like them?"

Chris, moving on to adult work: "Mm-hmm".

Me, satisfied, staring at his back: "Maybe tomorrow I'll try coconut."

Did you pick up on the part where I got excited? And then was satisfied? Did you?? Ahhh, the bliss. I think I'm slowly being pickled.

Monthly Letter

2006-03-14T22:19:00.000-08:00

Dear Blue,

You are four years five months old today and this is the first of many monthly letters to you. I've been wanting to take this letter writing thing on because:

1) you say alot of very clever things that I am not clever enough to remember to write down

2) you are constantly challenging me and your dad every single day and I must capture your negotiating skills on paper

3) I want you to have proof that you turned my world upside down...so you'll understand why I am so clingy

4) I need you to know I love you more than "to Yew Nork to California" as you've been saying recently.

Yesterday you went to dance class. I made the wise decision to put you in the late class this year because you and I are not morning people. If we're forced to get up too early we end up making each other cry before we even get out the front door.

You love to put on your leotard and back up to me in the bathroom, holding rubberbands in your little hand, full of demands of how you want your hair.

You love to walk the cobblestone wall after every class while enjoying the sucker the teacher gave you. Your whole face is lit up after you dance. Your pink cheeks flushed, you are downright jolly and ready for the day.

Grandma Cathy showed up after your class to surprise you. It was a last minute visit, so I didn't tell you. We couldn't wait to see your reaction. You started to run for the cobblestone as always and as you reached the wall, you saw her standing there and did a double take. You immediately turned around and looked at me, as if to say 'Is this happening?". Grandma reached out to hug you but you continued to jump up on the wall as planned! Grandma was hurt, but you needed to finish what you started. That wall wasn't going to walk itself!

After the wall walking was complete, you threw your arms around her. I found it funny that I had predicted you would react to her sudden appearance the way you did - delayed joy because you weren't prepared.

Dad took you to see Curious George and then bought you the stuffed animal after. You have been so taken with George that you had to immediately undress him (a sure sign that he's loved) and take him with you for your nap.

You are obsessed with games. EVERYTHING is a game these days. You constantly ask "Do you think I can run this fast/pick this up/throw this far/read this word?" We're not allowed to show faith in you. You get upset if we say we think you can. You want to prove us wrong.

The other day you begged me to play a video game with you. I put it off until it was almost bedtime. When dad went to unhook the Tivo to set up the game, I realized that it was going to stop recording my favorite show. I stared at you. You stared at me. I told dad to go ahead and pull the plug on Tivo.

"You can see it later" you said hopefully.

"No, it's only on tonight" I responded.

You started to cry. "I'm sorry mommy" you said.

I was shocked at your empathy. You actually felt guilty. I, of course, told you it was no big deal and I would rather play with you.

But, as I lay in bed that night I thought of how your reaction is yet another indication that you're growing up. Into such a loving little girl.

I love you,

Mom

Blog Love Means Never Having To Say "Shut Up Already"

2006-03-14T00:04:00.000-08:00

Pop the corks, open the ice cream, do a jig! I have completed Smack My Tax Up '05! All documents are bundled and off to the accountant's, tear stains and all. This feels deceptively celebratory, even though I know I will still be spinning my accountant on my shoulders and tossing him out the window when he calculates the final amount owed. See this? This is me not caring.

I have also organized my office, helped S. with a month's worth of homework, cleaned out my vacuum filter (Did anyone else know you're supposed to do this? That little Swedish man is deceptive), and baked oatmeal bars.

Did I also mention that I managed to spend the entire day with my mother and not look at my Devil's-work-blog once?

I am feeling competent. Do you have any socks that need mending? Scrapbooks that need finishing? Any countries you need united? I'm totally up to the task.

Also, can I just say that I have THE BEST commenters EVER? Always making me laugh and making me think. Not only do you guys know just what to say, but you get that my whining is temporary.

Now. Can you talk to my husband?

I See Little People

2006-03-13T00:33:00.000-08:00

We enjoy the kids. We really do, right? The chubby cheeks, the little arms around your neck, the rambling pointless stories. And when they can't pronounce their "r's", well, that's just pig in a poke cute.

But, what is it about the Little People that they possess this uncanny ability to always know when you have just:

sat down on the toilet
called a friend long distance
put shampoo in your hair
dared to sit and eat
stepped into the bath
started to...you know... in the bedroom (or anywhere else)
pressed play on your favorite Tivo'd show
gone to the liquor store without saying goodbye

Whether they're sleeping, playing happily with their toys, or harrassing the dog, they can sense the moment you are actually relaxing. And that is just not allowed! Didn't you get the memo?

Take today for example. My daughter is watching Drake and Josh (don't even email me that she's too young for this show; she has a wicked crush on Drake and it may mean my life if I intervene; the heart wants what it wants people) and since she is normally entranced with Drake for thirty minutes straight I sneak downstairs to use the restroom.

Almost immediately she is downstairs jiggling the bathroom doorknob which is about six inches from my face.

"Just a minute!" I say through gritted teeth.

"Oh, no. I'm not trying to come in mommy. I'm just gonna play with the doorknob."

Well. There you have it.

Kelly Kelly Kelly Kelly - Did Anyone Else Watch "Cheers"?

2006-03-12T23:06:00.000-08:00

Kelly the Nello is deeelightful y'all. Just as you would guess, she is warm, witty, beautiful, funny, and chatty. And her glass eye is totally not noticeable. Or her wooden leg.

She met myself and Vi at The Cheesecake Factory for lunch. It was pouring rain, so I should add that my hair sucked. Just so you can visualize. As soon as she arrived, Vi and I accosted her with conversation. Kelly can hold her own though as you can imagine.

It was so cool to actually chat with someone you love reading about. The best part is you aren't restricted to just what their post is about. We talked about our husbands, our kids, our blog traffic, our religious beliefs, our asses, our boobs, our families, our hometowns, breastfeeding, mommy clubs. Seriously. We ended spending about three hours together and one of those was in the parking garage because we didn't want to say goodbye. Commence to saying "ahhh, special".

The one thing I cannot to this moment understand is why we did not take a picture! Now I have no proof. I swear we met. Really! I think I may still have one of her hairs on my coat?

P.S. - I'm getting a strong "WTH? vibe from my title so let me fill you in: On "Cheers" Woody (Harrelson) the bartender was sort of dumb and he had this perfect blonde girlfriend named Kelly, whom he made a song for in one episode and every single word of the entire song was "Kelly". He played it at the piano for her and she loved it. You should Netflix the whole series really. Go now!

I Cried In a Preschool Teacher's Arms Today

2006-03-10T00:44:00.000-08:00

Today at noon I am standing in my daughter's classroom crying while her teacher holds me.

Let's work backwards.

The taxes really aren't that big of a deal. I've been doing them for years. It's just that we normally get a nice big refund, so I perform my tax duties with a jaunty spirit. But, as you know, this year Uncle Sam is going to drive a fork through my hand instead, so I have understandably been putting this whole thing off. Not to mention, Chris and I are pretty fancy with multiple deductions and employment statuses between us.

Anyhoo, this morning I attempt to retrieve last year's taxes from the computer to get the bajillion categories we use every year so I can finish this mess off. But, wait! Chris got a new computer because the old one crashed three months ago! Watch me fling myself around the office wailing.

So, Chris, in his neverending effort to assuage me, races down to the garage to dig up all the old documentation, hoping it will help. Even though this does aid me slightly in this godforsaken project, I begin to rant about us not "being on the same page" financially and him not "holding up his end of the bargain" by helping me with tax time.

After poking Chris with a stick for a half hour, he finally snaps back. Whiiiich in turn makes me start to cry.

As you are so unfortunately aware, I've been feeling guilty lately about not working towards my goals and slacking on my responsibilities. So, now to lash out at Chris because of the stress of this tax crap just made me feel like I was really failing on all fronts.

So, imagine my delight when a half hour later S's teacher is telling me that she is "very concerned about S's homework" or lack thereof. She points me to a chart with every child's name on it. Every single name has about 10 gold stars next to it, indicating completed homework. My daughter's name has nothing next to it. Nada.

Zip.

As I mumble an excuse about losing those little 2x2 scraps of paper called "homework" she begins to explain why it is so important that S. begin doing homework in a timely manner. You know, to make her more successful in life. And a better person.

Uh-huh. Uh-huh. I listen and nod. The recent tears are back with a vengeance. I try to look down at S. and help her with her coat, but it quickly becomes obvious to Mrs. Teacher that I am actually crying over this.

Then she does the worst thing possible. She starts to speak soothingly and hugs me. Which of course makes me stiffen like a cadaver.

Horribly. Awkward. Moment. Of. The. Year.

I swear I am not normally this emotional.

I'm actually much worse.

Thursday Thirteen

2006-03-09T00:20:00.000-08:00

13 Ways I Know I Have Writer's Block

1. I actually throw up a little when I look at the cursor.

2. I keep preparing snacks.

3. I force the cat to wrestle with me.

4. I yell at Chris to keep it down as I hear his keyboard tapping away.

5. I actually start doing laundry.

6. I peruse other funnier blogs and mentally try to sap their energy. (You’re not doing that now are you?)

7. When the phone rings, I leap up and answer it “Yes I will!”

8. I desperately search my surroundings for blog worthy content. ‘Hmm, how can I make my bookshelf funny? Are those pillows holding a story? Would anyone find this amount of dust interesting?’

9. I call my four year old in and ask her to say something cute. To which she responds ‘You don’t pay me enough’.

10. I have a sudden urge to clean the oven. And under the fridge. When did we have ham? And then bake oatmeal bars while I’m there.

11. I call my mom and start an argument…just to have something to write about.

12. I run an anti-virus scan. Three times.

13. I end up at this website. WTF?

______________________________
Links to other Thursday Thirteens

1.The Green Straw
2.Selfish Behind the Scenes

3. Domesticated Bloggage

4. Reflections Of a Not So Ordinary Mom

5. Sweet Domesticity

6. Too Many Kids

7. Is Your Room Clean

8. All About Fun and Life

9. Ramblings of a Working Mom and Wife

10. The Moonjockey Lounge

11. Snickerdoodles

12. Frog Legs

13. The Purple Giraffe

14. Future Lines

15. Adventures In Juggling

16. The Chaotic Home

17. Rocket Robyn

18. Enigmatic Life

19. Fefyfomanna

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Come Here Let's Hug

2006-03-08T23:33:00.000-08:00

You are all just a virtual fuzzy robe and slippers. I slipped into, and lounged around in, your comments all day today. I am happy to report that after all the love (and six snack bags of Doritos) I am feeling better.

Also, I have registered for Summer classes! Yay for me. I am on my way. Now, I should warn you that when I'm a student, I'm a bit...how did Chris put it?...unbelievably intolerable I think. I am a stellar student, but sort of in the way that Hitler was a great leader. I'm a bit fascist in my commitment to obtaining an A.

So, consider yourself warned. You're the ones that pushed the issue. :)

Move Along Folks - There's Nothing To See Here

2006-03-08T01:18:00.000-08:00

Is it weird that I stayed up late to watch my cat eat the newly sprouted wheat grass? That I sat in my office in my bathrobe grinning like an idiot as he gnawed on the edges?

Someone.
Needs.
Help.

One of, oh, about 45 things, needs to happen quickly. Not the least of which is my need to register for classes this semester. I cannot put this off anymore. I still have two years of school left and at this point it is virtually impossible for me to get my degree before I turn 30.

Once I’m over 30, I become the mom of the class; the non-threatening “older” woman that all of my classmates are rooting for, “really hoping she sticks it out this time”. I remember being baffled by these women in my first year of college at 19. I would see them with their scrupulous notes and highlighters. Their graying hair and extra thirty pounds. And I would think “What have you been doing all this time?”. Well, now I know.

I want to have a well laid plan when S. starts school. I don’t want to be the mom that slowly folds laundry in front of the television waiting for school to let out. I want to transition right into my career.

Which brings me to the next subject: these blood sucking gift baskets.

You people have no idea how many robes I have folded just so, how many perfect bows I have tied (hold straight up and down, loop bottom ribbon first, then bring top ribbon around - Wheeee! And again!), how many hours I have spent in my garage shrink wrapping. About a fourty hundred thousand, as S. would say.

Burned out does not even begin to describe how I felt when we lost our biggest client almost two years ago. At the time, I was going to school full time, I was running my business full time, I was working out with a trainer at 5:30 a.m. three mornings a week, I had my 2 year old with me 24/7, my husband was working 12 hour days, and yet I made it all work. Everything was scheduled to the minute. Then several of the balls I was juggling fell out, leaving me with just a ball or two and no real demand as to how I kept them going. “A body in motion tends to stay in motion and a body at rest tends to…blah blah blah” and all that.

So here we are some time later. Chris works from home, S. is in preschool, I am not presently in school, I am certainly not training unless crying jags are considered a workout, and I am down to one client. My husband works his ass off taking all the clients he can while I sit here stroking my laptop and arranging my closet. The man has worked this hard for 25 years – he deserves to enjoy his life! And what am I doing to help?

I try to be happy as a SAHM (even if that acronym makes me feel like its my CB radio handle) and I tell myself these years are precious and its only temporary. Believe me, every helpful thing you’re thinking right now, I tell myself. And yet I can’t help feeling like if I’m not on the floor doing workbooks and playing dolls all day with my daughter, then why don’t I take my selfish ass into the office and start cold calling and help my husband out?

We have a massive (I mean massive) tax bill due in about 30 days and it all falls on Chris’ shoulders. I know he would like to think that it’s a fair exchange because, you know, I am a Stay! Put! At! Home! Mom! but we both know that he does as much work with the child as I do. So, where is my value add, as we used to say in the biz?

Do you want to buy a basket?

We Have Issues

2006-03-06T18:30:00.000-08:00

While we're on the subject I just fell off my bed trying to pull on my sock. I can't make this stuff up! If I go missing, you can bet I accidentally ran myself over.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
And now, some highlights of my trizip:

(S. is not diggin the snow.)

(She prefers her audience of ducks.)

Okay, so you have to picture this for it to be funny. Trust me - I know about these things.

So, I made a nice big dinner one evening while we were on vacation and Chris - he is well trained - was doing the dishes.

Well, the water is running loudly and he is facing the sink, away from the kitchen door. My mom walks by behind him and says "Thank you for doing the dishes Chris". Without looking at her, he says "Oh, no problem."

I know that he has no idea that I just walked into the kitchen so the second after my mom says that behind him, I soundlessly pass by and pinch his butt. A subtle little pinch. The logical thought, of course, is that its my mom. He spins around and the look on his face, dear reader, was PRICELESS. Horrified doesn't even begin to cover it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My mom is a bit of what my aunt calls a "premature panicker". As in "Ohmygod!Ilockedthekeysinthecar!ohmygod!....oh, never mind, here they are" or "Iforgottopaythatbill!They'regoingtotakethehouse!Whatrewegoingtodo?!...Oh, wait. Here's the receipt. Whew.".

So, when it began to snow Saturday and we were somewhat low on firewood, cash, and water, my mother started frothing at the mouth in worry. Picture this: Brian, my stepfather (gentlest, quietest soul), Chris (silent strong type), my panicky mother, and my feisty self are all standing in the living room deciding what we are going to do.

The dilemma is that even though the electricity keeps going out and we know we are going to need more firewood soon, we can't agree whether we should go to the store immediately before the weather gets worse or wait it out.

Chris: "It's just a little slush. We'll be fine in our car. Let's go."

Lena: "Are you crazy?! Absolutely not! I will not allow you to leave this house without chains on the tires! Can't we just wait?"

Mom: "Chris, you're being foolish. Be realistic. It's a blizzard out there! You have to use chains! And we cannot wait! We must go now! It's only going to get worse!"

My mom's panic becomes contagious and I'm starting to be truly concerned for our safety.

The more concerned my mother and I become, the more amused Chris and Brian are with us. Before you know it, my mom is pulling on her coat and claiming she is walking to the store (about a mile away). I run for my coat as well.

Then I remind my mom that we're going to need to walk back with firewood. We both stand at the front door staring at each other.

So, without a word, Brian just calmly grabs his keys and gets in the car. My mom and I chase after him and jump in. We drive to the store.... without incident.

Inside the store my mother is stocking up for a winter of hibernation. Keep in mind we have ONE day left. She has about 50 pounds of wood, 3 liters of alcohol, a large bag of coffee, and 20 tons of bottled waters. I grab the essentials: skittles and an US magazine.

When I scoff at my mom's large purchases at checkout, she and I start arguing. And she actually says this: "What if we get snowed in?!".

There is about an inch of snow on the ground. The sun is out. And the cashier is wearing SHORTS. He is also losing his patience with us.

At this point, the woman standing behind us can't take it anymore and, in her cute vest and jeans, leans forward with her pack of gum and says "Excuse me. I'm just trying to pick my son up from school. Are you guys...ready?".

My mom, bundled up in her puffy pink ski jacket and snow boots is now flustered and I am quickly realizing that we are overreacting just a bit. The locals are just trying to go about their day while we shout and panic over getting "snowed in".

To make things more amusing, the next day was sunny and all the snow had melted. To which my mom responded "You're not going to blog about this, are you?"

Lake Arrowhead: 1

Girls: 0

(You can't tell, but Chris has a pantsfull of snow.)

(Me and S. after bobsledding.)

(Mom is gearing up to go about 1 mile an hour.)

(Let's pretend we're admiring the birds outside rather than playing Nintendo.)

(My parents. Eww! Get a room!)

Hide and....Hide Some More

2006-03-06T17:00:00.000-08:00

On the second night in the vacation house, we decide to play Hide & Seek. You're all familiar with how this game works, yes? The hiders hide and the seekers, uh, seek. Well, then how does a man live 40 years and not know how to play this childhood classic?

As we assemble at "base" to decide who will count, Chris, standing alone in the living room, asks "Wait. How do you play?".

We all stop talking and look at him like he grew wings.

"You're kidding right?" I say, "You don't know how to play Hide & Seek?".

I am concerned. What else has he been shamefully hiding? That he doesn't know know how to tie his shoes? Tell time? Burn ants with a magnifying glass?

"What happens when someone finds you?" he says.

"The goal is to quietly run to base while they're looking" I respond delicately.

So, we play one round and sadly Chris is caught by my stealthy skills.

Then it is his turn. I find the most fantastical hiding place: balled up under a blanket on the couch - who would ever guess? Well, I hear Chris finish counting and I wait. And I wait.

And I wait.

Finally, as I am slowly being poisoned by my own carbon monoxide, I throw the blanket back and jump off the couch. And where do you think Chris our masterful seeker is? Standing. At. Base. Having never moved.

"What are you doing?" I demand.

"I'm staying here so I'll be sure to catch everybody."

Don't you want to just hold him?

Why Yes I Do Have 26 Potatoes

2006-03-06T16:33:00.000-08:00

My mom and I felt this was an appropriate amount of food to bring for FOUR days.

Yeah. We're obsessed with choices.

Lake Arrow (In My) Head

2006-03-03T13:36:00.000-08:00

It really shouldn't surprise you that I've been here for not even 48 hours and I've already injured myself. We've discussed my inability to move my arms and legs at proper intervals, yes?

Well, last night I was coming down the stairs and about 6 steps from the bottom my sock slides on the carpeted stair and I literally fly in the air. IN THE AIR. And land on my tailbone. Yeah. Ouch.

So, Chris was facing away from me and all he saw was my body go flying in his peripheral vision. He leaps over the couch racing towards me thinking I fell over the balcony from the second landing. Could you imagine?!

Of course I try to muster a cry of some sort because my whole family has rushed over - except S. who is eyeing me bemused from the recliner as if to say 'Don't get your panties in a bunch. She does this all the time'.

When it was ascertained that I would live and no, I didn't lean too far over the railing because I thought I saw a butterfly, and yes I tripped on nothing, everyone went back to their books. I, on the other hand, have a huge hematoma on my ass. Let's say it was a skiing accident, shall we?

In other news, this is what my mom said the second I picked up my laptop the first morning here: "You're not going to be on that thing all day, right?". See me crumple on the floor, all my hopes dashed.

Instead imagine my delight when my mom wanted to chat about the Bible book of Esther. She's a better woman than I. I mean it was 8:00 in the morning. So, we chatted about that over coffee and then I steered the conversation to something I could follow more readily. Like did she really think I looked thin? No, really, did she or was she just saying that?

Then we took a walk around the little town village and let S. throw bread at to the ducks.

It's snowing hard up here in the Arrowhead, the winds are wailing against the glass, and my DSL connection is spotty. Just typing this is arduous since the letters appear about a fortnight after I type them.

But I do have another funny story I must share tomorrow. If I can sneak away under the guise of icing my ass.

Thursday Thirteen

2006-03-02T00:35:00.000-08:00

13 Ways You Know You're a Mom...I'd Get Along With

1. Your butt is a square.

2. When your child tells you a little girl at school told them they were gross, you seriously consider bitch slapping a four year old.

3. You applaud bowel movements (not your own...well, maybe your own, who knows).

4. You can absolutely hate your day and love it at the same time.

5. You buy a jogging stroller and stare at it in the garage until your child is actually old enough to run beside you.

6. You arrive at my house for a playdate and bring a martini shaker.

7. You gossip about other women but end the sentence with "...but I really do like her".

8. When you say you want to grab a coffee casually you DO NOT show up in a skirt from Nordstrom while I slob in jeans.

9. You help me devise ways to occasionally ditch our adored families.

10. You never, and I mean never, wear a scrunchie in your hair outside the house.

11. You ditch your "laundry day" to take me to the park, uh, I mean our kids to the park.

12. You point out the "choo-choo train" to your husband even without the kids.

13. You mostly love your husband and adore your kids.

______________________________

Links to other Thursday Thirteens

1.Future Lines

2.The Purple Giraffe

3.Domesticated Bloggage

4.Reverberate

5.Ask Daddy - Mommy Is Off Duty

6.The Green Straw

7.Dorannes

8.All About Fun and Life

9.Ramblings of a Working Wife and Mom

10.Pola-Maul-Youns

11.Lucy's Dilemma

12. Sweet Domesticity

13.Selfish Behind the Scenes

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

For the Life of Me I Cannot Name This Post

2006-03-01T13:58:00.000-08:00

I'm a busy beaver.

Not only did I manage to get highlights yesterday (Yay for me and my newly brightened face! I'm like a Lite Brite. I will post photographical evidence later) - but, I am also presently doing laundry, eating a banana, having a coffee, packing for our vacation, and rubbing my tummy whilst patting my head.

We're off to Lake Arrowhead for 5 days with my parents. I will try my hardest to post every day, but with my mother around I don't know how well that will go. Just know that if I post about kittens and rainbows and its free of "shits" and "damns" that mom was looking over my shoulder.

I'll be sure to have my TT up tomorrow and if I don't get to comment on each and every one of yours, promise you'll still be here to tickle me with sweet comments when I return.

The Perfect Post Award

2006-03-01T10:35:00.000-08:00

Lucinda and MommaK have masterminded this very clever idea called the "Perfect Post Award". On the first of every month you choose your favorite post of the prior month. The blog of your choosing then receives a perfect post button for their enjoyment.

I read so many awesome posts every day and it is very hard to pick just one. So, for February I have chosen:

Virenda at the Green Straw - "Sometimes In Life You Just Want To..."

Vi mostly writes gossip on her site, but occasionally she throws in a little of herself. These are my favorite posts because I know her personally and she is an incredibly intelligent and beautiful person, inside and out.

This post in particular touched me because it was so raw, so honest. As moms we are so hard on ourselves and the last thing we want to do is expose our fears or insecurities about our mothering. I admire Vi's courage in sharing the raw emotion of this experience with her readers. I also admire her complete love for her little girls.

Also, the girl can drink! Coffee ;)

"Daytime T.V." or "Why I Spend Alot of Time In My Closet"

2006-02-28T00:15:00.000-08:00

Is there anything more depressing than daytime television? I have it on in the background while I type and in the last hour there have been the following commercials:

How to plan your own funeral (ooh! I want ponies and jugglers!)
Some sort of "active adult" health medical insurance called "Active 35" (wha...? Is 35 the new 65?)
A "cash now" commercial declaring that they want to give me money NOW just "based on trusting" me. (I know someone who did this. The interest rate is 88%. Yeah. They're helpful.)
Wilford Brimley asking me what I think of when he says "diabetes testing supplies". Uh, I think of Quaker Oats actually.
A kind hearted attorney condescendingly assuring me that he "can get ME money for my injuries".
A large woman wheeling around on her Hoveround with flowers in her basket surrounded by laughing friends. She says to the camera, "My life has meaning again." Actually... I kinda like this one. That basket could fit my laptop perfectly.

The only bright spots are the frequent previews for Failure To Launch.

From this I feel its safe to deduce that the marketers feel if you're home during the day you're either sick, dying, or a sucker.

No wonder I started blogging....I'm on borrowed time.

Come For the Games, Stay For the Cookies

2006-02-27T00:10:00.000-08:00

I stole this from Kelly's archives because, well, she's just that cute and I'm just that nosy.

I know I know, I'm breaking my no meme rule again, but just like every other rule in my life, once its imposed I get twitchy and irritable and find ways around it. This isn't technically a meme because I'm not tagging anyone and I wasn't tagged. And this one is just FUN. To play, just cut & paste the list to your blog, and bold any of the ones that are true. Or don't. You know..because this isn't a meme.

Smoked a cigarette
Crashed a friend's car
Stolen a car
Been in love - YES
Been dumped - Hi Mauricio!
Shoplifted - my mother still unknowingly wears the fugly jacket I stole from Contempo Casuals when I was 15.
Been fired - Technically I was fired for quitting.
Been in a fist fight
Snuck out of your parent's house - I was raised SO strictly religious that all of my relationships up to the age of eighteen were conducted through my bedroom window.
Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back - Hi Andrew!
Been arrested
Gone on a blind date - Yes. And he brought this movie with him. 'Nuff said.
Lied to a friend - not lately
Skipped school
Seen someone die
Had a crush on one of your internet friends - I lust after him.
Been to Canada
Been to Mexico - yep
Been on a plane - often while heavily medicated and sobbing
Purposely set a part of yourself on fire - WTF?
Eaten sushi - love me some wasabi
Been jet-skiing - Oh, how you will all know how NOT cool I am when this isn't highlighted.
Met someone in person from the internet - not until this happens
Been moshing at a concert
Taken pain killers - Can't you see it in my eyes?
Loved and missed someone
Made a snow angel - This made my head throb for an hour. Are you supposed to wear a hat?
Had a tea party - Only the kind where I lean against my daughter's play table asking repeatedly "How are you today Mr. Bear?" in a monotone.
Flown a kite - The best memory I have with my father.
Built a sand castle
Gone puddle jumping
Played dress up - those home fires don't keep themselves burning, you know!
Jumped in a pile of leaves
Gone sledding - the first time was with my mom after church in our dresses, using our car mats as sleds; she's a riot.
Cheated while playing a game
Been lonely
Fallen asleep at work or school
Used a fake ID- Oooooh, my. So, I'm SIX months away from turning 21 and my roommate and I just want to check out this new club that opened right down the street from our place. We drive all the way into the city (San Francisco) and spend $200 (all we had to our names) for fake ID's. Of course they have to be out of state, so we choose Illinois. As we stand in line at the club that night, we're loudly making conversation with the people around us about how its snowing "back home" and how much we love the Bears. When its our turn the bouncer takes one look at my ID, puts it in his pocket and says "Thanks for the ID". My roommate for some reason that we to this day cannot figure out, steps forward and hands her ID to him as well. Total loser moment. Then 2 weeks later I go on a blind double date. Guess who my date is? Bouncer!
Watched a sun set- last time was in Kauai a few months ago
Felt an earthquake -Born and raised in California; what do you think?
Touched a snake
Slept beneath the stars- Ha! I thought this said "stairs". Which also would have been highlighted.
Been robbed- While I was pregnant, people kept stealing our mail and trying to take Chris' identity. This almost ruined our credit and we were in a panic for about a year. I kept telling Chris that I feared one day I would come home and someone else would be sitting on the couch calling me honey and asking me what was for dinner.
Been misunderstood- Almost consistently. I often don't understand myself.
Petted a reindeer/goat - is this a joke?
Won a contest- I took 2nd place in a wet T-shirt contest about 1000 years ago - does that count? I also took 2nd place in a spelling bee. Here's to being second best!
Run a red light/stop sign
Been suspended from school - Never.
Been in a car accident - Twice. Calm down, Renee.
Eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night- I don't like ice cream. An entire loaf of french bread with olive oil, yes.
Had deja vu- I feel like I've answered this before.
Danced in the moonlight - I'm not entirely sure what this means. Am I outside in this scenario? Am I howling?
Liked the way you looked at least at one point in time - Once.
Witnessed a crime- Only a crime against good taste!
Been obsessed with post-it notes - Tell me this isn't a real obsession.
Squished barefoot through the mud
Been lost- I can hardly get from my office to the kitchen without getting lost. Or maybe that's distracted?
Been on the opposite side of the country
Swam in the ocean
Cried yourself to sleep
Played cops and robbers
Recently colored with crayons - Razmatazz rules!
Sung karaoke - What good Christian teen didn't?
Paid for a meal with only coins - How else do you pay for a 89 cent McDonalds burger?
Done something you told yourself you wouldn't- When have I done something I told myself I would?
Made prank phone calls- How do girls call boys these days with Caller ID?
Laughed until some kinda beverage came out of your nose- You'll want to not do this with vodka.
Caught a snow flake on your tongue - This one makes me giggle. Why would I remember this?
Written a letter to Santa Claus
Been kissed under the mistletoe by your boy/girlfriend
Watched the sun rise with someone you care about- Only when I gain 3 hours in Hawaii am I up that early.
Blown bubbles - My daughter is obsessed.
Made a bonfire on the beach
Laughed so hard you pee your pants- Ewww.
Cheated on a test
Been kissed by someone you didn't like - Don't make me think about this one - I have a very sensitive gag reflex. My only question is how can a man reach 33 years of age and kiss like a lizard??
Gone skinny dipping in a pool - sounds dangerous

There it is - everything you never wanted to know.

Nice Piece of ASSistant

2006-02-26T01:37:00.000-08:00

I've had a few interesting jobs in my time, but one takes the cake. You would think that the gem I endured for six months at Medi-Cal as a fax girl would be the most riveting, but no.

In the spring of 2000 I had been working as a Loss Mitigation Specialist for a bank for about five years and loving it. The majority of the time I was going up to bat for the customer to the board of directors and saving people from foreclosure while also mitigating the bank's losses (see the job title connect?). I loved what I did, did it well, and was often recognized for my contribution to the department's success.

Due to company "reorganization" (read: large lawsuits) our department was outsourced and I needed to find a new job fast. I worked in the Silicon Valley and this was during the tech boom when the words "pre IPO" were like landing on Monopoly's "Free Parking". I interviewed for and excitedly accepted a position as an executive assistant to the Executive Vice President Muckety Muck for a "pre IPO dot com" company, or so they said.

I wasn't too thrilled to be someone's assistant and not entirely sure what this would entail, but I was confident I would be able to handle it. Little did I know that I would be working for a sleazy car salesman who had apparently launched some sort of automotive software and now spent his days alternating between threatening and sexually harassing his employees.

And this "dot com" was as much an internet company as I am at this moment, since the only presence they had on the web was their lame website. What they did have was a bunch of former car salesmen and a harem of pretty overpaid girls with nothing to do.

During my long days of inventing things to keep myself busy, this boss of mine - let's call him Dick - would ask me the most inane things such as did I think he was good looking, was I happy with Mark (my boyfriend was Chris), and what would I do *hypothetically* if he were to buy me lingerie? This went on for about a year. I would often come into work to find him sitting at my desk reading my emails or taking my photos out of their frames for a closer inspection.

As if these traits were not enough fun for one girl he was also incredibly demeaning and chauvinistic when he wanted to be. He would often say in my presence, 'just give my girl a call' or 'I can have my girl grab lunch for us'.

There were also many occasions when he would call me on the intercom to come into the boardroom where he would be meeting with several (male) clients. When I would arrive, he would exchange glances with the others and tell me to never mind. Then silence as I left followed by loud jovial voices after the door closed. Nice.

So, it came as no surprise when we had this interaction after about a year of employment:

Dick (through the intercom): "Lena, can you come in my office?"

Me: "Yes?"

Dick: "Uh, yeah, do we have any more steak from the company picnic?"

Me: (How the hell would I know?) "I'm not sure."

Dick: "Well, uh, could you go run on and see?"

Me: "....."

Dick "Yeah, and if there is, go ahead and warm it up and cut it up for me."

Me: "Are you serious?"

Dick: "Yeah, just microwave it and cut it up into little bite size pieces. Be sure to bring me a fork."

Me: "You...want me....to..........cut your meat?"

Dick: "Yeah, that's right. Is there a problem?"

Me: "....A big one."

I'd like to say that I walked off the job then and there, but I had my wedding in four weeks and ginormous credit card bills. Instead, I went out to my car, pulled out my cell phone and called one of the banks that competes with my former employer.

I received a job offer from them three days later and joyously slammed my resignation down on Dick's desk.

His response: "Is this because I asked you to cut my meat?"

UPDATED TO ADD: Lest you think that I had horribly low self-esteem, let me assure you that is absolutely not the case. More respectably, I was just whoring for money. Dick traveled alot for business...to Vegas. I was cashing those fatty paychecks, driving his Jaguar, and planning myself a wedding on most days. The bank job I went on to paid me substantially less. But, you know, Life Without Dick: Priceless.

I Said "You Look Fat In Those Pants!"

2006-02-24T00:36:00.000-08:00

We have to talk.

Okay, so I'm sure you've noticed that I've gained ~~a few~~ seven pounds in the last month. I see the way you look at me warily as I put on those sweats. How you gently suggest a banana when I ask you to get me ice cream. But, do you know who is to blame? You are! Because if I wasn't on this godforsaken computer all day long feeling deceptively active I would actually be moving my limbs and not just my wrist. But, you bloggers! I'm addicted to you! To your funny and thought provoking blogs! To your generous and hilarious comments! It's a love affair.

We need to find a balance for our relationship. I need to realize that when I go away you'll still be there when I return and you need to know that I'm stuffing Doritos in my mouth like candy......and candy like Doritos.

I need to see other people.

Like the girl who checks me into the gym. And the man at the health food store where I used to wander squeezing the organic fruits and comparing trail mixes. I miss seeing my husband's face rather than the back of his head when I finally come to bed. Also, my daughter. She's lovely. I'm sure she's around here somewhere...

So, the good news is I have a plan! I am going to do something active every day. I'm either going to the gym to flail around with the weights, to one of Vi's godawful spin classes, or running on the treadmill rather than using it for this. Also, enough with the meals that only require one hand! I will now eat sensible things like blueberries and flax and free range chicken.

Remember a happy girl is a happy blogger, so only good things can come from this.

p.s.- A funny story goes with this post title:

I was at my favorite bar with my friends about eight years ago. I was really thinking I was the shizzle then and was dismissing every guy who approached me. Well, this one short, average looking, drunk fellow asks "Do you want to dance?". Without even looking at him I shake my head no. He then leans into my ear and yells over the music "No. I said, you look fat in those pants!" That was damn clever, don't you think?

Rushin' To Russian

2006-02-24T00:02:00.000-08:00

Those of you who know us know that we have been talking about adoption for a couple of years now. I almost died having S. - I developed an extremely rare condition called HELLP - and we went back and forth over whether we wanted to risk it (it, meaning ME) again.

It took us about six months post partum of anxious and fumbled attempts at other birth control methods before we decided that Chris would get a vasectomy. This was an incredibly difficult decision for Chris. Me, not so much. He had no doubts about doing it if it meant my safety, just mind numbing fear (Chris sways woozily when he has his blood pressure taken and FAINTS dead away when he gets his blood drawn - as a matter of fact, just recently I had to put his head in the freezer as he sat on the floor after he saw a DRIED DROP OF BLOOD on a blood type test card I was using). But, he pushed through, we got some entertaining pictures of him with his ice pack during recovery, and we were good again.

Until I decided two years later that we made a mistake.

I had since done alot of research on HELLP syndrome in those two years and had pretty much nailed down our recurrence risk percentage at 14%-27%. I know it seems like knowing almost a third of people with HELLP have a recurrence in a second pregnancy would have steered me away from wanting to get pregnant again, but in my baby lusting induced haze, these odds seemed good to me.

So, we started researching vasectomy reversals and I located a high risk obstetrician. But, while I had been thoroughly researching every medical journal that dealt with HELLP, I hadn't read many real life stories.

As we were saving up for a vasectomy reversal, I started reading these heart wrenching stories of premature babies dying or having serious issues, of new moms on life support, of new moms leaving two or more kids behind with a stunned husband. Late one night as I finished the last real life story on the official HELLP website, I sat and sobbed and sobbed. I knew that as much as I wanted to have another biological child, it would be supremely selfish. I already had a child who needed me and how dare I risk her mother's life.

We moved to plan B and started researching adoption websites. I don't know how many of you out there have adopted a caucasian newborn domestically, but God bless ya. Because the competition is so daunting, that you cannot help but stare as you scroll through page after page after page after page of profiles of hopeful adoptive couples.

The perfect looking couple sitting on the front lawn of their perfect 3,000 square foot house with their two well behaved dogs (that aren't too big - don't want to alarm any birthmothers), alongside their perfect profiles of friends and activities and organizations and charity work and vacation homes and solid careers.

These are mostly people who have devoted countless hours and dollars and years and tears dealing with infertility all leading them to this point, desperate and pleading.

The letters to the birthmothers sounded like they were writing to Mother Teresa, gobbing on the compliments and swooning with appreciation as if this unmarried teenage girl was put on earth solely to birth the Savior. I am sure that choosing to put your own unborn child up for adoption is no small decision, but I couldn't help feeling like this was a whole lot of ass kissing. I guarantee there are plenty of happy adoptive parents who are diagreeing with me wholeheartedly, but this was my opinion and, you know, I'm allowed to have one.

The whole thing felt like a talent show/beauty pageant. I was seeing backflips and magic tricks and flawless swimsuit bodies and all I could muster was a lopsided somersault.

We lead a charmed life, yes. But, one, we already have a child and that child is biological. Nothing screams of favoritism like that setup. And, two, I just couldn't see myself emoting on this level when what I really wanted to say was, "Hey, you got yourself knocked up but you want to go on to finish college? I'll take him off your hands for you! I may overdraw my checking account, my house may be covered in dog hair and Cheetos, and I may in fact possess a functioning uterus, but I'm the real deal chick. I have this parenting thing down. Also, $30,000 burning a hole in my pocket!"

After this realization, there was more sobbing.

And then we discovered Russia.

Stay tuned.

Things I Do Now That My Younger Self Would Never Believe

2006-02-23T00:06:00.000-08:00

It's funny because it's true.

1. Heatedly complain about the produce section at the grocery store ("The tomatoes are bruised, the oranges are anemic, and frankly the pears are mealy.").

2. Roll my eyes at the theater concession stand and scoff "Wow! What a deal! Great prices!" upon hearing the total. Every. Single. Time.

3. Be afraid to have parties because I don't have the right linens.

4. Secretly accuse teenagers who offer to babysit as just wanting to use my house as their drunken sex lair.

5. Take it one step further when I don't get asked for ID and ask the clerk why?

6. Feel worse when his response is 'kids generally aren't buying leeks with their booze'.

7. TIVO 'Golden Girls' and remark to Chris "Now, that was a show."

8. Make my family a sensible dinner, then consume six fun size Snickers while standing in the pantry.

9. Accuse my neighbor of stealing my measuring cup for two weeks before finding it in the back of my dishwasher.

10. Have stroller envy.

11. Ask Chris to name all the girls he thinks I'm prettier than. And why.

12. Harrass my four year old to please play Nintendo with me.

______________________________

Blobbers Unite!

2006-02-21T16:11:00.000-08:00

Lest you ~~know~~ think that all I do is sit on my ass all day in front of the computer, I present you with exhibit A.

Why yes that is a tiny ballerina crafted with my own tweezers. Perfect mommy and me time.

True, S. did abandon the project about six minutes into it, leaving me to work alone for the next hour. But hey, the effort was there. At a minimum I have another piece of evidence in my mounting defense that I was a good mother. See! I made tiny little ballerinas! I envision this proof being needed exactly eleven years from now as a teenage S. and I yell at each other in the hallway.

________________

In other news, S. is sick today - nasty cough and continuous tears because her nose is running and she REFUSES to blow it. But, she did have a great nap. As evidenced here,

That cat IS as big as he looks. Look at those paws. Careful, he won't hesitate to eat you.

________________

Now, I have saved the best news for last. Guess which two blobbers are headed to San Ho, California in just a few short months to attend this? Vi and are so thrilled that we've been talking over each other all morning in excitement.

I admired Blogher '05 from afar last year and to actually be attending this year is fantastical. I can't wait to meet some of my favorite blobbers face to face, learn some new mad blogging skills, "add to the blogging community", "identify my personal space", blah blah blah, but mostly I'm looking forward to this equation: 2 laptops + 2 best friends + 18 iced coffees + cute shoes - 4 kids - 2 husbands + countless bloggers = blogphoria.

The unique opportunity that blogging affords us is to be able to "meet" each other without awkwardness, without judgements. To be able to put ourselves out there in a way we probably never would in real life, and then - surprise! - people still like us! Maybe even more so.

We share advice, jokes, tears, and laughter. We probably know things about each other that some of our closest friends in real life don't even know. And yet we couldn't pick each other out in a crowd.

That's what's so fantabulous about this conference. Bringing all of these dynamics together - women from different backgrounds and cultures and demographics - with this single great thing in common. I hope to see some of you there. I hope to see all of you there!

Promise you'll tell me who you are. I don't talk to strangers.

P.S.-This post would have been so much better if I hadn't had this running dialogue the whole freaking time with S. who's behind me on the Polly Pocket site - "Mommy, isn't this pretty?" "Mmm-hmm. That's pretty." "Mommy, is this pretty?" "Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's pretty." "Mommy, is this pretty?" "....What? Oh, uh-huh." "Mommy, is this...". You get the picture.

Farewell SPT

2006-02-21T15:46:00.000-08:00

Just so you know, because I am sure the entire blogosphere was in an uproar over this, I am no longer doing Self Portrait Tuesday.

(let audience gasps subside)

As much as I enjoy looking at myself, the act of taking weekly pictures of myself seemed a little...I don't know. Other people do it very well. Me - not so much. However, I do like the idea of putting up photographs every Tuesday that I've taken during the week. So, there it is. The new business plan.

It's Funny Cuz It's Truuuue

2006-02-20T11:31:00.000-08:00

Andy Gibb Wants Me

2006-02-19T14:54:00.000-08:00

I'm really trying hard not to post continuous meme's even though I see some fun ones almost every day. And I do love to answer questions. Seriously, I even enjoy filling out the forms attached to the clipboard at the doctor's office. Reflecting on my choices, checking the boxes, learning new things about myself (was the first day of my last period really nine days ago? Why, yes. Yes it was.), practicing the loop on my signature. I guess I'm easily entertained. But, I digress.

I came across this neato-pateato over at The World According To Me. It really is more of a cool link than a meme, so I feel comfortable throwing it up here. You put your birth date in to see what the #1 song was on the day you were born. You can also put in your 18th birthday to see what your "Life Song" is.

Me:

Birth Day-
"I Just Want To Be Your Everything" - Andy Gibb

Not entirely sure who this is, but I have a feeling you will enlighten me. Was he dreamy?

Life Song-
"Waterfalls" - TLC

This is not too bad of a song in summation of my entire life, I suppose. I was really hoping it would be "Smack My Bitch Up" or "Hoes and Bitches" because I think that really would have been a nice life mantra.

Chris:

Birth Day -
"Please Mr. Postman" - The Marvelettes

The fact that the Marvelettes were the hot number when he was born is going to make Chris sulk the rest of the day.

Life Song -
"Babe" - Styx

As in, he was one. See?

He swears he never told me this, but I do recall something about highlights and a ...PERM. Mmm-hmm. Is that what all the kids were up to in the early 80's? My, my, my. You were a busy bunch.

Mookie:

Birth Day -
"I'm Real" - JLo

I would like to issue a public apology to my daughter for not taking this into consideration when I started internally hemorraging causing her to be born five weeks early. If I had known it was between my life and you being forever tied to this twit...I might have taken one for the team.

Try it. It's nifty.

Oh...Things Are Going To Get Fancy

2006-02-19T00:20:00.000-08:00

I have arrived! I am part of the bourgeois!

I have a table. With legs. And it's rectangle. Rectangle! It can seat eight people. I can actually place seven guests at the dinner table with me rather than in the bathroom. This pleases me to no end. And also my guests, I can imagine. (Is that why you're not taking my calls anymore?).

The helpful men in the shiny white truck deposited this gem in my kitchen just moments ago. It is gleaming and proud. It wants me to put things on it. A vase of flowers. Some placemats. A bow in its hair. They call it "distressed", but she looks down right ebullient to me.

And did I mention the chairs? They're curvacious. They're upright. They're happy.

And their cushions. How did they manage to incorporate every color of my kitchen into those lovely little ass warmers?

And the table has tiny drawers on either end! Which I can only imagine is for tater tots. They will be put to good use.

I know it seems I'm overreacting, but I'm really not. We owe so much in taxes next month that I could not fathom that we would be the proud owners of anything more costly than sea monkeys for the next year. And yet. We have managed.

Woo-hoo for me!

Want to come to dinner? Bring six of your closest friends. We're having tater tots.

All About Eve

2006-02-18T14:14:00.000-08:00

Oh, myyyyy. Excuse me if this post seems a little off as I am typing through a fit of laughter.

My BFF over at The Green Straw did a little diddy where this site scans a picture of your face and matches you with celebrities you look like.

Or so they say.

Because if I looked anything like these girls Chris wouldn't be able to sleep, he'd be so thrilled. As would I. As would I.

My pic was the quickest closeup picture I had on hand and a semi -accurate representation.

But, this. This rivals all practical jokes played on me.

This was my closest match.

I'll give you a minute so you can double over in laughter......

Then there was this...
Uh-huh.

But, wait. There's more.

Yep. And then they kicked it up a notch.

Then finally they were honest.

I'd like to think my most similar feature to Sofia Coppola is her hair, but we all know the truth.

Have a good laugh? Good. Don't say I never get you anything.

Valley Of the Dolls

2006-02-17T18:07:00.000-08:00

My daughter and I went shopping for dolls recently. Can I just say I am disgusted with these dolls? Who thinks these are okay? What kind of world do we live in when four year olds are playing with prostitutes? I challenge anyone to tell me that these dolls do not look like hookers. Their makeup, their hair, their clothes, their nasty attitudes. And the most alarming thing is that these dolls are flying off the shelves!

It is a laugh to me that some women see these dolls as empowering for their daughters. I understand that Barbie with her big pointy boobs and implicit submission is not quite the image we want to uphold for our daughters, but this is extreme. Since when is nastiness and trashiness a reflection of independence and self worth? Also, where the hell are their noses?

My biggest fear for my child is that she is going to feel the need to compete with other women in "selling" herself to boys. That she will feel obligated to lower her standards, her morals, her personal taste, in order to be packaged like the girls around her.

Right now she calls these dolls "mean girls" and she pretends not to like them. But, I can see the curiousity in her eyes; the interest. It makes me sick, people. I know they're just dolls. But, if I as her mother, THE most influential person in her life, spend my money on this image and hand it to her to play with, what message am I sending? It is a slippery slope.

I know, for myself, I started dating young with one goal in mind: to get him to want me. And the "him" was ambiguous. Even the "want" part was not clearly defined. I did not care how he treated me, as long as he did. I bounced from one relationship to the next, overlapping every time, in the hopes that the next guy would save me from the last one. When the thing that really needed saving was my spirit, not my body. And this was a hard lesson to learn - to love myself as much alone as in a relationship - one I would have preferred to learn as a child.

I don't want S. to have to be saved. I don't want her to want to be chosen. I want her to be the chooser.

And what keeps me up at night is, 'How can I instill the ability to be discerning in her little mind, so that as she grows she makes choices based on what she knows she deserves?' 'How can I teach her that a man is secondary to her relationship with herself?'

Well, I'm choosing these damn Bratz as my jumping off point.

So, I bought these.
They're made of wood with interchangeable clothes. Don't laugh.

Thursday Thirteen

2006-02-16T00:40:00.000-08:00

13 Titles For Thursday Thirteens

1. 13 Times I've Used Ass In a Sentence Today

(if I'm not talking about mine, I'm talking about yours)

2. 13 Ways To Serve an Iffy Chicken

(you know, the one you forgot was "defrosting" on the counter for 12 hours?)

3. 13 Ways I've Discovered a Friend Is Not a Friend

(#1 - I'm gonna go with Beer Bottle To the Head '98)

4. 13 Ways I Spend My Husband's Money

(would kick this one off with 'regularly finding interest accruing credit card bills under the couch')

5. 13 Ways I've Left a Relationship

(the winner here would be the time I went to the bathroom during dinner and didn't come back)

6. 13 Clients I Don't Have

(If we had a "Thursday One" game, I could do the reverse of this)

7. 13 Games I Play With My Daughter That Involve Me Lying Prone

8. 13 Neuroses I Have Put Up With In Past Relationships

(I could do 113. I think my favorite was the One Who Had To Vacuum In the Middle of the Night).

9. 13 Posts I Can Never Post

(ooooh, wouldn't this be a good one? But, then you know, the bell and the unringing and so on...)

10. 13 Reasons the Thought of Running Makes Me Gag

(although this has never happened to me, I might include this)

11. 13 Reasons I Suspect My Husband Is a Superhero

(for starters - #1 He likes pain (who else pouts when they can't go to the gym?) #2 He paints things like this and #3 He cleans the kitchen)

12. 13 Reasons I Fondle My Tivo Remote

(I think "Lost" would be #1-#6 and #13 might be because it likes it).

13. 13 Reasons Why I Thought This Would Be a Killer List and Now Not So Much

______________________________

Links to other Thursday Thirteens

1. The Green Straw

2. Selfish Behind the Scenes

3. The Purple Giraffe

7. Whiskey Talking

9. Novelist In Training

10. The World According To Me

11. Sweet Domesticity

12. Diary Of the Nello

13. Sam's Spot

14. Confessions Of a Busy Mom

15. The Ocean Lady

16. All About Fun and Life

17. Compu-Diva

18. The Breathing Room

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

This Is Awkward - I Didn't Get You Anything

2006-02-16T00:01:00.000-08:00

Since it has recently been suggested that I give good comment, here's one you might find enjoyable:

"Get your voting self over to One Woman's World and vote for me!"

My category is "Best Commentor", but I believe for me specifically it is also being referred to as, "She who whores herself all over the blogosphere brain farting and misspelling throughout respectable people's blogs".

I'm sure that my fellow nominees are lovely people who leave poetic comments of encouragement and kind words. How I ended up in this category with my rambling disjointed tales and bad jokes, I do not know.

But, to the forgiving soul(s) who saw these for what they are - desperate ploys for attention - I thank you.

Good Thing I Have Both

2006-02-15T18:12:00.000-08:00

Here's my mom and I in the car today.

MOM: "You know on the news yesterday they were interviewing men asking what the most important quality in a woman is. And you know what they said? 'A sense of humor'."

ME: Are you sure they didn't say 'A set of hooters?'

MOM: (purses lips disdainfully) "I can see why YOU never had trouble getting dates."

Would I Look More "Ready" If I Were Better Looking?

2006-02-15T10:22:00.000-08:00

After Chris left this morning to take S. to school and see a client, I got out of bed, showered, did my makeup, put my hair up, got dressed, made the bed, did two loads of laundry, called my mother in law and chatted for an hour, made a coffee, came upstairs and sat down at my computer.

At which point Chris came back from his appointment, came in the office, worked for a little bit, and then said "I'll go pick S. up from school. You're obviously not ready to go out. You just got out of bed and sat down at your computer, right?"

And he meant it nicely people.

Is it the ponytail?

Bad Things Come In Small Packages

2006-02-14T15:12:00.000-08:00

In honor of crappy Valentines Days passed, I give you the following caller's story on The Don and Mike Show which my husband has streaming in our office right now.

Last year the caller's husband presented her with a V-Day gift. It was a beautiful Victoria's Secret box and when she opened it, there was a 38 DD bustier inside.

And she is a 32 AA.

After some awkward excuses he admitted that he bought two gifts and that the bustier was for his girlfriend. Apparently Victoria's Secret mixed up the two gifts.

Wha...?

Can you imagine??

The kicker is that the caller said they're "still working things out". And by this I can only hope that she meant that he's still living out of his car.

I hope everyone has a great day today! At a minimum I hope all your gifts are actually yours.

Why I'm Large and In Charge

2006-02-14T12:05:00.000-08:00

So, instead of going to spin class last night I stayed home and made brownies. (Sorry Vi!) I can think of no better excuse to skip physical exercise than in order to eat baked goods.

Then since I was on a roll (and shaped like one), I ate a casserole dish of spinach dip and half a loaf of french bread while watching "The Bachelor". Yay for me and my weight loss plan!

In other news, I get to spend today working. Which means an entire day of repetitive sweaty motion as I assemble, load, and deliver gifts to my client. I never feel sexier than when I'm hauling ass all over a parking lot with 30 pound spa trunks. So, I have that to look forward to. And the best part is that I've already spent the money I made on this order! Fantastic.

The upside is that I get to see my mom whom I haven't seen in about a month. I'm one of those rarities who is best friends with her mother.

The woman is a dynamo. I don't think I've ever seen her sit down. But, if she did, you can be sure it was to paint something or scoop cracker bits into her hand off the carpet. When she's not cleaning or decorating or cooking or teaching the Bible, she's building something. Like a full size playhouse for my daughter. With a fireplace. And granite counters.

And then she paints things like this.

Yeah. Is it any wonder that I confine my interests to the computer. Why bother?

I also have more fun things planned for the week. Like finally doing my taxes followed by openly weeping in my accountant's arms. And only then do I get to get back to the gym. You cannot buy this kind of excitement!

Happy Prez Day

2006-02-13T14:34:00.000-08:00

It has been brought to my attention that today is not actually a holiday. But, I have to point out that my husband is outside washing the car when he WOULD normally be at work and my child is at home when she WOULD normally be at school and Target was a MADHOUSE today so much so that I didn't have a CART and I got 20% off the kitchen table I bought yesterday...all in honor of Presidents Day! So, yeah. Next Monday is the official holiday, but you know, they did that pesky thing of combining both Lincoln and Washington's B-day awhile back and now we have one actual day we acknowledge. And the one that gets me my knotty pine kitchen table for $200 less is the one I celebrate!

So, in honor of our founding fathers I give you some completely unrelated sarcasm. These are pretty good. And pretty accurate.

Inside me lives a skinny woman crying to get out. But I can usually shut the bitch up with cookies.

- author unknown -

(Let's say I said it.)

I refuse to think of them as chin hairs. I think of them as stray eyebrows.

-Janette Barber-

My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first one being -- hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.

-Erma Bombeck-

(This one makes me do the ugly laugh.)

A man's got to do what a man's got to do. A woman must do what he can't.

-Rhonda Hansome-

The phrase "working mother" is redundant.

-Jane Sellman-

Thirty-five is when you finally get your head together and your body starts falling apart.

-Caryn Leschen-

(I can hardly wait.)

I'm not offended by all the dumb blonde jokes because I know I'm not dumb -- and I'm also not blonde.

-Dolly Parton-

I have yet to hear a man ask for advice on how to combine marriage and a career.

-Gloria Steinem-

(Good one Gloria!)

I am a marvelous housekeeper. Every time I leave a man, I keep his house.

-Zsa Zsa Gabor-

Nobody can make you feel inferior without your permission.

-Eleanor Roosevelt-

Remember this motto to live by: Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"

If that's the case, then I'm off to a good start.

He'd Pick Me If He Could

2006-02-13T13:36:00.000-08:00

If you care - and I DO!- then you should already know that The Bachelor has his overnight dates in Paris tonight with the three remaining contestants. Also, as an aside, in an effort to remember one of the girl's names I accidentally registered online for ABC's The Bachelor Sweepstakes Fan Club. I am offically a loser.

Here's my prediction:

SUSAN

Puh-lease! This girl is so using this show to get a gig. Watching her with Travis makes me wince. Did she really say "I'm a smitten kitten"? No really. Did she? I can't stop saying this to Chris now. Who refers to themselves as a kitten anyway? Also, in her profile she described herself as "charismatic", which we all knows means "liar" and her ideal mate as "tall and gullible" or something like that. I only know this because I'm a MEMBER of The Bachelor Fan Club. Did I mention that?

I predict Travis boots her next week, but not tonight.

SARAH

This girl is just in the mix because she makes Travis seem deep. She's nice and all, but she seems more like his sister and that's creepy. Plus, she described herself in her bio as "loyal, thoughtful, and hard working" and that's just boring. I'm joking of course. The real issue is he looks like he's napping when he's with her.

Sarah's going to get the big "See Ya!" tonight.

MOANNA

Okay, so last week she did blabber on so pathetically that I felt almost frightened for Travis' safety, but she is the best of the three. She does have some emotional issues, but I think Travis has the depth to overlook those and focus on her hot body and gorgeous face. I know you want the inside scoop, so I'll tell you that her bio said her perfect date would "involve, most importantly, alot of laughing." This seems promising, although so far it seems its most important to her to sob uncontrollably.

Moanna will get the F.R. next week. (I abbreviated "Final Rose" because, you know, I AM a member and that's how we do it on the inside.)

Stay tuned...

UPDATED TO ADD: This has got to be the most predictable final rose ceremony ever. I was wrong about who he booted last night, but the war is already won. I can't imagine things turning around with Sarah whom he described as a "friend" again last night. This after he and Moanna practically wed the night before. So, yeah. This is almost boring now. Aaaaand from the lack of comments, it looks like I'm the last to figure this out.

I'm a Late Bloomer

2006-02-11T10:02:00.000-08:00

I am atwitter with glee. I am the proud owner of this and let me tell you, I am a better person for it. I know all of you have had your espresso makers for years already and are yawning right now - I feel like the last girl in the group to get her period. But this is groundbreaking for me!

I hadn't wanted to invest in one because I kept giving up coffee. But, then I'd do tea, then chai, then chai latte, then I would actually start dreaming about coffee (who does this??), so then an occasional decaf latte followed aaaaaand now I'm back on the juice: grande nonfat mocha.

So, I shopped around - this is the best website for reviews - and my cafe bistro (it's actually called that - don't you want to just hold it?) arrived last week. Since that time, my friends, I have been a foaming fool. I do peppermint mochas, I do vanilla lattes, I do chai lattes. I even did an iced mocha for Vi, which she loved and she is hard core (her site is called 'the green straw' for God's sake).

So, every morning is a delight now. Not only am I saving about $200 a month on not going to Starbucks, but I get to call out my name when I put my coffee on the counter. And that's just fun.

p.s.- By the way, the title of this post makes me laugh because I had DD's when I was 11. But, that's another post.

Blog Envy

2006-02-10T10:30:00.000-08:00

You know what I'm talking about. Don't lie to yourself. You've just spent three hours drafting the perfect post. Funny, but not too funny, thought-provoking, a tad racy. You're a little smug.

Then two days go by: nothing. No comments.

So, you start browsing other blogs and you come across one with a recent post title of like,"Why My Hamster Is Fun". But, wait. She has 76 comments! People love her! They're flocking to her! So, you take a look at her profile. She's in your age range. She lives in suburbia like you do. She has the same number of kids you do. She's just like you! You're so similar and yet, so not. And then the jealousy starts. You're thinking 'I'm better than this!' And yet you have to remind your husband to read you. You're miffed.

But, this. This is the worst scenario. You see a great blog - one to make all the blogs bow in respect - and the content is freaking amazing. She's funny, she's honest, she's subtle. You want to hate her. But, you can't. Despite yourself, you're laughing out loud and clamping your hand over your mouth. She's awesome. And you can't even claim to be funnier than her. She rocks.

And then you realize that there really is no original thought. We are all out here in the dark vast blogosphere inspiring each other - bringing different perspectives to the light. We're like one big blog. And you wish them the best. ...and start emailing their audience bribes.

p.s.- No offense to people who have actually written about their hamsters. I'm sure you made it very... interesting.

I Actually Said This Yesterday

2006-02-09T11:57:00.001-08:00

Impatiently to Vi:

"Vi, if you don't jump on that turtle and push it, I don't know what I'll do".

If you've been reading then you know what Vi and I have been up to lately and the context. But, it's funnier if you don't. Hell, it's funny both ways!

Thursday Thirteen

2006-02-08T15:48:00.000-08:00

13 Things I Do That I Know Cannot Be Normal

1. Clean my entire house with Clorox Wipes.

2. Re-wash the same load of laundry five times because I keep forgetting about it.

3. Not notice that my husband shaved his goatee for two entire days. I swear I look at his face. Often.

4. Cry on the phone to the receptionist when making a doctor's appointment. For a routine physical.

5. Tap my Coke can before opening (Does anyone know why I do this? Where did I pick this up? I can't stop!)

6. Repeatedly interrupt my working husband to sing "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?" while slapping my own ass.

7. Overdraw my checking account with Target purchases.

8. Refuse to read a book that someone else has read before me. I must purchase my own copy! (See #7).

9. Continue to order a Mocha Valencia at Starbucks and then not drink it. (I don't think I like Valencia after all).

10. Palpate my abdomen for masses during yoga class.

11. Clean before the housekeeper comes (back when I could afford a housekeeper - See #7).

12. Hide in my garage from my neighbors. And on the rare occasion when they do spot me, shout out "Heeeeey there!" and vigorously wave, grinning wildly.

13. Perform every function of my day with the thought in mind that I'm one step closer to sitting and eating chips.

...and just to keep it balanced, I give you addendum A

13 Things I Do Inordinately Well

1. Find obscenely close parking spaces at the mall during Christmas.

2. Make voices for animals (not animal voices, voices for animals. There's a difference. A big one.)

3. Paint (walls, not pictures).

4. Make people laugh. (Maybe not you, dear reader, but there are others. It's not all about you!)

5. Write extremely well-informed, thoroughly researched, coherent papers without doing a lick of actual research.

6. Give the perfect gift to a person I hardly know.

7. Give advice.

8. Pick things up with my toes. Like the cat.

9. Sell my products and run my business...when I want to.

10. Get a party started. (See #8)

11. Maintain a 4.0 GPA (this feat is being aided by the fact that I haven't registered for classes for the last 3 quarters).

12. Regularly provide clean folded laundry for my cats to sleep on.

13. Make lists.

Links to other Thursday Thirteens!

1. my suspension of disbelief

3. maremagnum

5. Dorannes

9. Selfish Behind the Scenes

10. Wordplay

11. Ikat

12. Whiskey Talking

I'm Being Stalked

2006-02-08T15:25:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make. I hate laundry. Not just like, "Oh, I'd rather not put the clothes in the washer. What a bore." More like, "Can we just move?"

Laundry is my nemesis. It lurks around every corner. It leers at me from across the room. It grows and mutates and travels down the hallway. The problem is that I do not have a system. I've heard plenty of girlfriends refer to a day of the week as their "laundry day". What the heck? I swear to God, if I actually knowingly designate an entire day to doing nothing but laundry I will claw my eyes out. What kind of life is that? Where is the hope? What is worse than knowing Wednesday holds nothing more for you than retrieving underwear from inside pants? Please.

So, yesterday my naked husband is bent over the dryer and I ask (over my shoulder from the computer - where else would I be?) "What are you doing?". Folks, he is washing all of his underwear! He has dug out every single pair he owns and is climbing over the dirty clothes pile in the laundry room in order to have clean underwear. Especially his lucky red ones. (Which came in a tri-color pack -green, red, white. The green ones were done long ago...since that's his favorite color.)

So, I think 'How long has this been going on?' And then I state the obvious. "Hooooney! Don't be so dramatic. We can always buy more."

I anticipate my husband will be available shortly. Check back soon!

Two Guesses And the First One Doesn't Count

2006-02-07T14:52:00.000-08:00

Vi started a game of 20 Questions and tagged Blue Tige who tagged Stacy who tagged me who swallowed the bird to catch the spider to catch the fly.....

Here we go:

1. Best memory?
The day I found out I was pregnant. I actually pinched myself that day. I was all alone when I took the test and the excitement was almost more than I could contain. Mostly because I knew I could now eat entire pizzas and people would look on approvingly. I know my favorite memory should be the day my daughter was born, but since I almost died that day, that memory is a bit of a mix. The day I found out I was going to have a baby was pure euphoria unsullied by any fears.

2. Most terrible day?
Easy. The day my father died. I remember numbly driving down the freeway after, looking around, thinking "It's Monday. People are driving to the grocery store. People are headed to Chili's for dinner with their family. How could he die on a day like this? A day like every other day?"

3. Birth City?
Livermore, CA

4. Favorite thing to do?
Peruse my favorite blogs with a piping hot fresh mocha and my husband next to me at his computer.

5. Hollywood Crush? and why?
Matthew McConaughey. Do you even have to ask?

6. Favorite food?
My mom's chicken soup. (how novel, I know)

7. City you want to visit most and why?
New York. I have always been fascinated by the attitude, the culture, the fashion, the shopping, the entertainment.

8. Fantasy/dream that you want to come true?
To be a published author would be my dream. My wish would be that my daughter live a full happy life.

9. Favorite sport?
Hmm. Taking my stairs two at a time? Actually, if pressed, I'd have to say baseball because that is what brought my husband and I together. I pretended to like it and he invited me to a game. Presto! Marriage!

10. How long have you been married?
Five years.

11. Favorite song and why?
"You Were Meant For Me" by Jewel. I used to sing it in the shower when Chris and I were dating. Subliminal messaging. ;)

12. Someone you most admire?
My mother. (Whom I hope doesn't read this and see that I was in the shower while Chris and I were dating. Ha!)

13. Someone you hate and why?
A person who is in someone's life that I care about who is causing her grief. Can I be more vague?

14. Secret crush?
Kevin James from "King of Queens". I like funny!

15. One (maybe 2) rule/s you live by?
Never say something about someone you love behind their back that you wouldn't say to their face. (It took me years to figure this one out!)

Always say "I love you" when you leave.

16. Do you believe in God?
With all of my heart.

17. A dark secret (we won’t tell)
I once keyed a former boss' car. (She was really mean. I mean really mean. I swear. ...Okay, it was wrong.)

18. Most treasured item and why?
My wedding rings. Because they're... my wedding rings?

19. If you could turn back time, what would you do and why?
I would have gone to college earlier and kept at it despite my parents' lack of support.

20. Last but certainly not least, what kind of “work” do you do and do you enjoy it?

This one is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.

hahahahahaha

Actually, I own a corporate gift business. I started it with my mother five years ago while pregnant, so that I could stay at home. The business ended up being far more lucrative and demanding than I ever imagined. Then we landed a little account called Warner Bros. Heard of it? :) Then...well, we'll save that for a different post. I don't want to kill my buzz.

TAG! YOURE IT!

1. Chris - See Wilson Go (this will be nice & light for him ;)
2. Renee - Selfish Behind the Scenes (she'll tickle your funny)
3. Chic Mommy - she has 3 kids and I'm sure doesn't get enough games. LOL

S.P.T. - Now Even More Boring!

2006-02-07T12:17:00.000-08:00

I'm disenchanted with myself. This is getting old.

Notice my daughter in the background. See how she's decided to take matters into her own hands and document her childhood where she can?

Peace

2006-02-06T16:04:00.000-08:00

As much as I like to be funny, sometimes the serious things bully the funny thoughts right out of my brain. All I'm left with are big burly negative observations while the funny ideas are off pouting in the recesses of my mind.

Take today for example. I woke up in a foul mood and things that I normally find amusing made me want to throttle someone. The cat batting at my eyes for instance.

So, I take S. to dance class. Her instructor is a Nazi and if you don't believe me try being three minutes late ONCE and see how she looks past you like a blind person whenever you try to talk to her for the rest of the season. Anyway, of course I'm running late, which makes me start to cry a little in the car as we race over there - one hand on the steering wheel, the other swinging S. around in the backseat by her hair trying to fashion it into the required "ballerina bun". We arrive two minutes late and while it is apparent that this has not gone unnoticed by Ms. Dance Fever, she is still acknowledging our presence; a good sign. I wrestle S. into a waytoosmall costume since all of the larges are taken and go wait outside with the other moms. I could make this post about how the other moms act like I'm a leper, but I'll save that for a day when I actually give a crap. So, as I'm standing there at the glass still buzzing with race-the-clock anxiety, I start watching my daughter follow the instructor.

I slowly feel myself relax. I watch her little body awkwardly attempting the tough dance moves. She 'plies' and 'glissades' and does a 'pas de chat'. Her eyes never leave the instructor. Her face is set in concentration. She is off beat and out of step. She is stamping her foot heavily when she should be touching it down lightly. She is clumsily skipping at an angle instead of gracefully gliding.

And she's never looked more beautiful to me.

She doesn't know that she is being watched and this makes me well up. She is trying so hard and it isn't for me or for her father. It's for herself. She wants to do this so badly. And the fact that she has the confidence at four years old to push through these difficult moves over and over week after week trying to get it perfect, fills me with pride. I'm not only proud of her, I'm proud of us as parents.

I look at her back as she stands in line waiting her turn at the 'pas de deux' with the instructor and I see myself as a little girl.

I remember the way I would feel in class settings. My mother would have been crying as she dropped me off at school. She would have smiled through her tears as she kissed me goodbye, told me to have a good day. I would have run to my class as we would have been very late. As I stood at that window looking at my daughter I suddenly recalled so vividly what it felt like to be me then. I would have sat in class unable to hear the teacher, unable to relate to the other kids, my head full of the hateful words my parents had been spitting just moments before. The sound of my father yelling, my mother screaming at him over my head as she brushed my hair. The way he looked like he hated us when he was angry. The screaming. The crying. The threats. The hate. I remember feeling so lost. So different. So out of place. So incompenent. So invisible. So worried.

Although I did well in school, it was only due to the schoolwork being an excuse to not interact with the other kids. I don't recall ever making a concerted effort to make myself proud. To push myself. To keep trying after I failed. The last thing I wanted was to stand out.

So, to see my daughter push herself; to know that her little mind was clear of distraction, of self-loathing, made me fight tears.

If Chris and I mess up a million times as parents (and we're pretty close, I'm sure) I have at least given my daughter peace in her own skin. And I am incredibly proud of myself for that.

Is This Thing On?

2006-02-05T14:37:00.000-08:00

Okay, now that Blogger is back up my life has meaning again! Vi came over yesterday to work on our Cafe Press designs (just wait for it people, it's going to be fantastical) and when we found out our sites couldn't be accessed we were downtrodden. We were lost. We were confused. We were bitter.

(The following dialogue I am shamelessly lifting from my own comment in my comment section)

VI: My site's not coming up!
ME: Mine either!!
VI: For all that is holy, what is going on!!!
ME: What do we do???!!!

(We stare at each other)

ME: What did we do before blogging?
VI: I don't remember. Did I even like you?

After spending countless hours as refresh button monkeys, we finally turned to each other and agreed we would need to find a new interest for the day. Inevitably, Tivo followed. Then pizza. Then, inexplicably, Nintendo.

Now, its Super Bowl Sunday and my family and I are off to the Mormon's house for some good clean fun. Without coffee. Without alcohol. How ARE they so joyous all the time? It's inhuman. I better go if I have to find that 32 Ouncer from 7-11. You know, for my "water". Riiight.

Help

2006-02-04T20:53:00.000-08:00

I'm stuck