how do I stop this crazy train?

flat finch's day at the beach

2011-03-13T14:24:00.000-07:00

Out getting the "stache" some air!

Supervising the sandcastle building

She looks just like him!

enjoying some sunshine in Jacksonville and feeling slightly miffed that he forgot his speedo

Fecal Fun

2008-09-11T08:27:00.000-07:00

Fecal Fun
I am an admitted germaphobe but for the last few months I have been making serious efforts to let my child out of her sanitary bubble. I decided I didn’t want my daughter to grow up and be afraid of the world around her. One of the biggest steps I have taken has been letting my precious baby go into fast food play areas. I know what you are thinking, “why don’t you just let her lick a public toilet, it’s probably cleaner”? Generally I can sit there for 45 minutes with a slightly upset stomach watching her gleefully climb around in god knows what and then take her straight home and put her clothes in the wash and her in the tub.
Initially I would make a preliminary sweep of the play area, climbing through with a sanitizing wipe on each hand scrubbing any suspicious spots but alas I have gotten lazy and quit. Yesterday was cold and rainy and with it being a night week I had a lot of hours to fill for an energetic two year old so we met some friends at a place I will be referring to as Shmurger King so I won’t have to worry about any legal action. I cringed a little as our children climbed into the play area but they seemed so happy I tried not to think about the possible communicable diseases slimed all over the walls and floors. I looked at my friend and said “this was a good idea” and I think that was the kiss of death for fun time at Shmurger King. After about 15 minutes of play time my conversation was interrupted when I heard my little girl’s voice yell down to me “mommy, is this poop”? I love her dearly but at two she is not the most reliable source so my friend yells up to her much more reliable four year old “Ryan, is there poop in there”? A tiny “yes” echoed down to us and my friend shot up into play equipment with impressive speed. I immediately went into panic mode (which generally consists of me frozen with fear, unable to act). I stood at the bottom waiting to hear the adult verdict on the possible poo. Upon inspection it was indeed declared poo.
I went further into panic mode, still unable to move, but now vocalizing the fact that I was freaking out and felt like I needed to vomit. After a few minutes my brain started to function again and I sprung into action. I told Lauren to get out of the play area right that second, she of course answered with a firm no, because she is two and that is her initial response to everything. Once she saw the “crazy” in mommy’s eyes she started to make her way down and I bolted up to the front counter to report the incident. My report was met with blank stares. Then the 80 year old employee looked at the only other person working and said “I can’t get in there.” The only other employee who appeared to be nearly 400lbs said “I can’t get in there either.” The Shmurger King diet is obviously not as effective as the Subway diet. After a minute of more blank staring I said “just give me the cleaning supplies and I will take care of it.” That was a bad decision. Looking back I should have just stripped Lauren naked, sprayed her with Lysol, and gone straight home to burn her clothing. Since my friend was still in the play equipment she took the supplies (I certainly did not fight her for the honor) and went back up to remove the poop while I started the sanitization process. The most amazing thing to me was that there were other mothers there with their children watching this whole scene take place and no one seemed to be bothered in the slightest that someone had climbed into the play area, dropped their pants, and left a big steaming pile of hepatitis for other children to play in. Other than my friend and I not one person was dry heaving or freaking out, they just kept right on eating. They sat there chewing on their whoppers, watching as I threw my child’s socks away and rubbed her down in berry scented hand sanitizer.
As soon as we got home I put all of our clothes into the washing machine and Lauren into a bath. Did you know Dial makes an antibacterial body wash? If I were Oprah it would probably be on my favorite things list. Anyway, when it was finally my turn to shower I flipped on some Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and ran for my bathroom. I felt a little like a rape victim, you know how in the movies they are huddled in a hot shower scrubbing and scrubbing but never feeling clean? I swear for the rest of the day I could smell poop everywhere, it’s like it soaked into my skin. I think I have PTSD from the events of this day.

I love Michael Phelps

2008-08-19T17:53:00.001-07:00

You'll get yours someday

2008-08-19T17:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I took Lauren to the mall, it has been raining for a week now and frankly I had run out of things to do. I of course had to pee while we were there so I had my friend watch Lauren while I ran to the bathroom. I walked in and saw two 12-13 year olds (16 if you are from China) admiring themselves in the mirror. I did not make eye contact, the bathroom isn't really the place for that type of thing anyway, and ran into the nearest semi-clean-ish looking stall. As I am hovering there in my stall I heard the following conversation:

Idiot Girl #1: oh my god could you imagine if my boobs were like all saggy and stuff
Both Idiot Girls: *lots of laughter*
Idiot Girl #2: eww gross you mean like Ashley's Grandma?
Both Idiot Girls: *more laughter*

Me and my saggy titties hovered there in that stall fighting back the urge to whip up my granny panties and run out there screaming "YOU JUST WAIT IDIOT GIRLS, BREAST FEED A FEW KIDS AND IT WON'T BE NEARLY AS FUNNY!" I'm kind of a non-confrontational girl though so I just stayed in my stall until they left. I didn't think my fragile self esteem could handle it if they started pointing and laughing.

White Trash

2008-07-10T18:41:00.000-07:00

I am sure that the Pickett family is the talk of the neighborhood. Between the back porch littered with crap diapers tossed haphazardly out the back door (which stay there until there is no longer a clear path out of the back door) and all of the slightly faded primary colored out door toys (covered in spider webs because it is now too hot for mommy to play outside), and my ghetto garden (I have cleverly hidden all kinds of fruits and vegetables amongst my landscaping) I’m sure there is a collection being taken up between our neighbors to purchase a fence for the Pickett family. Last night Lauren put the icing on the cake while she was outside happily playing and Michael was preparing the grill to cook our steaks. He stepped in for just a moment to grab the steaks and when he opened the door to go back outside I could hear my newly potty trained daughter yelling something about peeing in the grass. Praying she was kidding I went to the back door to investigate. She was not kidding. I saw that my child had removed her underwear (they were tossed on the ground next to her) and was squatting in the lawn taking a leak. I’m sure she thought if it was good enough for the dog it was good enough for her. I watched her finish up and go on about her business and as I am yelling at her to bring me her panties I look up and see my neighbor standing at the end of her driveway staring at us. I just smiled (ashamed and speechless) and Michael piped up with “this is our idea of potty training.” Brilliant. I am expecting to find in my mailbox a petition for our removal from the neighborhood signed by all of my classy neighbors any day now. They probably think I am running a meth lab in my kitchen to pay the mortgage on this beautiful house. Is it worth pointing out how green it is to pee outside and save a flush?

really?

2008-05-22T13:04:00.001-07:00

i can just picture it now, my house is burning all around me and i'm running for the phonebook to see who to call... great job oklahoma!

Guess what...

2008-05-13T12:24:00.001-07:00

May is pregnancy awareness month. http://pregnancyawarenessmonth.com/ This made me giggle a little. Anyone out there not aware that they are pregnant? Should we all go pee on a stick just to make sure we have nothing to be aware of? Why don't they encourage awareness of useful things like camel toe or body odor?

Quarter-life Crisis- I am Allergic to Minivans

2008-05-13T12:24:00.000-07:00

Let me begin by saying that I am not aging gracefully; I am being pulled kicking and screaming into most areas of adulthood (in fact I am opposed to almost every aspect aside from the ability to drink legally). I do not want to get old and I guess I figured that denial was enough to keep me youthful until an ill-fated shopping trip last week. I was in the Gap dressing room trying on some fun and youthful outfits when I jokingly made a comment to the male dressing room attendant about feeling old. After which he said “oh I wouldn’t put you at a day past 28.” I am 26, 26 years old. Fighting back tears I politely thanked him and left the store so I could go and cry alone in my car. I thought I was doing a good job looking even younger than my actual age by shopping in the junior’s section and listening to pop music. Apparently I just look like an aging hag desperately trying to cling to her youth by shopping in the juniors section, listening to pop music, and texting things like “OMG” or “LMAO.” This guy probably thought he would guess low in an attempt to lift my spirits which means my actual perceived age is probably closer to forty. I was faced with a pivotal choice, do I give up and switch over to a soft rock station, throw out all of my thongs and start wearing tapered jeans or do I plunge myself even further into denial and avoidance? I choose the latter dammit! I will not go down without a fight! It will take a lot more than one nasty comment to pop my denial balloon! I have convinced myself that if I grow my hair out and lose 10 pounds the stress and strain of child birth, rearing, and a few too many nights spent wrapped around a toilet will be wiped away and I can once again be “like a virgin, touched for the very first time.” I suppose I should stop referencing 80’s pop culture as well.
In addition to dropping the weight I think I have subconsciously convinced myself that dropping two doors will further enhance my youthfulness. Last night we went down to the Honda dealership to look for something to replace Michael’s gas-guzzling-ozone-hole-increasing beast of a vehicle. We went looking for a bottom of the line Civic just to get him to and from work and I left completely enamored with a two door Accord. I borrowed it all day today just to see how much trouble it would really be to get Lauren in and out of. It is actually not that bad and I have decided that my coupe is like a really great pair of heels, a little pain is worth a lot of cute!

4 sell?

2008-04-09T05:06:00.001-07:00

God I love this town and all of its simple people...

Watch out Katie Holmes "it's Hammer Time!"

2008-04-01T14:36:00.000-07:00

I have recently joined a gym hoping to discover my long lost pre-baby body. I am only certain of the reality of said pre-baby body due to one well-worn pair of microscopic jeans that I refuse to donate to a needy skinny person and a few fuzzy pictures. It’s only been a couple of months but I have not discovered anything save for an insatiable appetite and some much needed time for myself. Running on a treadmill has turned out to be a great spot for pondering. Aside from the typical “I wonder if other people are watching my fat jiggle?” “Why do they sell spandex in an XL?” and “Who farted knowing damn well I have to breathe through my nose with great enthusiasm?” I have a couple of other thoughts I wanted to share.
First of all I must give a “shout out” (isn’t that what the kids are saying these days?) to the best invention since chicken nuggets and vodka, the ipod. I am not sure how other people do it but I am absolutely convinced that my legs will not move without my ipod strapped to my body. I cannot run while watching television, I must have motivating “get sexy” music. Because of this I spend a lot of time on itunes researching “get sexy” music. I have found though that I am in need of a chaperone on these “get sexy” quests because I am easily distracted by nostalgia. I find myself slipping into the early 90’s jams and before I know it I’m clicking “buy.” Now every time M C Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This” comes on I nearly fall off my treadmill laughing. What was I thinking?
Second, my gym is loaded with old people. I really think they must run a bus from the Senior Center over to my gym. These people are not just old, they are near death. I’ve seen some that have to be strapped into the machines because they have lost function of some of their limbs. I’ll be damned if I will be in the gym during my final days on this earth. I have nothing against the elderly in general; I just find it to be pretty dispiriting. How am I supposed to think sexy thoughts and stay motivated when I am faced with my own mortality every morning? It does not make me want to stay on that treadmill. It makes me want to go grab a carton of Virginia Slims and a handle of my favorite vodka and get down to the business of enjoying the rest of my life. They have Curves for women why not a Wrinkles for those over 80?
Last but not least I have a more personal problem that is brought to light while running on treadmills that face mirrors. No matter how warmed up I am my breasts believe they are really, really cold. I do not understand why this happens to me! The first time I saw the girls standing at attention I panicked and started trying to discreetly rub them to make them go away. My friend running next to me happened to look over so I had to make a joke about how I really love running (wink, wink.) Sometimes if I am in a hurry I forget about my little problem and just stuff the girls into a sports bra and go, then I get about a mile into my workout and I realize that one is askew. There’s no way I can shove my hand down my bra to adjust so I just keep running and flash a super-excited-to-see-you smile at everyone that walks by hoping they will be so distracted by my smile they wont notice my crazy nipples. A crazy nipple is way worse than a crazy eye. Do they make a super padded sports bra? Should I strap them down with an Ace bandage? Bandaids? Does anyone else have this problem? Maybe I really do love running…
I have also noticed that getting a little in shape gives me delusions of grandeur as I start thinking (after running 3 miles) maybe I should train for a marathon. At about 3.5 miles I realize what a silly idea that is. I can just picture myself crawling across the finish line of the New York City Marathon covered in my own vomit with one nipple staring to the right and one looking up at me.

Ass Stew and Father/ Daughter Bonding

2008-02-14T18:13:00.000-08:00

Michael was kind enough to give me a break tonight (it is Valentine's Day after all) from my usual duties- not those ones perverts I can assure you that he will still be expecting "that" come hell or high water. Michael gave Lauren a bath tonight. I can be so productive when he frees up those tortuous 45 minutes of bath time for me. I was busy cleaning up the living room and trying not to think about the possible origins of the crust I was picking off of our couch when Michael excitedly summoned me to the bathroom for Lauren's new trick. Daddy teaching new tricks always makes me a little nervous but I cherish "alone time" enough to chance unsupervised interactions between the two of them. The other day I came home from an outing to find the stick people they had been coloring on her easel had breasts, I didn't even ask. Anyway, I open the door to the bathroom and Michael proudly says "look she can gargle" and I watched for a moment as my two year old showed off her newest trick. I quietly said "with bath water." My husband taught my daughter to gargle with bath water or as I like to call it, ass stew. I can't quite put my finger on what makes Michael and I so different in our parenting styles. I can only hope that the gay male couples out there adopting children have that little voice of reason that apparently straight men are born without or have rubbed out with plenty of hard living and hard liquor. That little voice that says "maybe it's not a good idea to let our child gargle with the same water her butt is soaking in, what with the whole eating poop can make you sick thing." All day I put forth so much effort with my sanitizing sprays, wipes, and gels and all of that is canceled out with five minutes of alone time with daddy.

The "B" word

2008-01-21T15:22:00.000-08:00

I hope you are all seated while you are reading this, if not, sit down- and what the hell are you doing reading standing anyway? If you’re on the treadmill you are an overachieving b*&%$ and we can no longer be friends. Beginning January 1, 2008 I was placed, involuntarily, on a (dramatic gasp with back of hand placed gently to forehead) BUDGET! What has my life come to? For the last two years I have been living the good life, hanging out with my little best friend, doing whatever we please. I try to watch my spending but sometimes I get carried away. I never dreamed that this would lead my usually loving husband to take such drastic measures. I purposely passed over potential suitors that had a high probability of being unable to afford me. Assisting a muscle bound fireman with his hose or corrupting a man of the cloth sounded exhilarating but I knew that excitement would wear off quickly after a couple of romantic ramen noodle dinners. It’s not that I need a lot of fancy things or designer clothes; I just require a lot of upkeep. Michael doesn’t understand that this “look” does not happen by accident. Michael thinks that Wal-Mart is truly one stop shopping, I do not. I’ve managed (because I am so creative) to convince him that I am severely allergic to Wal-Mart bras and panties but he may get suspicious if I claim to be allergic to Wal-Mart make-up as well. How am I supposed to convince a man who pays $7 for a haircut that his budget needs to allow $100 for mine every 6 weeks? This budget is making me crankier than dieting during my time of the month. We are each allowed $200 dollars a month to spend on whatever we please. Initially I thought this would be a piece of cake assuming there would be a separate fund for hair, makeup, eating out, shoes and clothes. I mean those aren’t things that I can help, that is just general upkeep. I was wrong. So after purchasing a dress to attend Michael’s Christmas party (which in all honesty I did not even care to attend) I barely had any money left. This is a sad state of affairs. I am being forced into caffeine withdrawals as I am unable to make my usual trips to Starbucks, I’m hungry because I cannot stomach frozen entrees or leftovers, and my roots are showing. Have pity on me. I am relatively certain this is all part of his plan to force me back into employment. I will show him though, I can tough this out. I will just have to start selling his stuff on Ebay for extra cash, perhaps then he will consider adding more categories to his budget.

Party Pooper

2007-12-01T13:57:00.000-08:00

Why Birthdays Only Happen Once a Year

I will be the first to admit that I am a person who enjoys cleanliness, organization, structure, and planning. I will also admit that I am prone to extreme stress when I am not surrounding myself with the afore mentioned items. Birthday parties as with any parties, are complete chaos. Complete chaos does not mesh well with my personality. I foolishly assumed however that with enough preplanning and enough structure I could somehow avoid chaos.

I began planning my daughter’s second birthday six months in advance. By four months out I already had all of the party favors purchased and the guest list completed. I thought the idea of a swimming party at an indoor kiddie pool was perfect. They have a party room on the property which means no mess or disorder in my home and plenty of activities to keep the children happy. I woke up today, the day of the long awaited party, at 4am feeling optimistic. With a good dose of caffeine I felt organized and in control right up until about 11am. The unraveling of the planning began with the pizza being late. That late pizza forced everything else into rush mode since we only planned for one hour in the party room and one hour in the pool. We were eating fast, singing fast, realizing I forgot candles and pretending to blow imaginary ones out fast, and finally changing into swim attire fast and running up to the pool.

Upon arriving at the kiddie pool the evil lifeguards- who I’m quite certain were just bitter old hags hardened by their own inability to bear children- informed me that all of the children needed to be rinsed (and god you know how the kids loved being hosed down in ice water) and that they were not even allowed to take their awesome party favor pool toys into the pool (more planning out the window). After prying the fun party favor pool toys out of their sad little hands and rinsing them in glacier water, they were all happily playing in the pool and I set about cleaning up the party room and taking load after load of party items and gifts to our car (in the rain). As I was coming back in to take out the last load I heard the voices of my daughter and my best friend coming down the hallway. When I rounded the corner I saw my friend carrying my child wrapped in her towel like a little baby burrito. As the words “what happened” were coming out of my mouth I was simultaneously noticing the brown stains on the towel. You could set a clock by my daughter’s bowels come rain or shine or pool or party, however, I failed to factor this into my planning. I got my mother to start hosing her off in the locker room while I ran back to the car to retrieve another swim diaper. When I got back to the locker room I followed my nose right to my child and my dear sweet mother trying desperately to get the poop off of Lauren without letting her step in it or touch it because at two, crap is still fascinating be it your own or the dog’s. So I jumped in and starting scrubbing fighting back the urge to gag and run to my nearest bottle of germex and vodka forgetting the whole ugly incident, all the while Michael was happily frolicking in the pool. I threw the towel away, it just wasn’t worth it, and I was prepared to toss the swimsuit as well had my mother not washed it out in the sink. I ran Lauren back out to the pool and went back into the locker room to try and get the larger chunks cleaned out of the shower stall. When I emerged from the locker room I looked up just in time to see my husband taking our two year old child (that cannot swim) down the ADULT waterslide. At the end of the fully enclosed dark tunnel of death I watched them both disappear UNDER the water. Frozen in terror I watched as they both surfaced unharmed but struggled to find my voice as I started in with the “what the “explicative” are you thinking” and “get your “explicative” back in the kiddie pool with my child!”

Overall I think everyone had a good time and I was able to learn the following things for next year:

1. Children are inherently not concerned with cleanliness, organization, structure, or planning.

2. No amount of planning can avert the chaos of a child’s birthday party.

3. Start drinking before the party, not just after.

Dangerous

2007-10-31T13:28:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Lauren and I met our friends for lunch at a cute little restaurant downtown. Lauren is not one of those children who can sit and color for 30 minutes waiting patiently for her food to come so we pack a small book bag full of fun activities and snacks. Her book bag has wheels on it so that she can roll it herself like an itty bitty flight attendant. This works well for both of us since I am one of those mothers who is easily embarrassed/ brought to tears by psychotic behavior in public. The restaurant is downtown so you have to park right on the street. Thankfully it is not parallel parking or I probably would have spent a good 45 minutes backing up, pulling forward, opening the door to see if I’m still 4 feet from the curb, trying to remember which blinker I am supposed to have on, backing up, pulling forward, and finally giving up and parking 10 blocks away and huffing it back to the restaurant with Lauren and her book bag in tow. Overall things went well, by the time we were ready to pay and leave I was only partially covered in soggy cheerios and bits of play-doh and my blood pressure was only slightly elevated. We headed out the door towards the car and begin walking down the sidewalk when all of the sudden I look back just in time to see Lauren and the Strawberry Shortcake book bag zip between two cars headed right for the street and on coming traffic. I raced back to grab her, screaming her name in that tone that goes beyond serious and more into hysteria. I caught up to Lauren and the book bag before they made it into the street but my blood pressure was off the charts and my underarms dripping and itching- not sure why that happens but it has to be genetic because my mother’s armpits itch when she’s scared. I scooped up Lauren and the backpack telling her how dangerous that was, cars will hurt you, you never go in the street without holding mommy’s hand, Santa doesn’t come for little children who run wild in the street, etc… I got Lauren all buckled up, looked around for traffic, and started backing up out of our parking spot, at which point I heard a terrible CRUNCH. My armpits started sweating and itching again as I checked my mirrors for children, geriatrics, and small animals. I saw no one so I figured it must have been a cup or something that some irresponsible person had left behind. I backed up a little further and saw what had made the crunch. To my horror, there, covered with the tracks of my very own tires, lay the Strawberry Shortcake rolling book bag that goes with us everywhere because Lauren loves it. I pulled forward and retrieved the busted bag. Aside from the missing wheel and tire tred it looked OK. Perhaps I was flustered from my child nearly being run over, perhaps I was subconsciously trying to make a point about how dangerous cars can be, I don’t know. I do know that anyone who runs over their child's favorite backpack with all of their little treasures inside, will not be eligible for mother of the year.

maybe next year

2007-10-26T05:23:00.000-07:00

Lauren is going to be a cheerleader for Halloween this year. She was a cheerleader last year for Halloween. I'm just trying to enjoy picking her costume for her while I still can, is that so wrong? I was super excited that this year she could could use authentic pom poms, my pom poms! I'm surprised how well they've held up over the years- I am so OLD!

You might be a bad mother if...

2007-09-10T12:23:00.000-07:00

Forget about "You might be a Redneck" I can write this book without references. For instance: you might be a bad mother if you have had to put poison control on speed dial. I am absolutely convinced that my daughter is part goat. She snarls at vegetables but will pop a handful of dirt into her mouth over and over without a second thought. This obvious lack of taste buds is what prompts me to be on the phone with the poison control center at least every other week. I actually considered giving a fake name the last time I called (something totally untraceable like Mandi Melons...)but I think they probably know my voice now. If you run into any of the following save yourself the trouble and call me, I can offer advice if your child ingests Crisco, Vaseline, silica gels (those little packs that say DO NOT EAT all over them), and after last week, Electrasol. Yep, you read that correctly, my daughter sat down for a tasty snack of dishwasher detergent which comes in neatly packaged little cubes complete with a little ball of Jet Dry. As I was busily trying to make dinner for our family and for another family who had just had a baby and Michael was reading the paper, Lauren found an unlatched child safety lock and made herself at home. Now, I'm not trying to point the finger of blame but I think it is obvious that maybe doing selfish things like reading the paper would be best after Lauren is asleep locked safely away in her crib unable to harm herself or anyone else. I mean seriously, you won't find me kicked back reading anything other than Go Dog Go while on duty. Anyway, I'm busy stirring with one hand, washing dishes with the other, opening the oven with my toes, and using my teeth to fold the laundry (that's what it felt like anyway)when I look down I see that Lauren had found and bitten off at least half of an Electrasol tablet. I quickly dropped everything, scooped her up, and started yelling at Michael as I took the sink sprayer thingy to my daughter's mouth. She was probably closer to drowning than actually being poisoned but I was not thinking rationally at that point. I passed our screaming goat child to Michael and placed yet another call to poison control half expecting them to answer "hey April, what did she eat this time?" They were kind and non-judgmental as they calmly explained that she would probably be OK. She is totally OK and maybe it is my imagination but her teeth have been looking really white and definitely spot-free.
P.S. Hey Britney call me, I'll drive over with Lauren on my lap then we can let the kids run around in the street while we get drunk and talk about your new single.

A day in the life of a ballerina...

2007-09-01T13:57:00.000-07:00

I dance.

I insist on wearing my ballerina outfit even while running errands so I can stay in "the zone."

I dance some more.

I get irritated when people try to stop me from dancing for a photo op.

I try to give back and share my knowledge with others.

I give mad props to my coach :)

Vance is Super

2007-08-15T21:57:00.001-07:00

Our commissary's marketing department really spares no expense... The next time you are thinking you aren't liking where you live call me and I can make you feel better about it.

Very NON-crafty

2007-06-14T18:22:00.000-07:00

There are some people that are just blessed with the gift of creativity and the ability to bring those creative ideas to life, I am not one of those people. I have lots of really awesome ideas but zero talent. So I am left doing projects probably best suited for a second grade art lesson. I just wanted to make Lauren this shirt with some iron on letters and one button, sounds simple right? Simply place the iron-ons onto the garment and iron. The instructions said to place something between the iron and the garment so I used a place mat. Now the under side of my place mat reads "M del." Ya, I'm an idiot.

My P.S.A.

2007-05-31T11:34:00.000-07:00

Did you know that an itchy boob can be a symptom of cancer? For whatever reason I feel like everyone should know about this! My boob (yep only one, the right one to be exact) has been itching like crazy for a while now. This of course has led to some awkward moments as you can imagine... For instance one night Michael and I were just lying in bed watching the news and he thought I was trying to proposition him when it was really just innocent itching. Anyway, I had to go to the doctor to change my birth control pills (the last ones were turning me into emotional, crazy, on the verge of a meltdown lady) so I figured I would casually mention the itchy boob thing. As it turns out an itchy boob can be one of the first symptoms of at certain kind of breast cancer (this is not the sort of thing you tell a hypochondriac). I started to panic; certain that I was dying and worried that Lauren would not remember me at all. However, after careful examination it turns out that I just have an itchy boob and my doctor probably thinks I'm a freak that gets my kicks from making up excuses to have him fondle me. Oh well.

Oh and if any of you will be traveling soon not only can you only carry on less than 2oz of liquid it now also needs to be inside of a ziploc baggie. I could have punched the security guard (dirty hooker) in the face as I watched her heartlessly toss my good bath and body works hand sanitizer into the trash. I NEEDED my germ killer, especially in a crowed place like an airport or a plane and I certainly needed it while visiting a foriegn country that has God knows what kinds of weird kooties and germs (and this is not just the hypochondriac speaking, lots of people are addicted to hand sanitizer right?). I don't understand how a ziploc baggie is going to aid in our fight against terroism. Can someone explain this to me? If it were a bomb wouldn't it go through a baggie? If it were gas or acid or something couldn't I just remove it from the protective baggie once I was on board? Is it to give the flight crew an extra second to react and mase me before I pull my sanitizer out of it's protective baggie? IDIOTS!

It's been a while

2007-05-29T05:57:00.001-07:00

what a lovely shade of blue-green water

getting used to being alone again
sailing with captain pickett
But I am just full of good excuses! First, my child requires no less than 100% of my attention 100% of the time which leaves me doing everything else necessary for the house and myself during nap time. Nap time is just never long enough and now that my little angel has moved the only ONE nap a day my free time is fleeting. In addition to the need for a shower and a clean house out weighing the need to blog we have also been out of country recently! After two long years I finally got my honeymoon! WOO-HOO! Let me just say it is not the same two years later and I am angry that no one warned me about this before I left! There were a few obvious differences between the other real honeymooners and myself. As I sat on the beach desperately soaking up as much sun as possibly (mainly because I truly believe that tan fat looks more attractive than pasty white fat) I looked around and saw their cute little bikinis barely covering their special private areas that have never had to accommodate another human being. Then I looked down at my own body which has not only participated in giving birth but looks more like a mac truck was driven over it. Instead of their taught abs I have what appears to be ground beef (which I was busy trying to tan) hiding my sexy six-pack. As I was staring at these women with 0% body fat I couldn't help but notice that after two years of marriage the P.D.A. definitely takes a nose dive. I started to get sick to my stomach watching all the "I love you the most *smooch*, no I love you the most *smooch*, etc... Go to your frickin room already. Aside from the obvious there were other differences that I wasn't expecting. It seemed like we stepped off the bus at the resort and just sort of stared at one another. This strange silence continued for a couple of days. We managed to fill that empty silence with light bickering about ridiculous things. For instance, he thought the ocean was a lovely shade of green and I believed it was a stunning shade of blue. This actually came up a couple of times until we traded sunglasses and discovered we were both right. After a day or two I realized that we really haven't had to "just talk" or be "alone" in nearly a year and a half. We didn't know what to do with each other. Why didn't anyone warn me? It took about three days to really start enjoying each other's company again and not be weirded out by it just being the two of us (no diaper bag, macaroni and cheese, screaming, bath time involving toys and splashing, diaper changes etc...) We could sit and enjoy a lengthy dinner. No more inhaling my food while exhausting every avenue to keep Lauren from making a scene. We could watch TV, real TV, NO DOODLEBOPS! We could even *gasp* enjoy an adult beverage without guilt (I always fear that the one night I get toasted Lauren will need to go to the hospital and they will think mommy's an alcoholic and start filing the necessary paperwork). Anyway, overall it was a wonderful trip (aside from the airport security in the Bahamas- more to come on this later)!

Hell is a roadtrip with a toddler

2007-03-23T20:08:00.000-07:00

Years were taken off of my life yesterday, years. We went to OKC to do the walk through with the inspectors at the house my parents just bought. I originally planned to send Michael alone. Then yesterday morning I had the worst idea of my life, why not go with? We could spend the day together as a family, Lauren could run around the empty house, maybe we could even go eat at a "real"restaurant. BAD IDEA. The two hour drive down went well enough, Lauren didn't sleep a wink but was relatively well behaved. We arrived at the house and I'm guessing that Lauren must have found and snorted some crack somewhere in this empty brand new house because from the moment her little pedipeds touched the ground she was going full speed. Lauren has learned to shriek when things aren't going her way so in an effort to keep my eardrums from bleeding I chased her in, out, and around the house... FOR 3 AND A HALF HOURS. The last half hour she just screamed. She was absolutely exhausted but somehow managed to keep herself awake (screaming) and brought me to the brink of a nervous breakdown. Finally it was over and we got back in the car and drove 30 minutes to the real estate office. Lauren slept peacefully for twenty whole minutes. I looked at her laying there so sweetly and couldn't believe how close to insanity I had been only twenty minutes earlier. We found a "real" restaurant and were able to sit and enjoy ourselves for about 5 minutes. I got indigestion from inhaling my food so we could get our adorable daughter, who appeared to be auditioning for "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" out of this nice restaurant. Lauren was not thrilled about riding in the car and was kind enough to be extremely vocal about her feelings the entire hour and a half back to Enid. Near the end of the trip Michael looked at Lauren and said with all seriousness "Lauren, when you get older and you ask me why you don't have a little brother or a little sister I'm going to be honest and tell you that it is because of you." When I finally stopped laughing I offered to make "the appointment" for him. I think after one more road trip he might make it himself.

Maui Originals

2007-02-22T09:16:00.000-08:00

I was just reading this article about local Mauians being opposed to the MTV show Maui Fever. The show sucks- I watch it on occasion (its that whole train wreck thing, I just can't look away when I run across it.) Anyway the best part of the article was the interview of a local:

"Abcde Shibao, 16, also of Lahaina, said Maui residents come across as one-dimensional in the program.

"I thought it was kind of insulting. ... They just show partying," Abcde Shibao, 16, of Lahaina told the newspaper. "But (young people are) active in school, community and sports. We do other things besides partying."

HIS NAME IS ABCDE? WTF? I'm surprised his last name wasn't Fghijk! How do you pronounce ABCDE?

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

2007-02-15T19:06:00.000-08:00

Yep that’s right, last week I was no longer able to put off that special yearly lady appointment. I don’t see why the nurse cares about making sure I get to my lady appointment; it’s not her vagina and all I wanted was a few more months of birth control. So she had me cornered and all I could do was ask for a referral so I could go off base where I could be just another vagina in the crowd. I wouldn’t run into anyone I know in the waiting room and have to explain why I was there. To me “off base” means I have anonymity. I was granted a referral to an off base doctor and I was slightly more comfortable about the whole lady appointment. Some people are totally relaxed about the lady appointment but I am not one of those people.
Let me just preface this story with this little tid bit: two days before my appointment I hosted my first social to get to know some of the wives a little better and drinking without worrying about a ride is always a plus.
So appointment day comes. I do a little yard work while trying to maintain that delicate balance between making it look pretty without making it look like I’m trying. I dropped Lauren off at a friend’s house and headed into town. I took a seat in the waiting room and nervously thumbed through a Women’s Health magazine and vowed to start my diet “tomorrow.” I hear a nurse open the door and call my name and when I look up I’m staring at Ashley, one of the wives. I’m being cool making small talk. She has me pee in a cup and write my name on it, fine. Then she leads me back to the scale and I start to sweat a little. Before even stepping foot on the scale I start spewing excuses: I ate a big lunch, these boots are really heavy, I’m chewing gum, I’m retaining water, etc… I step on the scale and I weigh even more than I thought I did, I thought to myself I must become anorexic, dieting is simply not enough. I smiled at her as I watched her write the number down on my chart and told her she was sworn to secrecy. Then I followed her to the exam room where she went over my entire personal health survey with me, which I answered very honestly thinking only the doctor himself would see it. I was wrong. Finally she leaves and I’m thinking well she seemed nice but I obviously can never hang out with her after this. The doctor came in and we talked for a few minutes then as he was leaving he told me to disrobe. I double-checked that he meant completely naked, yep, he did. He said he needed to do a breast exam as well (of course why not, lets not leave any private part untouched right?). Then he said that he and ASHLEY would be right back in. I stood there in shocked silence. It was definitely a fight or flight moment but I couldn’t figure if it would be more embarrassing to be “that wife that freaked and ran out of the office” or as just “that wife that showed me her vagina at work.” Either way I knew I never wanted to see any of the wives EVER again. I started to get undressed but also started having a panic attack so I called my mother. Still undressing I’m trying to whisper/scream what was happening, that I couldn’t breathe and I thought I was going to be sick. She said it was going to be ok, that she looks at vaginas all day and it wouldn’t be a big deal. I hung up and put on the “robe” still dangerously close to puking. I heard a knock and in came the doctor and his lovely assistant Ashley. He started with the breast exam and I desperately tried to find my “happy place” and pretend this isn’t happening. As I am scooting my bare bottom to the end of the table I’m dying a thousand deaths and no longer able to pretend this is just a bad dream.
So, I will never go to another coffee and I certainly can’t be seen in the Commissary anymore. I am trying to start a petition that bans wives from having jobs that would require you to see another wife’s privates. It’s just not right.

My thought for the day...

2007-01-29T10:20:00.000-08:00

I think that as a manufacturer you have a moral responsibility to not produce or sell the ever popular "hottie" tees in a XXL. The sight of a 200lb woman in a "hottie" "baby tee" pains me greatly. I know I am NOT skinny by any means but I am also not running through Walmart with a "anorexic" baby tee on. I feel that if you must express yourself via a T-shirt, honesty is always the best policy.

I cannot get over this...

2007-01-16T09:42:00.000-08:00

Justin Timberlake's best work ever...

Baby Grand ain't so Grand

2007-01-16T09:26:00.000-08:00

My life was forever changed on December 6, 2006. That was my daughter’s first birthday and the day the Baby Grand Piano came into my life. I was so excited to see the joy on her little face as she plinked away at the keys. Not even an hour later “Daddy” wanted to give it a try and has been playing with her toy ever since. Imagine if you can, a grown man (a fighter pilot no less), sitting down to play a baby piano. Michael is not a piano player and he cannot read music but he is determined. He sits there at the baby grand “figuring out” songs for what seems like an eternity. The process of “figuring out” a song is really what has sent me on this fast trip to crazy town. He learns songs through trial and error while singing and plunking on keys. This is a long, long, process that makes me want to cut off my own ears. You cannot truly understand my frustration without hearing it but imagine “ jin…gle… jingle… jingle bells… jingle bells… jin… gle... jingle… all … the… way… way… way…” in varying pitches and often accompanied by an “off” note. It is maddening. At first I would just sit there quietly entertaining Lauren, being a good wife, and cheering on his progress as he “figured out” many nursery rhymes and Christmas tunes. Soon however, I grew to hate many of my old favorite Christmas songs and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star could make my hair stand on end. I could feel my skin crawl just watching him sit down in front of the baby grand. I got the bright idea to buy him his own small keyboard for Christmas in hopes that he would take it to the guest bedroom, the garage, or down the street to “figure out” new songs. My plan backfired. He still sits in the playroom with his keyboard, each note setting fire to my ears, shooting my blood pressure through the roof, and tap dancing on my already frail nerves. Now as he plays I sit with a dazed look, contemplating soaking the keyboard in gasoline and happily watching it burn or running over it with my car- over and over again. The worst part is, he still plays the baby grand, which I cannot set fire to because my daughter also enjoys it. As I sat rocking Lauren in the living room last night with the sounds of amazing grace floating out of the playroom I thought, “this is it, I have reached my breaking point, I am going to have to write about this or break his fingers.” Just at that moment Michael leaned out of the playroom and with sincere excitement, burst out with “Honey, did you hear that? I just played that with my left hand without even looking.” I laughed so hard I nearly peed on myself. I guess that means I have been officially pushed over the edge. I am now considering piano lessons for Michael as an early Valentine’s gift.

My Little Lovebug

2007-01-16T06:04:00.000-08:00

ready for warmer temps!

This was before the poop incident, the rest of the pics are so cute but showing a little too much skin ;)

A hard lesson learned as a photo op quickly turned sour

2006-12-30T07:45:00.000-08:00

Last night as I was changing yet another diaper (I think I could do it in my sleep now) I decided it was close enough to her bath time, I might as well leave the diaper off and just throw her in the tub. I stripped her down to her birthday suit and then she hopped up, grabbed a blanket and started being cute. As you may have guessed, I hopped up, grabbed the camera and started shooting. I was laughing, she was laughing, we were having a good time. We were wrapping up the photo shoot and I went back to our bedroom to see if Michael could give her the bath because I had cut my finger earlier and it stung when I put it in water. He was busy painting the bathroom so I headed back to the living room trying to mentally prepare myself for the pain of soapy water in a cut that probably could have used a few stitches.
I rounded the corner into the living room I was greeted by a horrificly pugnent smell as I tried to piece together what exactly had happened in my living room or “ground zero” as I later began calling it. What is that on the floor? What is all over my childs feet and legs? Why is she smiling? I guess one of the perks of babyhood is that you go whenever the notion strikes and apparently the notion had struck my sweet little angel in the middle of the living room floor. I watched in horror as she walked towards me dragging the blanket through the mess and leaving little poopy footprints with each step she took. For once, the thought of grabbing the camera did not even cross my mind. I quickly scooped her up and started screaming for my strong-stomached husband. He started the ugly business of getting the poo off the floor and I went to get Miss Poop into the bath. Naturally the shower curtain had fallen down and was laying in the tub because I guess I didn’t have enough on my plate as it was. I had to set Miss poop down so I could throw the shower curtain out of the tub which of course led to more poopy foot prints.
Finally, I got her into the tub and started scrubbing. I thought I had scrubbed everything but I kept smelling poop. I quickly discovered that I had poop all over my forearm and I had been artfully swiping poop all over the side of the tub as I scrubbed. This being a germ freaks nightmare, I instantly had visions of hepatitus dancing in my head. After much soap and much bleach I am almost to the point that I can go into her bathroom without gagging. The moral of this story: keep any time sans diaper short and supervised... duh.

for the fam...

2006-11-29T11:37:00.001-08:00

Taking a Stroll

2006-10-27T13:33:00.000-07:00

Lauren has been taking steps and I finally caught a couple on camera!!! I am so excited and sad at the same time. All those teeth really freak me out to, she is getting so grown looking!

Businesswoman!

2006-09-29T09:52:00.000-07:00

Bring on the giant shoulder pads and the heels I am starting my home business!!! Since I have a "spending problem" that is out of proportion to my "current income" I have decided to start selling Gold Canyon! I love these candles so I thought it would be a good match. Now I just have to keep myself from spending all of my earnings on new candles!
www.mygccandles.com/pickett

Can I say eww?

2006-09-19T13:12:00.000-07:00

Lauren has got a cold, a nasty one. This leaves me wondering if it is ok that I am sort of grossed out by my own child. I love her dearly but... Her nose is on constant run mode right now and she thinks that I am trying to murder her slowly and painfully each time I try to wipe it. Yesterday morning I went to get Lauren out of bed and I immediately noticed a dime sized booger resting gently above her right eyebrow. She doesn't mind wiping her own nose all over her own face so I spend a considerable amount of my day scrubbing boogers off her face and picking them out of her hair. Her feelings get really hurt if I even let the "booger sucker" come into her line of sight. Occasionally I pin her down and do the dirty work of sucking boogers and I think to myself "it's a good thing they don't list the job description for being a mom." Can you imagine all that we do written out? People would never have children, "must be profficient at sucking boogers from small angry thing's nose etc..." Maybe they should write it all down and issue it to highschool girls with a small disclaimer at the bottom that reads "keeping your legs crossed is the best way to avoid this job" Might slow the little rabbits down. Anyway, Lauren and I are both staying "in" this week other than the occasional trip to Wal-mart because no one there cares about the snot running down her little face, they don't even give it a second glance. Apparently I look like an enormous tissue to my daughter because she never passes up a chance to swipe snot across my shoulder or whatever happens to be closest to her face (Wal-mart folks don't care about a snotty shoulder either). I guess sometimes I look like a tissue and sometimes I must look like a giant slab of beef jerkey because she has recently become interested in trying out her new teeth on my skin. No one elses, just mine. Lucky me!

Michael's Pink Undies

2006-09-14T11:37:00.000-07:00

I recently committed the ultimate laundry mistake. I’m not sure what I was thinking adding maroon place mats to a white load. I was even surprised when I looked in my washer and saw all the pink clothes; I really had to think for a minute why our white clothes were now a lovely baby pink. I called my grandmother for some much needed advice. She told me to rewash the clothes and add a little bleach. So Lauren and I ran down to Wal-Mart to pick up some bleach; I am happy to report that I have been staying away from the dollar store lately. Who knew there were so many bleach choices? I grabbed a bottle of one I’d been seeing on television lately and a bottle of the good ol’ stuff just in case the first one didn’t work as well as they claimed. I read the bottle and added a capful of the new bleach to my pink clothes. As I stood there watching the pink clothes swirl around I logically concluded that if a capful will make my clothes white then adding more must make your clothes even whiter. Then, I thought to myself, not only will Michael never know that I accidentally died his undergarments a very unmasculine shade of pink, but he will be impressed with how white I’ve made them. So I popped the lid off the regular bleach and started pouring. I’m not sure how much I ended up putting in the washing machine but the smell was quite pungent and my clothes were no longer pink, they were an even less appealing shade of yellow. I thought to myself, this bleach thing is a load of crap and called my mother to tell her not to be fooled into thinking that bleach can fix things like this. She told me I added too much bleach (who knew there could be too much?) and I could try rewashing the yellow clothes in Iron Out. So Lauren and I made another trip to Wal-Mart, this one was a little more hurried since it was getting down to crunch time and I wanted to have this fixed before Michael got home. I threw the clothes back into the washing machine and added only what the bottle of Iron Out directed. I thought the bleach smelled bad but the Iron Out was far worse. At the end of the cycle I excitedly opened the lid only to see that the clothes were now off-white. I give up! Off-white it is! I may not have gotten the problem entirely fixed but at least off-white is slightly more masculine than pink.

I'm in love!

2006-09-07T13:02:00.000-07:00

No more Robeez! I love pedipeds! www.pedipedbabyshoes.com They even have a "Lauren" shoe!
PS. amazon.com has some of the pedipeds, free shipping, $20 off if your order is $80 I think...

Dillards' new program for lowering self-worth

2006-09-06T09:30:00.000-07:00

I drug my little shopping buddy to Dillards because it is bonus time at Clinique. For whatever reason I always feel that I have to have the bonus, which usually just consists of a cute makeup bag and some tiny makeup. Fully aware that I have at least 5 or 6 of these cute makeup bags already gathering dust under my sink, I made my way up to the counter to get one more cute makeup bag filled with tiny makeup pieces that are never my color. As she is handing me my bonus she says, “make sure you tell your family and friends to come down here and get theirs.” My heart sunk as I replied “ umm, I just moved here so I don’t have any family or friends here.” How embarrassing to have to admit that sad little fact. She asked me if I worked and I told her that I was a stay at home mom. Then she said “well Dillards is always looking for new people.” I just smiled at her. I thought to myself oh sure because I’m just going to wake up one day and think to myself “self this is about enough of this stay at home and provide a loving environment to raise your child crap, you are missing your life’s calling!” Because I’m sure that like most of you my dream is to put my degree to work (that degree that was 6 years of pain, anguish and partying), working retail at Dillards. Then I can throw my daughter into daycare with a bunch of snotty nosed kids and people who probably won’t pay attention to her unless she is screaming. Right. So maybe it is sad that I have no friends or family but not sad enough to come work at Dillards, dream on lady!

P.S. for Sin City

2006-09-01T13:25:00.000-07:00

I forgot to include the lovely view from our window...

HELP

2006-09-01T08:26:00.000-07:00

My daughter loves dog food. It seems that no matter what she is doing the thought of throwing the dog food out of Bo's bowl is never far from her mind. She is drawn to it like a moth to a flame. She can busy herself until she sees an opportunity to get her little hands on some Science Diet and then she is lightening quick! Yesterday I left her happily playing with a box in the living room to go #2. I thought to myself ok there's nothing sharp or otherwise dangerous in here, she seems very content with the box, I think I can steal 2 minutes to drop the kids at the pool. I run back to the guest bathroom, leaving the door open so I can still hear her. I had just sat down when I heard the sounds of the ceramic dog food bowl scrape along the tile and then the sounds of little pellets being thrown across my kitchen. I'm in the bathroom helplessly screaming "Lauren NO! NO NO! That's BAD Lauren NO NO!" I tried to hurry but these things can only go so fast... I ran out of the bathroom with my pants still undone and found her sitting there with two little handfuls of Science Diet, dog food in the living room, dog food in the kitchen, and dog food on her pretty new dress. I would really like to be able to leave Bo's food out for him and just teach her not to get into it, can this be done? Should I give up and just put his food away and hope that I remember to take it down for him? I thought maybe if I just sat her down with the bowl outside and let her play with it to her hearts content she would grow tired of it and ignore it like the rest of her toys but my mother said that was nuts. Help!

Sin City

2006-08-31T22:20:00.000-07:00

Ahh Vegas, the land of Barbie like breasts, fanny packs, Speedos, and a few to many man-capris. The trip started out on a bad note as my parents had to pry my daughter out of my hands. I had been holding her and sobbing for at least an hour and she was getting annoyed. I had never even left her for more than an hour prior to this trip out west. I get on the plane with a constant feeling like I had forgotten something (probably be because I didn’t have a diaper bag, stroller, carryon, pack-n-play, etc.) I’m a nervous flyer anyway, add to this the hysterics involved in leaving my first-born and as you can imagine I am a total wreck. Somewhere in the process of getting to Vegas I lost my father’s cell phone which I had borrowed so I could call Lauren every 5 seconds without wasting any minutes. I flashed back to being 16 again as I called every lost and found repeating, “umm hi, I lost my dad’s cell phone.” I’m not really a Vegas kind of gal, call me crazy but, I’ve really never liked gambling, female nudity or protitution. I was amazed at what falls into the “uniform” category when it comes to being a professional cocktail waitress. Apparently they hand out the breasts with the flashy bathing suits, support hose, and heals. As I passed one on the way to breakfast at 8:30am I thanked God that I had had the opportunity to go to college (and graduate, even if it was the 6 year plan). I never ever want a job that requires shaving or waxing my bikini line, no thanks, I’ve got better things to do with my time. Things were going great, Michael showed me how to work the slot machines and I won $50. I was even thinking that maybe I might feel like doing “the deed” and then I felt a weird twinge in my nether region. I tried to ignore it, I thought maybe it was all the greasy food washed down by more alcohol than I had consumed in the last year and a half. Little did I know that this little twinge would be a defining moment of this trip, the end of my desire to get my “freak on” and the beginning of (gasp) my period. Yep, after nearly 18 months the red visitor decided to rear its ugly head on my romantic getaway. I’m still not sure if this was truly the worst one of my life or if I had just forgotten what all the red visitor brought with him. I paid $8 for a bottle of Aleve and $9 for a box of 10 cardboard encased tampons (which I absolutely loathe, why don’t I just role up a sheet of sand paper and shove it up my whowho) I felt like absolute crap and I laid in the hotel bed until it was time for the show we had already purchased tickets for. I was in no condition to be attending a show but for what we paid for those tickets I managed to rouse myself from the uncomfortable bed, wash down two more Aleve with my long island from earlier, and head out the door. In the middle of the show, being the hypochondriac that I am, I thought to myself “I must be having a miscarriage this feels like contractions not cramps.” I was sweating and uncomfortable and wanted nothing more than to slide out of my chair to the floor and curl up in a ball. I sat there suffering for what felt like an eternity watching men in tights throw men in thongs around like monkeys flinging poo. After two days of popping Aleve and Imodium like tic tacs I had managed to weather the storm just in time to head home. To cheer myself we did a little shopping just before heading to the airport. We spent just over $150 and left the bags in the cab we took to the airport. I never located my dad’s cell phone, some Indian cab driver is wearing two very expensive golf shirts and his daughter is probably wearing some really cute outfits from the baby gap, and the icing on my little cupcake… I’m back in the saddle again. I was just relieved to get home and see my baby!

The Splatter Factor

2006-08-17T13:49:00.001-07:00

Let me start at the beginning. Michael and I decided that it would be a great idea to leave San Mexico oops I mean San Antonio around 7:30pm and just drive through the night. The basis for the idea was good but the reality was a whole other thing. We figured that Lauren would sleep most of the time while I drove the car and it would be cooler so Michael’s jeep wouldn’t overheat while pulling the trailer, and there would be less traffic. The reality is I am way to old for that all-nighter shit and road tripping with Michael is way too reminiscent of road tripping with my father. Road tripping with dad consisted of very few bathroom breaks. However, when my little brother and I would start fighting, he would occasionally offer to pull over the car (this was never good, you never wanted dad to pull over the car). We would either get the offer for him to pull over or he would simply start flailing one arm behind him while keeping one hand firmly on the wheel, meanwhile my brother and I would be pinned to either side of the car being sure to stay out of the way of that flailing arm. The crazy arm isn’t the part about road tripping with Michael that reminds me of dear ol’ dad, it’s the minimal bathroom stops. Unlike my father, Michael will actually pull over but not without giving me the disappointed face. I hate that face. Michael is hardcore; I’ve even seen him pee in a big gulp cup while driving. I’m just not that talented. I need a place to squat be it a roadside port-a-potty, or a patch of grass behind a bush, I just need a place. I thought any old place would do until the night we drove from San Mexico to the great state of Oklahoma. Anyway, we started out on the open road at 7:30pm as planned and about one bottle of water and two energy drinks later, I was about to have an accident on my pretty leather seat. I radioed Michael and let him know that I “kind of had to pee a little, but I could hold it for a while if he needed me to.” I tried not to let on to the severity of the situation in hopes of avoiding the disappointed face, or in this case, the disappointed voice. Thankfully for me his check engine light came on shortly there after and I rejoiced as I realized that we were going to have to pull over, it wasn’t my fault, and I could quit holding myself and just find a place to go wherever we stopped. He stopped right on the side of the road. Not a bush, a descent sized shrub, or any kind of an obstruction anywhere in site. I couldn’t wait, I had no choice, I grabbed one of Lauren’s butt wipes and hopped out of the car. Let me just say that I am not afraid to squat in the woods, I like to hunt and fish so peeing in the woods is nothing new to me. But as I stood on the side of the road looking for a “place” I realized that the grass was knee high and it was completely dark so I had no way of scanning the chosen area for bugs or rodents. Bugs on my special places is probably one of my greatest fears so after taking careful inventory of the situation, I determined that the best place was right where I was standing, on the asphalt. While peeing outside was nothing new, peeing on asphalt and the “splatter factor” where. I yanked down my pants, butt wipe in hand, and started to go. Wearing only cute flip-flops and capris I instantly felt moisture on my feet and ankles. I couldn’t stop so I just tried to readjust midstream to no avail. I gave up and decided I was just going to have to pee on myself as I watched as little river begin to flow from between my feet. About that time I looked up to see my husband standing in front of me with his hands on his hips. I said “could you please not stare, it makes me uncomfortable.” He just stood there looking at me and finally piped up with “wow, you really had to go.” I thought to myself “no, really I am just an exhibitionist with a flair for golden showers, of course I really have to go but you staring is not helping.” In an effort to maintain harmony between us on this long night I just smiled up at him and said “yep.” I was reminded of the “splatter factor” the rest of the way to Oklahoma as I drove on through the night waiting for my flip-flops to dry and trying to decided if they were worth saving or if I should just give up and throw them away. Thankfully I saved them because the next day Michael slipped them on to run outside for a second, now it was my turn to point and laugh. I stood there giggling as I casually mentioned that those were the flip-flops I peed on.

YAY!

2006-08-17T10:48:00.000-07:00

we finally have internet again! of course while i was away about a hundred funny things happened that i need to blog about.... but i dont have time right now. lauren is having a bad day... her top two teeth are coming in and she is being a bear!!! but she is so adorable, even grumpy.

Addicted

2006-08-11T10:28:00.000-07:00

bless you hotmail people and bless you kind library people with your high speed free internet! it has been a rough few days without access to my life's blood, my constant sidekick and source of much entertainment and distraction, my computer. oh how i have missed this. the feel of the keys beneath my finger tips click clacking away, its like music to my ears! i was ok for the first two days, just minor shakes and dizzy spells but by the third day it was just like you see on tv. i was rolling around on our bed screaming cuss words and throwing up. finally 6 DAYS later my husband carried my lifeless body down here to the library and propped me up in front of a computer. i can feel the blood starting to flow again, i think ill be able to eat and im actually smiling. more to come....

Hamburglar?

2006-08-06T20:14:00.000-07:00

today i made one final trip to the dollar store (but wait, that's not the funny part). i swear i just needed steel wool to clean out our oven because we are moving AGAIN tomorrow. Anyway, I have started traveling around with the camera in my purse, in case my daughter does something adorable. we only have like 10 billion pictures so far i would hate to miss a kodak moment (little side trip here- does any one else think of cindy lauper when they hear kodak? remember that commercial with "i see your true colors shining through..." alright maybe i am nuts). so i run into the dollar store seeking wool of steel and as i passed by the soap dishes i had to stop and take a second look. were those real half-eaten hamburgers displayed with pride? yes, yes they were. it was at this point that i realized that this was another sign that i do not belong in this store. nevermind the attractive price, everytime i walk through those doors it eats a little bit of my soul. i snapped a picture because i thought it would really add to this little story...

Something new...

2006-08-03T08:21:00.000-07:00

Lauren is FINALLY crawling! YAY! Mommy was starting to get worried, alright not really but it is so hard not to get wrapped up in this comparing thing (thanks becca-jk) I swore I wouldn't compare but I do and then I find myself making excuses for her like, well she was born 3 weeks early so she should get an extra 3 weeks to do everything, maybe she just doesn't feel like it, it probably doesn't help that she has got me wrapped around her chubby little finger and her cries make my heart ache so I pick her up or hand her what she is reaching for... Anyway no more excuses (for a little while) and something new to look at Katie- sorry about the weewee.

other sea world perks

2006-07-31T20:57:00.000-07:00

two tickets to sea world: free because my husband is a hero, dinner with shamu: $65, A whale magnet, a t-shirt for miss thang, and a bottle of water $25, free beer and seeing a giant clydesdale wee wee: priceless.... and well worth the trip lol

of course mr maturity thought it was awful that i was snapping pictures in between fits of laughter. he wouldnt even stand next to me! but i just kept picturing my mother's face when i sent her this picture and i couldnt help myself!

Sea World

2006-07-31T10:08:00.000-07:00

the day started out well but quickly turned sour as lauren quickly expressed her hatred of sunsafe head coverings

even without the hat lauren was quite obviously unimpressed by the sea life

she did manage to perk up when the free beer was served, as did we!

she may not look a thing like me or share my affinity for hats but she IS mine i swear!

April's favorite things!

2006-07-28T09:36:00.000-07:00

The best postnatal workout DVD I have found, and I have quite a few! I LOVE IT! I love it because it is divided into sections that get increasingly more difficult so I can work up to the last one since I am not really in shape. Also, the first segment is only ten minutes long, the second is 15 min. You can do them with or without weights and you can even do the first one without shoes. I used to skip workouts if I didn't have a full 45 minutes to an hour to devote to them but I can usually spare 10-15 minutes even on my most busy days. I am not that coordinated so I love that it's not a bunch of crazy dance moves but at the end I am shaking everytime! I also just love Cindy Crawford's honesty. You get to see her in sweats and pjs! It just makes her a little bit more human. I ordered the dvd after I read that her trainer in this video had gained 80 lbs during her pregnancy before she gave birth to twins and managed to whip herself back into shape. I won't get specific but I also gained a pretty good amount of weight and it gave me hope! I can see the light at the end of the tunnel... now if i could just put down the chocolate I think things would go much quicker!

My all time favorite books are written by Laurie Notaro. This is her first book and probably my favorite! Great comic relief and my inspiration!!!

The Brazilian and my not-so-private private parts

2006-07-27T13:00:00.000-07:00

I had heard about Brazilian bikini waxes on television and I thought to myself, "wow, that would be a special treat for my Michael." I called up my favorite salon to see if they offered this “service.” They did and I proceeded to book myself an appointment to be waxed bare. While making the appointment the woman explained that I would need to have at least 3-4 weeks worth of growth in order to have a successful wax. My first thought was, eww, but then I thought surely it would all be worth it in the end, alright I’ll do it. Not wanting to go it alone I managed to sucker one of my good friends into getting a Brazilian as well. She wasn’t the only one I approached, but the only one that agreed to accompany me on my quest to be bald. I decided I wanted to surprise Michael so I am sure he was baffled by the animalistic look my privates had taken on but God bless his little heart he never said a word. Finally the day of the appointment came. I gathered all the courage I could, downed a couple of prescription painkillers, and headed out to the salon. I was checked in and led down to the basement. How nice, I thought; maybe no one can hear you scream down here. I had agreed to go first since it was my idea. I was ushered into a small, dimly lit room by my waxer woman. I thought to myself, is this supposed to be romantic or relaxing and doesn’t she need more light to see where to wax? Instantly I get nervous so I start babbling because that’s what I do, nonstop chatter about nothing particularly important. “Well this is nice, it sure smells good in here, those are great curtains, gosh I really hope this isn’t going to be to painful, have you been doing this for a while, is this what your aptitude tests suggested you would be good at…” She replies “ok let’s make sure you have enough growth before we get started.” Well that was fast, I knew that at some point it would come to this, but I just assumed we’d get to know each other better before I exposed my most private part. I channeled my inner strength and began my “be brave you can do it” mantra. I grabbed a hold of my pants and my panties and pulled them down just enough to expose the very tippy top of what I believed were extremely hairy privates. “Nope, that’s not enough” she said “it needs to look like this” and with that she pulled down her pants and panties. Instantly my inner mantra turns to “be mature be mature be mature” and I started having a flashback to a porn, circa 1970, I had seen at a party once. My mouth didn’t drop open but I could feel my face getting flushed as I said “oh okay I understand.” So I made another appointment and two weeks later I drug my friend back to the salon with me. This time I was feeling slightly more confident thinking I knew what to expect and I felt closer to my waxer woman after our “bonding moment.” So I undressed, hopped on the table and started talking (I was still just a little bit nervous, I’ve never been one for pain). She explained what she was going to do and went to work on my privates. She pulled the first strip and I felt pain like I had never imagined, I could feel the beginnings of tears burning in the corner of my eyes. I knew I needed to suck it up, I’m sure most people don’t cry on the table and it’s not like I could get up and leave with only one strip missing from my overgrown privates. I tried deep breathing, meditation, finding a happy place, but nothing could rescue me from the searing pain as the hair was ripped from my privates (think 40 year old virgin- ohhh Kelly Clarkson). I knew that Brazilian meant completely bare but I wasn’t expecting the amount of completeness that this woman provided. Right when I was praising the good Lord for helping me through this, thinking it was over, she says “ alright, flip over, I need you on your knees and elbows, with your legs spread.” At a near loss for words I managed to mumble, “well at least I’m pretty familiar with this pose.” She wasn’t laughing and neither was I as I felt the warm wax being spread onto parts that had never seen the light of day. Other than the obvious humiliation factor that part wasn’t even as bad as the other part. Once she was satisfied that I was completely hair-free I was allowed to redress and go back upstairs. I felt like everyone was staring at me like there was a television in the waiting room with live feed from my room downstairs. The worst part was looking my friend in the eye and telling her that “it wasn’t that bad.” The results were less than ideal to say the least. I was sore for days and even after careful exfoliation, my privates ended up covered in red dots, the exact opposite of sexy. Michael was impressed with my pain tolerance but not my privates. My advice for other first timers considering the Brazilian: don’t take the word “bare” lightly, leave all dignity at the door, and taking painkillers beforehand doesn’t even put a dent in the pain so forget about it.

2 + 2

2006-07-26T10:36:00.000-07:00

i had an epiphany. the gross butterflies are the source of my annoying bird problem (which is dangerous i might add, bird flu anyone?) the butterflies are everywhere but seem to be really thick in a tree right off of our "porch" i do not know why it did not occur to me before that this tree is serving as a yummy butterfly buffet for every bird in this state. i risked life and limb to try and capture the infestation on film...

Boycott Birdhouses!

2006-07-25T21:14:00.000-07:00

Today while I was trying to enjoy Lauren’s naptime I realized that I was having to strain to hear the man on Oprah talk about being with 25 partners while out of his mind on crystal meth (extremely captivating for some reason). He was trying to explain the whole situation to Oprah. Apparently, while high, he frequented “bath houses” where “bare backing was the norm.” This of course led to an awkward moment where sweet lil Oprah asked what bare backing was (I cringed and thought surely he wouldn’t explain that on daytime TV, but he sure did). As he explained matter-of-factly that it was anal sex with no condom the look on Oprah’s face was priceless! As I thought to myself, could this get any better??? it sounded like an entire flock of musically inclined birds had taken up residence on our 3’X4’ “porch.” I was instantly annoyed but made no move to investigate since we were in code magenta (over 95 degrees I have labeled as code magenta) and not yet to a commercial break. During code magenta I make no frivolous trips outside. In fact I make no trips outside of the air-conditioned comfort of my crummy apartment unless making a mad dash for my air-conditioned car while trying not to sweat off my prettiness (makeup). So I cranked the television volume up to 40 and tried to peek out of the sliding glass door during commercial breaks. I wish I had a red rider bb gun! I could rock their little worlds from the comfort of my $5 lawn chair (which is inside because we are rarely out of code magenta during normal sitting hours. I now know that I will never own a birdhouse. I am just not one of those types. I think that birds sound annoying (especially in large quantities) and it completely escapes me why someone would want to pay money so that they can attract the annoyingly loud, dirty things to their yard. I think my daughter is going to be screwed up unless I find someone to show her what real girliness is. I think butterflies are disgusting (another epidemic down here right now, what the hell is this place?). I run from them like they are poisonous (making a complete ass of myself and scaring my child). I have never been really into ponies and hearts. I went horseback riding once at summer camp and all I could think about was the fact that I was probably going to have to throw away my favorite pair of tapered levis because I was certain that the smell would never come out. I guess I could just learn to braid and call it good, how damaged could she be just by missing out on a few of the typical girly things?

Does this really happen to other people?

2006-07-22T20:33:00.000-07:00

I’m starting to think I have karma issues... So the other day Lauren and I are leaving the dollar store (stop laughing you snotty bitches it is one of my weird/sick/sad guilty pleasures) Lauren was in her bucket carseat thank god or she probably would not still be with us (bless her chunky little heart she's still got two pounds left in that thing). I started walking down the aisle that our car was parked in trying to enjoy the day, suck in my stomach, and not sweat while carrying my increasingly heavy child and we got hit by a car. No seriously, a bright red minivan backed into us (this is the part where I have a hard time believing that this really happens to other people). I was looking the other direction and then all of a sudden I hit something with Lauren’s bucket. I thought to myself "well that’s weird I thought I was walking in the middle where cars were not parked" then I noticed where the bucket had taken a chunk of pretty red paint right off this car and my next thought was "oh shit, am I going to get in trouble for this" (like a fun trip down memory lane, I was so bad when I was younger and certain "activities" would make me even more paranoid- call me if you want the full story) I still had not realized that it was the car that had hit us not the other way around. Still trying to figure out in my head if I should report myself or leave the scene I look in the van to see if there was anyone in it (this being the deciding factor on whether or not to flee). At this point I realized that I was in the middle of the road, there was a woman in the van, she had backed into me, and she was now hauling ass out of the parking lot. It really came in a flood like that and I had to sit in the car for a moment digesting everything. Once it was all digested and I knew Lauren was ok I was really glad that we had managed to take a chunk out of that murderous bitch's paint job. For some reason I had this picture in my head that minivan people were these cautious, mature, parents, who drove with care because of "the kids." The same people, who in my old neighborhood growing up, would stand out in their yards screaming for me to slow down as I smiled and waved my middle finger at them. This image was shattered the day Lauren and I were run over. I now see them as the enemy and I am on the constant look out for minivans and I would encourage you to do the same! Lysandra don't do it! Don't join the dark side!

above average for a moment

2006-07-17T12:27:00.000-07:00

how bad is it to lie (only by omission) to your husband to make yourself appear smarter? last night we were sitting on the couch watching television and i gave michael the remote since i get to be "remote master" all day (i figured i could relinquish control for one hour). so he stops on the world series of pop culture game show which i had already seen earlier in the day. i love this show because i truly believe that i am a "pop princess" and honest to god i really do know about 40% of the answers. so as the girl on television goes to say the answer to question one i scream it out before her, getting it right of course, having heard all of the answers earlier. i almost turned to michael to tell him that i had already seen this before but at that same moment he was saying how he couldn’t believe that i knew that answer. i am a compliment whore. i love it when he is impressed with me so much that i just sat there waiting to answer the next question. now there is a certain amount of smarts involved here because i did have to recall answers that i had only heard once but probably not as much smarts as what he was giving me credit for. the more i answered correctly the more impressed he was and the more i ate it up! i was loving it so much in fact that i ran to our bedroom during a commercial to sneak a phone call to my mother to brag on myself. she was not nearly as amused as i was. naturally, being the skilled conwoman that i am, i made sure to get one wrong here and there to make myself even more believable. he kept saying "wow honey im so impressed that you know this stuff, that is amazing, how did you know that one" etc... when i looked into those baby browns, he was looking at me like i had just found a cure for cancer and won a marathon all in the same day. i saw sheer amazement and awe cover his handsome little face and i loved it, even if it was just over useless pop culture knowledge, i never wanted to leave that moment. for that moment he was looking at me like i was above average and near genious. i would do almost anything for that look, so i still have yet to let the truth cat out of the bag. how fast would i go to hell if i never mentioned it?

fish lips

2006-07-17T06:41:00.000-07:00

please tell me this is a phase! she does it all the time. it makes me laugh so hard i can barely hold the camera still!

ps katie- those pictures of me were from when bo was a baby, long before lauren... i dont want to be accused of misrepresentation so i have included a real, unaltered, recent picture lol the only plus side to weight gain... my boobs are bigger

Mister Michael Bojangles

2006-07-15T20:47:00.000-07:00

who just goes by Bo or Bubba only if Michael is not around to hear it. For some reason me calling him Bubba bothers him. He thinks Bo is going to get confused about what his name is ;) Bo is a maltese/poodle mix. He is five whole pounds of pure muscle and brawn. He got a bad hair cut today, they wacked off his ear hair and Michael is going to freak because he looks kind of girly now. Michael is very particular about that kind of thing, he hates it when Bo wears his sweaters. Nevermind the fact that Bo is a 5lb purse dog...

my first baby!

grrrrr

it took him a long time to be able to get up and down stairs

a bad ear cut!

A series of unfortunate events

2006-07-15T20:23:00.000-07:00

I am having a bad day. Let me start this by saying that Lauren woke up at 5 AM this morning and it is 105 degrees outside. We have had the talk before about how people who get up early on Saturdays go to hell but I think she wasn’t quite able to grasp the concept. When I say Lauren got up of course I mean we got up. So that was the start and it only went down hill from there (literally). Michael is gone working (allegedly anyway) in Florida and I am here with Lauren and Bo. Bo had an appointment at the beauty shop at 9am so I played on the Internet and hung out with my little early bird until about 8:50am before I started loading everyone up. I managed to get Lauren in the car without issue and then I went back for Bo who was just finishing up leaving a comment in the grassy comment box in front of the car. It is slightly validating for me to not pick up the poo because I hate it here so much (this was the high point of my day). Every time I see the little guy all hunched up it brings a smile to my face. Anyway, there is a slight hill getting to the car and I guess the sprinklers had just been on because the grass was still wet. I picked Bo up and started down to the car. Suddenly one of my pretty black flip-flops came flying out in front of me and I tumbled down the grassy knoll dog in hand. We were both a little shook up but ok, unfortunately (this would have been a much better story if something were pulled or some blood were spilled). I yelled a few dirty words and other than some bruised pride and a sore hiney we were ok. Now I was covered in grass and mud, wearing my husbands t-shirt and his shorts with no bra and no shower but I pressed on, trying to be positive, thinking it could only go up from here. I came home showered and got dressed (meaning I took off his shorts and put on a pair of my own and threw on an ill fitting bra). I decided against makeup (and shaving my legs for that matter) since Michael was not home and the only thing on the agenda was Wal-Mart. So after I got all dolled up we headed off to Wal-Mart where I was able to shop looking like I had been hit by a Mac truck and not even get a second look. You check your pride at the door when entering Wal-Mart, what could they say? As I was pushing my cart full of my daughter and a bunch of things I never knew I needed I heard someone whistle at me. I thought to myself “ahh yes, I’ve still got it.” I turned around to smile an appreciative smile and maybe even give a little finger wave of no thanks when I realized it was just a man trying to sell some newspapers. So I do not “still have it” and I gave up hope that this day would ever get better.

Sexual Misadventure

2006-07-14T07:57:00.000-07:00

no, no pictures... you will just have to use your imagination! i am only posting this because i am absolutely certain that neither of my parents has any knowledge of this page whatsoever. so in an effort to return to my much missed prebaby body i bought carmen electra's strip aerobics (mistake number one). it is a good workout, tastefully done etc... but my advice to you would be to never buy a workout led by a bunch of women significantly more attractive than you. i like to walk away from a workout feeling good about myself. i spend an hour staring at carmen electra's big fake boobs and sexy strip tease moves then as i undress to shower i look in the mirror (mistake number two) and i just dont get that warm fuzzy. anyway back to the point, doing these workouts had given me a false sense of reality as i actually started thinking that when i "dance" i to, am sexy like miss electra. so the other night i was on the computer (lauren was sleeping for those of you about to call child services) and michael came and sat on the floor (we dont have much furniture here) next to me with his back against the wall. as i looked at him sitting there on the floor the idea pops into my head that this would be a perfect time to debut some of my "moves." (that was mistake 3 for those of you keeping track) so im really getting into my routine and i bend over to do my "bent over butt rolls" (mistake 4) still thinking in my head "damn i am being so sexy right now" as i made one last loop, the junk in my trunk, if you will, knocks michael's chin pretty hard (final mistake). this caused a chain reaction, his teeth slammed together and his head crashed into the wall with a rather loud thud. thus bringing the end of my "sexy moment" and any dream i may have ever held of one day doing a sexy striptease for my husband. sorry if i made any of you throw up a little in your mouth with my over the top honesty...

dada

2006-07-13T19:27:00.000-07:00

i managed to capture lauren saying her newest word "dada" today! she can say mama and baba as well ;)click on dada and it will take you to the video!

2006-07-13T16:31:00.000-07:00

Lauren's pretty new dress, I need a hobby... Anyway I'm already planning "Lauren's Luau" lol That will be the theme for her first birthday. Hopefully the dress will still fit. If not I'm thinking bikini and a grass skirt!

let's get physical!

2006-07-13T07:38:00.000-07:00

lauren and i went to the gym with grandma (only because she was teaching) and naturally i snapped some pics!

Orgasmic???

2006-07-13T07:07:00.000-07:00

Today I experienced what has to be one of the best feelings in the world. I’m driving down the highway doing the typical 7 mph over the speed limit (because in my head I really don’t think that this speed warrants being pulled over, I mean really what’s seven measly little mph?). I’m having a good day. The sun is shining. I skipped lunch so I’m feeling skinny (well slightly smaller than usual anyway). My favorite song is on the radio, which I am trying desperately to sing along with although I do not know the words nor do I have any kind of singing ability (which is also why I only torture my child, my little one person captive audience, with my crooning). Anyway, I’m driving along when all of a sudden I notice a state trooper on the side of the highway. Like everyone else in this situation I slam on the brakes (why don’t we just throw a sign up in our rear window that says “hey I was totally speeding”). I think to myself “oh dear Jesus, not the state troopers, I just don’t know if I can talk my way out of this one (those freakishly straight brimmed hats just scream don’t even try it). I’ve gotten pretty good with the local police but that was all before I had a child. I don’t know if the ol’ “pretty smile and a flirtatious ditzy laugh” thing works anymore when you have a car seat in the back and I’m not sure how much cleavage I could muster in one of these sexy nursing bras. So now I’m freaking out staring into my rearview mirror and bargaining with God. I see the state trooper pull onto the highway with what appeared to be a little bit of a cocky attitude and I just know that this is the end of the road for me. Apparently the idiot behind me also thought this was the end of the road for him to because we both began exiting the highway. I thought the idiot behind me was just trying to get out of Mr. State Trooper’s way. Now the three of us are all parked on the side of the highway but I notice Mr. State Trooper is making no effort to pass the idiot and that my friends, has got to be one of the best feelings in the world. To sincerely believe that your ass is on the line only to find it is the idiot behind you who is about to get it. What a release! What an incredible feeling! If I would have had a cigarette I might have sat there and smoked it while looking lovingly in my rearview mirror. I quickly pulled back onto the road before he changed his mind.

pooplosion

2006-07-11T07:52:00.000-07:00

yesterday, while i was getting her bath ready, lauren had a pooplosion, a really really big one! michael, absent of course, was out picking up our chinese food (yes im on a diet dammit and no chinese isnt really supposed to be part of it). so i lean her back to take off her diaper (in the middle of the living room) and poop squished right out of the back, alot of poop squished out of the back, im talking record breaking amounts. when i realized this i tried to scoot her over out of the puddle of poo (it followed us) and she, never one to pass up an opportunity to make things slightly more difficult, grabbed a hold of the poopy diaper and tried to fling it around. so then i am still holding her by the ankles with one hand trying to scoot her further away from the poop puddle (leaving a poop trail) and grab the soiled diaper with the other hand. by this point the amount of poop covering my beautiful daughter was beyond wiping so i just picked her up out of the poo and plopped her in the bath. so i start scrubbing and about this time i hear michael coming in. (keep in mind i didnt have a chance to clean up the living room) i wanted to warn him so i start screaming from the bathroom "honey lauren had an accident" keep in mind, in the living room floor, there is one large puddle of poo followed by a streak of poo then a large spot of poo, another streak of poo, and one last large spot of poo. he said what kind of accident? "well its in the living room" then i start hearing "oh my god oh my god what the hell oh my god how did this happen" so then i start screaming from the bathroom again "get a picture get a picture" but he just doesnt find the humor in these things nor does he see them as kodak moments like i do so he didnt take a picture he just cleaned it up... so lame! i guess i could draw out a diagram for those of you interested lol

chuck norris

2006-07-10T14:30:00.000-07:00

i dont know if i have told you about the white rock apartment karate kid (please say karate like ross if you've seen that episode of friends). this man (a full grown man) dresses up in his full karate gear (last time it was white but today it was the black pajama looking thing) and he goes outside in front of our building and kicks the hell out of some air ass.... i almost peed the first time i saw him doing this. today it was even funnier (only to me- michael just sat on the couch- probably wondering why he married someone significantly less mature than himself) it was funnier because he's out there doing his thing and im trying to look natural standing out on our balcony trying to snap a picture everytime he turned around. i wasnt able to capture a good action shot but at least i have proof!

tanning...

2006-07-09T09:16:00.000-07:00

So after reading the part in the pamphlet about the moonkiss tan making you appear 5-10lbs lighter i made an appointment to be sprayed. I was feeling anxious the night before because a friend of mine had had a bad experience (and ended up orange) but the lady at the shop assured me that their system was better and I would not look any less than gorgeous so I went ahead with it. As I followed the young skinny attractive teenager back to the spray room I whispered a small prayer that maybe she wasn't the one who would actually be doing the spraying... when we reached the room she informed me that she would be spraying me and I could go ahead and slip into the disposable bikini and she would be right back. I stood there in the small room looking at the package she had just handed me containing my disposable bikini. I immediately noticed the word "thong" on the package. I thought, dear god did the disposable bikini have to be a thong? My shame reached all new levels as she reentered the room and there I stand in all my paper thong bikini wonder... I wanted to scream out "I HAD A BABY THAT'S WHY I LOOK LIKE THIS" but I just smiled and stood there quietly. So she starts spraying and I’m just trying not to think about how she must weigh less than my right leg. We finish up and I am instructed by the young brunette Barbie to stand under the fan for 5 minutes. The bad part about their "better system" is you have to get two applications in the same day. So I head back to the salon at 6pm for a second dose of shame. i am led to the same room by the same small girl and left to don the paper thong bikini. Wonder of wonders, as I am trying to slip my post baby body into the paper thong I break the strap on the top. great... so I let little Barbie girl know when she comes back as I’m standing there just holding the top on to which she just replies "ok." for some reason I really thought they could spare another paper bikini top, guess not. So as I am being airbrushed bronze I am desperately trying to hold on to that last bit of paper bikini top dignity. However at certain points you have to hold your arms out to be sprayed... goodbye small bit of dignity as I watched the paper top float gently to the ground. I just stood there looking at Barbie salon girl wondering exactly how sad/saggy my breastfeeding boobies really look to her. I also thought about what an odd job this must be, airbrushing sad/saggy people in paper thongs all day. Anyway, I stood under the fan for 5 minutes and then gathered my things and took my tan self home.