Good Day, Regular People

And I'd Do It All Over Again

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Fri, 25 May 2012 03:13:00 +0000

Mother's Day 2012. Not that long ago.

To be celebrated for what we are and what we do is one of life's sweet moments.

And the loving care that goes into our specially chosen Mother's Day gifts ... I have been left speechless.

Especially this year, and if you stop by Aiming Low, you'll see why.

My post today, Mother's Day Recap, 2012.

Really, kids, I'm so not worthy.

xo

Because The Moth Wanted To Know

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Wed, 23 May 2012 06:17:00 +0000

I was with some big city folk last week, who were here in Milwaukee for TheMoth On The Road, a national live story telling series based out of NYC. As we sat passing the time before the show, conversation turned to asking what my plans would be for the coming weekend.

I let them know, "same as any other person's in Wisconsin."

City Mice: "So, what will you do then?"

Country Mouse: *repeating question back, in true Wisconsin style* "Me? What will I do this weekend? I'll be doing what everyone else in Wisconsin will be doing on a late May weekend: restocking the fridge with cheddar and having my rummage sale."

City Mice: "Is that like a yard sale?"

Is it like a yard sale -- how do I even be-GIN to answer that. It is so much more than like a yard sale, garage sale, tag sale, odd-n-ends sale, estate sale, flea market, swap meet.

A rummage sale is, in its most beautiful form: sociological entertainment. Call your bestie, pour the coffee, pull up two lawn chairs, and have at it with the people-watching and whispering as you identify the rummage sale types.

City Mice: "So, do you make any money?"

Country Mouse: "Do I make any money? I just shove it in an envelope. With three kids, I just want to clear my house out and once it's out of the house it's not going back in -- what I don't sell, I pack up and drive to a Goodwill donation center. No, the money is just a fringe benefit. I do it for the people that come."

How does someone explain that it's the past time of sitting in your driveway and being an expert in the art of rummageology that you look forward to.

To sit and identify the Early Bird, the Cut Throat, the Price Tag Switcher, the Hoarder, the Snubber, the Yard Sale Addict, the Cheap Mom, the Yapper, the ReSeller, the Swap Meet of His Own Coming Up, the Professional, the Casual, the Haggler, the Negotiator, the Distracter, the Nosy Neighbor, the Lean Out The Car Window Scoper, the Scout, the Nothing Smaller Than a Hundred, the Appraiser, the Trained Eye, the Five Finger Discounter, the Antiques Roadshow Hopeful; that's where the fun is.

It's all of that. And at the end of the day, being able to take everyone out for pizza with the dollars you've made after your closets have been filtered down, to talk about the woman in the black wool coat and even blacker head scarf on a 90 degree day who went crazy over your gallon size plastic bag full of baby socks, $5 for the whole bunch: priceless.

And that's how we do it, in Wisconsin. Pass the cheddar and don't look now but I think I see a Yapper coming.

"Yah, hey...I said 25 cents EACH not 25 cents ALL...cripes."

Flickr cc
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**To learn more about the amazing interesting live story telling of The Moth, click here.

When "Good Morning" Leaves You Stumped For An Answer

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Mon, 21 May 2012 02:54:00 +0000

In Wisconsin, we have this habit.

When you ask us a question, we can't answer it until we repeat it back to you first, like this:

Out-of-Towner: "Excuse me, where is the nearest restaurant?"

Wisconsinite: "The nearest restaurant? You want to know where that is?"

Don't believe me? Try it. Call any area code in Wisconsin and when the person answers, say, "I'm sorry, did I call the wrong number?"

You'll hear this back: "Did you call the wrong number?"

When all is going well in our lives, we can answer simple questions within the snap of a finger. But in some situations, like a nasty hanging-on-to-sanity-by-your-fingernails case of Post Partum Depression, just a "Good Morning! How are you?" can leave you with your mouth open, drooling, stuck for an answer.

I'm visiting Kim of All Work and No Play today, who was named a Top 25 Post Partum Depression blog, while she recuperates from surgery. She's got her hands full taking care of her two-year-old baby boy and healing. I've prepared a primer of *Quick-N-Ready* responses for those days when you can't string three words together.

Stop over at Kim's where you can clip and paste this so handy you can keep it in your diaper bag copy of "The Guide To Social Responses, For the days you’re having trouble putting three words together."

Hope to see you here.

Beautiful Kim with Chunky

xo
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Me, Molly Ringwald, Quail Eggs, and The Moth

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Thu, 17 May 2012 13:48:00 +0000

I sat next to the endearing Molly Ringwald during dinner last night, watching her eat delicate quail eggs, and listening to a table full of people who fascinated me with their love of stories, of life, of the joy of connection.

I was with them because I'm going to be part of the cast of The Moth On The Road, with their show stop here in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The show is tonight and I am walking on air.

What is The Moth?

“It is brilliant and quietly addictive” – The London Guardian

“New York’s hottest and hippest literary ticket” – The Wall Street Journal

The Moth is an acclaimed not-for-profit organization dedicated to the art and craft of storytelling. It is a celebration of both the raconteur, who breathes fire into true tales of ordinary life, and the storytelling novice, who has lived through something extraordinary and yearns to share it. At the center of each performance is, of course, the story – and The Moth’s directors work with each storyteller to find, shape and present it.

Since its launch in 1997, The Moth has presented thousands of stories, told live and without notes, to standing-room-only crowds worldwide.

Moth shows are renowned for the great range of human experience they showcase. Each show starts with a theme, and the storytellers explore it, often in unexpected ways. Since each story is true and every voice authentic, the shows dance between documentary and theater, creating a unique, intimate, and often enlightening experience for the audience.

Moth stories dissolve socio-economic barriers, expose vulnerabilities, and quietly suggest ways to overcome challenges and see with new eyes.
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This is straight from The Moth website.

I can tell you that, yes, The Moth is brilliant and addictive. I've spent hours watching the story tellers, people like you and me, on their youtube channel, mothstories. I've spent hours listening to the stories called in by regular people like us, to The Moth's pitch line.

This past November, at 1:00 a.m., I decided to call in my story, a 60 second pitch, to their site. In January of this year, The Moth emailed me asking for more background on my original pitch. In February, I said yes when they asked me if I'd like to join their cast when they bring their show to Milwaukee.

Tonight, at The Pabst Theatre, The Moth takes it show on the road, leaving NYC to bring more stories to more people. They will be hosting a two hour show of stories, the kind that you get lost in. Like when you were a kid ... riveting stories that leave you feeling like you've known the person in front of you for a lifetime.

That is the art of The Moth ... helping us see that a life is never just a life.

Tonight's theme is Past Tense, Future Perfect: Stories about Generations. Molly Ringwald is headlining. Amazing story tellers will be there with me, like Ophira Eisenberg, Anthony Giglio, Ed Gavagan, and Charles Pugh.

I am the only local.

Yes, I can't believe this is my life, and while sitting at dinner last night with these incredibly generous, supportive people, I kept thinking: I want everyone I know to pitch their story to The Moth. I want them to listen to The Moth, to watch the stories on The Moth. To find out about the people they live with on this planet.

We all need each other, and by hearing our stories ... we get to know one another a little bit better.

" The Moth has presented thousands of stories told live and without notes to audiences across the USA. Now is your chance."

Take your chance. Tell them your story. Find yourself eating quail eggs with Molly Ringwald, learning about a boy following his passion of food through Anthony Giglio, hearing about the importance of a grandmother in the life of a young boy, as only Charles Pugh can tell it.

Do it.

*The Moth's Pitch Line: click the link*

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**huge hugs of gratitude and love to The Moth's producers, who have shown me nurturing and encouragement all the way: Maggie Cino, Sarah Jenness, Meg Bowles, Catherine Burns, Kirsty Bennett. A special thank you to Joan Firestone, for her love of the human spirit.

To The Moth: Thank you, with gratitude deeper than I'd ever be able to express. Thank you.

**Tickets available through The Pabst Theatre box office.

Is There Ever A Nice Way To Say It?

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Wed, 16 May 2012 03:44:00 +0000

I love orange. Orange is one of my favorite colors. It's beautifully warm and cheerful and looks great as an accent pillow.

But there is a time and a place for orange.

And splayed across your arse isn't one of them.

How to tell your BFF that those orange capris? Just not working for her.

My post today, how not to be part of a fashion crime, at AimingLow. Where mediocre is what we strive for.

My feelings about SOPA

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Mon, 14 May 2012 05:32:00 +0000

Stole this straight from Taming Insanity, because you know my feelings on SOPA (you can read about it here)

Dear Kids: Here Are Some Things From Your Youth That I Must Confess:

-I used to mix vitamins into your oatmeal

-I lied to you when I told you that I called ahead to McDonald's and they said they were out of fries for the day

-When we planted tiny individual skittles in the backyard, and the following week we dug up huge packages of them? They really did grow from the skittles we planted, no matter what that kid across the street said

-Dear kid across the street: I have no idea what happened to your favorite frisbee

-I lied to you when I said the best movies were rated G: for GOOD, and PG meant only PRETTY GOOD

-I told you that soy ice cream is just as deliciously creamy as Ice Cream Ice Cream and you can't even tell the difference. Wrong: big difference. HUGE.

-Root beer really only comes in one color: brown (the yellow stuff your dad drinks isn't root beer)

-In the winter when it got dark out earlier, and it seemed to you like bed time came right after supper, it did (6:00, 8:00, what's a couple of hours anyway)

-When you'd ask me to go fast on the freeway and I'd turn on the fans in the car to max, those really weren't our van's turbo engines

-The wrinkles on my face aren't because I didn't drink all my juice as a kid

-Your hermit crabs didn't run away to find a mate

-Your fish didn't jump into the sink to find a mate

-Your turtle didn't crawl down the bathtub drain to find a mate

-Your frog didn't hop out the patio door to find a mate

-I didn't read the How To Care For Your Pet books for all your animals (tap water = bad)

-The boy in The Giving Tree really is nice to his mother, I have no idea what edition book everyone else was reading to their kids

**There you have it, my children: a full confession, no more lies. I'm so glad I was able to get this off my chest tonight, kids. Let's start over with a clean slate. Now hurry upstairs; now that you're older, I read you need even more sleep. 14 hours minimum recommended for ages 10 through 11.

Honest.
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Desperate for more parenting tips? Follow my weekly column, at milwaukeemoms.com.

Listen To Your Mother Today

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Sun, 13 May 2012 06:11:00 +0000

After celebrating Mother's Day with my wonderful boys and husband, I'll be heading out for what will be my annual treat: the Listen To Your Mother show in Madison, a national series of live readings by local writers created by Ann Imig. LTYM began with one show in Madison in 2010, grew to five shows in 2011, and excitingly played in ten cities in 2012. (That's in only THREE years ... are we hungry for this or what?)

And people are asking how they can bring even more Listen To Your Mother shows to their cities.

I was honored, thrilled, grateful, to be part of the 2011 Listen To Your Mother show cast. To say it changed my life is the understatement of the year.

This year, I sit back and see what it's like from the other side.

The Madison cast bios have me counting down the hours until I leave for the two hour drive there.

Believe me, you all will be hearing about today.

Love and luck to the incredible 2012 cast of Listen To Your Mother.

And, Ann Imig? Look what you've gone and done. Given us the gift of connection in this 1,000 mph world.

Listen To Your Mother: an invitation to share in each other's lives.

*If you're even anywhere close to Madison this Sunday, you can't miss this show. Live readings that leave you breathless.*tickets available at the door, show's at 3:00.

2011 Cast of Listen To Your Mother/Madison

I wish a very Happy Mother's Day to you all. xo

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Best Diet In The World

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Thu, 10 May 2012 16:57:00 +0000

Summer's coming and the shorts that look more like a belt and skirts that look more like a cut off rolled over waistband from a pair of yoga pants have hit the shelves.

And we're starting to feel the pressure to hit the gym and just say no to the eclair.

But I want a revolt. A revolt on the you-need-to-diet and you need to do it now.

Come join me, at Aiming Low, for the only pre-summer food plan I want to be on.

*since you've sworn off the KrispyKremes, could you pass it my way...

You Got Time For This

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Wed, 09 May 2012 11:00:00 +0000

Found this through my teen son .... and now want it for my ringtone, and my iPod.

Worth the 1:57 of watching. (Though it'll be on repeat 15 more times) Ear Worm of the biggest magnitude.

Oh Lord Jesus there's a faaaaarrrr...
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**Now that I've put all of you in such a toe tapping head bopping good mood, I hope you'll come visit me today at Kim Forde's place The Fordeville Diaries and yes, she's as cool as her name. Funny, snappy, clever woman. You'll love meeting her. She's celebrating her 40th, and I've sent her a birthdaygram, telling her Hush, now, it'll be all right.

Really? Promise? I'll like 40?

We've Been Found Out

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Mon, 07 May 2012 11:30:00 +0000

Somebody, after a special time together with their spouse this weekend, when they were feeling extra super close and intimate and confusing he is so my BFF with just he is my pal, confessed to their SO.

One of us out there leaned in close and whispered, "You know, honey, how when you call me from work and ask my how my day is and I say awful? Almost didn't survive. The twins just about did me in today. Can you stop on the way home and get take out?"

"Yeah?"

"Well.

Some days, it's not that bad.
Some days, it's pretty good.

My friends come over.

And we have our coffee with Bailey's.

If it's after 12:00, we'll have the opened box of Franzia's in the fridge (more affordable and better for the environment), mixed with a little Mott's apple juice. It doesn't sound good, but it really is.

One day a few weeks ago, Cindy was over with some others for our Sports Equipment Acquisition Meeting and mixed too little of the Mott's with too much of the Zin, and I didn't have time to go to the store for cheese and crackers because I had to run back here after school drop off and clean the toilets before anyone came over, so there was the wine on the empty stomach and next thing you know she freaked out -- even though she was fine -- about having to leave and pick up her kids from school.

She forgot her Xanax that morning because she was in a hurry to get here, and so with the Franzia in combination with the no Xanax and no Cheddar she spun into this full huge panic attack -- have you ever seen one of those? -- and half of us had to stay with her and talk her off the ledge, and the other half of us split up and got her kids to piano, soccer, and swim.

Even though I personally think it was just low blood sugar, we decided not to let Cindy make her own wine-apple sippers anymore.

So, some days are pretty hard.
But some days really aren't that bad."
*
Yeah and Thank you for that Miss-Gets-Weak-In-The-Knees-By-A-Little-George-Clooney-Weekend Stubble. Now the cat's out of the bag.

Which is why there are these posters up on every single street corner of the subdivision this morning:

*24/7 Party Alert*

If you hear of a party about to happen under the guise of "playdate" or "playgroup" or "book club" or "school fund raiser meeting," please call this number 26I-KNOW.

Ingestion of alcohol may be occurring.

Your call will be kept in confidence ... you may make it anonymously if you choose.

A family member will contact the homeowner, the party host and /or the appropriate responsible party without identifying the original caller.

Any of these parties under the cover of a legit activity has the potential to result in unweeded yards, garbage days being missed, frozen Encore for dinner, and unwalked dogs.

There may also be alcohol loosened lips resulting in gossip being spread that was sworn to secrecy, physical injury from ones thinking they can still dance to Flo Rida, and assault over someone outdoing another in their Bakasana crane pose.

This hotline is staffed Monday through Friday, from 9:00 - 3:00 PM.

PLEASE CALL and an appropriate chaperone will be dispatched to monitor the "Plant Sale Committee" in session.

Thank you.

*thanks and no thanks, you know who you are. We realize the flesh is weak, but still -- next time you find yourself wobbly weak in resistance to weekend time with your spouse, commit to zipping your lip first. And if you dare let in on why we actually go to Story Time [30 minutes alone, with People magazine] consider yourself alone, mixing your own Mott's Specials from now on.

Flickr via Photopin cc

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Follow my weekly Parenting Column at milwaukee moms.com : "making life a little bit easier."

A Legend In Your Kids' Minds

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Fri, 04 May 2012 02:37:00 +0000

I don't mind bragging that I am a good storyteller.

My kids will be the first to tell you that no one can embellish and polish up a story the way I do.

Since the first night my husband and I brought each of those little babies home with us in their itty bitty buckets, we've been reading aloud to them. Not just word for word like anyone-anyone-Bueller?Bueller? style, but live! tonight! It's Mama! reading The Giving Tree!

Want to know what you need in your story reading tool kit that'll conjure up memories in your kid's hearts powerful enough to have them crying at the mere sight of a bed time story book when you're dead and gone [not to put too fine a point on it...]

Pop on over to Aiming Low, where I tell you Tricks to Becoming a Legendary Storyteller.

Aiming Low, where we aim for the mediocre.

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Signs of an Impending Reaction

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Wed, 02 May 2012 22:42:00 +0000

You feel a tickle start at the end of your nose, a burning to the eyes and your mascara begins to sting, you find yourself pressing your lips together to steady the quivering.

All signs of an overwhelming rush of emotion that can open a floodgate of tears that is unstoppable and hits at 85 mph. We couldn't plan a reaction like this and if we could we'd be the highest paying acting coaches in Hollywood.

Could be that your little angel has just given you an "early Mudder's Day card, mama" like this:

or you overhear your husband talking to someone at a party, saying, "yeah, I knew I wanted to marry her after two weeks but I didn't want to scare her away."

These serendipitous moments of life that leave us feeling unworthy can come at us like a lightning bolt and at some very inopportune times.

I have a heart made of glass. And not the tempered kind, either. Despite life, my heart has remained a shatter in an instant cross to bear.

I am proud of the fact that I am a strong woman, supporting myself since age seventeen and paying my way through college. I handle life's curve balls; not with grace, but with determination to do what it takes. Yeah, it's usually with kicking and screaming, but I do what I have to do. That's how I see myself, that's how my kids describe me, that's how my husband counts on me to be.

I am their superhero.

But how can I be Trinity or Ripley or Beatrix Kiddo when I become a blubbering fool at the first sign of love from the ones closest and dearest to me?

After seventeen years of being a mother and finally figuring out the warning signs of the Hoover Dam about to burst, I have found a way to circumvent the oncoming episode of uncontrollable gasping and heaving when in the sight of adoration.

With the goal of maintaining my six foot four larger than life superhero status in my family's eyes, I've come up with a plan of attack when the love dagger threatens to pierce this liable heart:

-SKIN: I pinch my skin. Hard. The pain is usually enough to distract me and take me out of the heart rendering poignancy of the moment.

-NOSE: As soon as I feel the zing to my nose that tells me the tears aren't far behind, I squeeze the end of it, painfully, between my thumb and forefinger. Ouch. What were we going to cry about now? Can't remember, thinking too much about how tender the tip of my nose is.

-MOUTH: Pressing my lips so tightly together that my face could pass for one of those dehydrated apple old lady dolls I made in fifth grade girl scouts.

-THROAT: Obnoxious, yes. But all is fair in the arena of looking able and in control. Constant throat clearing to the point of embarrassment will keep you from doing the ugly cry, you'll be too busy chatting with all the faces turning around and offering you a Luden's.

-CHEST: Take deep, shoulder lifting breaths. Hold. Tears abated while you assure those around you that no, this isn't an asthma attack, and yes, you do have an inhaler with you should you need it.

-BIG TOE: I step on my big toe, the one on the left foot that has the ingrown toenail. I apologize for the TMI, but the trade-off is this, I see stars but at least my kids don't see tears.

-HEART: err, this one. Do what you got to do to NOT focus on this one. The central processing unit of it all. One thought of what you're feeling right here, right now, and you can throw all the tricks above out the window.

Yes, I've tried all of these quick to the rescue hysteria saving tips; sometimes they work, more often than not they don't. My children have seen me as the little lady sobbing in the last row during their school plays more than they've seen me as the six foot four glamazon able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

And that makes me the world's first five foot five and under superhero.

Image via Photopin cc

What It Takes To Make A Memory

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Tue, 01 May 2012 04:08:00 +0000

My grandmother has been gone for over 25 years now, but the small things she did for me I will never forget.

A treasured daily routine of ours lives forever in my heart, and it only took her 15 minutes a day. I reminisce about it on my monthly post, today at TikiTiki Blog: the perfect place for the treasured memories of my grandmother.

I'm Here But Not Really

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 11:47:00 +0000

Hi. It's me, Baby E, and I'm here but not really. But it is my day to blog.

For my mom's and mine Two Year Blogoversary we did a give-a-way. I gave away my time of blogging that I do on Mondays. A lot of people with kids wanted it but only one lady won it for her kids. The lady who won was Kirstin Piccini and she has a blog like my mom and me do. The name of her blog is The Kir Corner and she is the mom of two boys and it was her two boys Giovanni and Jacob that won.

I want to say to the boys that I hope you have a lot of fun here today and don't worry about what you think other people would think just write what you think because that makes the best posts.

If you're still pretty little and new and I want to say that I started out little too. You will get bigger over time so don't worry. Maybe after you do this and a lot of people will like you will go on to do regular posts just like me.

If you have questions please tell me. I will gladly help you. I hope you like blogging and will become a regular at it because it's very fun and you get to make people happy and that makes me the happiest when my mom tells me people came to my blog post today and it just lightened up their day. That makes me very happy.

Bye.

Oh, and please say hello to Giovanni and Jacob. They are four. They are twins. [I wish I had a twin a lot. That would be fun to look at someone who looks like me and play with them. Either really cool or really weird. And you wouldn't know who is copying who, me to him or him to me. But no doubt, all in all, we would be best friends.]
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Hey boys, you won something for the Empress’s blogoversary!

Gio: is it a car (toy)?

No, it’s better!

Jacob: it is Ice Cream?

Nope, you won a day to answer some questions.

Gio: Oh. I wish it was a toy.

Well this is better, because well the Empress is very cool and she is a mommy to all boys like me. You’ll answer your questions on the day her son Baby E normally writes for her.

Gio: Baby E?

Jacob: He’s a baby?

Well no, but he is her son and he’s her baby.

Gio: Like I’m your baby?

Yep, just like that. So will you answer some questions for the Empress and Baby E?

Gio: OOOOOKKAY

Jacob: I guess so, Mommy.

Ok, 1^st Question: if you were making dinner tonight what would you make?

Gio: I don’t know! Maybe something that you’d eat for breakfast. Like Lunch! (o-kay!)

Jacob: Orange Mac & Cheese (which is essentially Hamburger Helper as opposed to Yellow Mac & Cheese which is Velveeta)

2^nd question: What is the best way to keep scary things away?

Gio: Dogs! Or Elephants!

Jacob: Lions! Definitely lions!

3^rd Question: Who is funnier me (Mommy) or Grandma?

In unison and without blinking an eye: GRANDMA!!!!!! (Gee I wonder if they like her?)

Question 4: Who is faster Buzz Lightyear or Lightening McQueen?

Again in unison and pounding their feet: BUZZ!!! TO INFINITY and BEYOND!!!

Question 5: Favorite Movie?

Gio: CARS 2 with Finn McMissle, I love Finn McMissle Mommy.

Jacob: the Secret Harry Potter (the Chamber of Secrets) but I like the Goblin one too and Dobby.

Question 6: What do you love most about your brother?

Gio: *thinking about it* I like giving Jacob my cars!

Jacob: hey thanks G! I like HUGGING GIO!!!

Question 7: What’s more Fun being Superheroes or Bad Guys?

Gio: SUPER GIO!

Jacob: Bad guys!!!! (and he giggled)

Question 8: Does mommy like shoes or books better?

Gio: Books!

Jacob: Shoes. I wear your shoes sometimes Mommy!

Question 9: What’s your favorite bedtime story?

BLANK STARES….

What’s your favorite book?

Gio: I love books, we have lots of books.

Yes, Gio, I know. Which one is your favorite?

Gio: Llama Llama wakes up!

Jacob: Miss Nelson, but I don’t want to hold the book Mommy, ok?

Question 10: What would you do on your perfect day?

Gio: Play!

Jacob: *crickets*

Hey Jakey, what would do on your perfect day? Jake?

Jacob: Mommy stop asking the questions to me. I’m tired of answering you.

And with that our interview concluded.

Boys say “Thank you” to the Empress and Baby E for inviting you over.

Gio: Thank you! Mommy is she a empwess like a princess ?

Yep, exactly like a princess! She’s very cool.

Gio: are we going to her house?

Jacob: are we? Can we go to her house?

Not today, but maybe someday, today it’s just like Magic.

Jacob: Like Harry! I need my wand to get us there!

Boys just say Thank you….

Jacob: thank you Empwess and Baby E!

Gio: can I call her a princess? *I nodded* THANK YOU PRINCESS!!!

Thank you Empress and Baby E for sharing your space today, the boys and I were so honored to be able to visit you today.

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*Thank you, Gio and Jacob! Your mom is so very lucky to have you. Sounds like you have a good future in blogging. We're glad you won and we hope today was as much fun for you as it was for us!

So Why Can't I Run Away and Join The Circus?

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 06:15:00 +0000

Dear Circus Director:

Let me begin by thanking you for a most enjoyable family night out this past November when your Circus Show came to our city. My husband and I took our three children and had a fabulous time.You do a fantastic job of keeping the acts in all three rings going and I love the look of your stretchy white pants against the pressed red coattails of your frock coat; formal yet whimsical. Way to go!

With all the people I saw under your direction that night, I can tell you are a busy man. Let me get right to the point of this letter and tell you that I have decided to run away and join the circus. Your circus, as a matter of fact, as it's the only circus I'm familiar with. You also keep your travels confined to the United States, that's good. While I enjoy travel abroad as much as the next guy, I prefer to begin any circus internship on this side of the pond.

If you're shaking your head already making a premature decision thinking that this is a case of wanderlust, you would be wrong. But if you bat around the idea of mid-life crisis as a reason, you might be on to something.

You see, lately, I've been having these wonderful dreams of flying, on a trapeze, where I swing from room to room and the feeling of sailing and changing across trapeze bar to trapeze bar is so real I can hear and feel the whoosh of the wind rushing past me. After my fifth night of dreaming like this, I knew I had to contact you.

I can touch my toes, and weigh in at ~~a trim~~ 120 pounds. I can't even think about a trapeze bar without a shiver of excitement catching in my breath. I want to sail over the huge net below. I want to leap from bar to bar, heart pounding, adrenaline surging and fly until someone calls for me to let go; and I fall through the air, landing on the strong net, bouncing twice back up into the air first.

Before you tell me that there is little demand for clumsy middle aged women, let me assure you that I am turnkey talent. I could fill many roles for you. I have worked as a fortune teller, warning others that they will fall and break their necks if they don't stop jumping off that kitchen table now. I have performed magic tricks, feeding five from two chicken breasts. (slice and dice anything and you've got yourself a stir-fry)

Though not flexible, I am reliable. I can set up and tear down with the burliest of the bunch. You should have seen me at the outdoor graduation party last June when the tornado sirens went off. I have taught my sixteen year old son how to drive on the freeway, proving that I laugh in the face of danger.

I make twenty-one hour days look like a walk in the park, and am no stranger to cleaning up poop and sweeping out cages.

Am I too old for this?

Please let me be the one to answer that.

I can understand why you'd be hesitant, Sir, but all I'm asking for is a night on a low flying trapeze. I want to hang, dangle, fly, float, glide, like the woman in the Residence Inn Commercial.

If it's a matter of salary, please don't let that play into your decision: my life already consists of non paid performances throughout my day, so anything you offer will be an improvement.

I also supply my own Spandex (well, technically, it's Spanx, but who's gonna look.)

Just 30 seconds, Sir, to feel the wind through my hair. That's all I ask for.

Thank you.

Video: Residence Inn
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A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 11:00:00 +0000

How to get your little brother to behave when you're his teenage babysitter.

With this picture, of course.

My post today, at Aiming Low, When Big Brother's In Charge.

Aiming Low, where mediocre is what we shoot for.

Tricks To Beating The Shy Monster

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 06:48:00 +0000

Is it being shy? Is it being too focused on the words we use? Is it taking self consciousness and scrutinization to a level others never even think of?

I have felt shy ever since I can remember. Some studies that I've read link shyness to a source of shame or attention called to self as a child, like an over-correcting adult presence in your life. It could have been a teacher, sibling, parent, aunt, grandparent, a ridiculing childhood friend.

Being shy isn't fun. It makes you miss out on a lot of wonderful moments in life that could be created simply by extending yourself. Shyness can lead to being misread as a person. We're often judged as arrogant, aloof, disinterested, self involved, unfriendly. Boring. Not good stuff.

There are mounds of manuals and online groups, even live support groups, created for shy people. Don't laugh, even though it is funny to go to one of those meetups ... I mean, you know, no one talks there, right? I like to think of my type of people as "overly polite" and ultra concerned for others. You first. No - you first. No, after you...

In these groups and forums and online exercises, we're instructed to use a lot of positive self talk and to mentally walk right up to the edge of that potential conversation cliff and leap out into the land of the verbal.

Sounds Nike-good, right? I mean, Just do it! or, in our case, Just say it! (*note to self: order Just say it! T shirts from Zazzle - make a mint at the next Introverts R Us Conference)

Sound, good advice but still not motivating enough for me. It's much easier to keep quiet. Shy is not quiet. Quiet likes it that way. I'm an extrovert wanna-be. I wish there was an operation in Sweden I could save up my money for so I could correctly be assigned the personality I was meant to be. I searched the DSM, Fourth Ed., no such entry for Trans-personality disorder: when you feel you were born the wrong personality type.

Being a closet extrovert, you think I'd jump on all this how-to and just go for it, damn it. But, no, I stay quiet. The tried and true tricks of the trade don't do a thing to change my behavior. What has worked for me is the painful lesson of missed chances.

There was an author who spoke at the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop in Dayton, Ohio this weekend. I heard her address, and she left my eyes sparkling with tears; her message was so moving. I had seen her getting on an elevator in our hotel lobby earlier that day, having recognized her from the program descriptions. I wanted to tell her how her books moved me, but I didn't.

I didn't tell her anything. I watched her enter the elevator and the doors close behind her. I had talked myself out of approaching her, convincing myself with I'm a nobody, why would she want to talk to me.

Why did I think this? Easy. I had been brushed off at conferences by people I admire before. Taking it personally, always. I never thought beyond my hurt feelings that perhaps the author was going to be late for a train, plane, car, whatever. Or that maybe they were peopled out, tired, hungry, fatigued, up to here with strangers.

I listened to this woman's talk and promised myself I'd speak with her afterward. I waited in line to get my copy of her book signed and told her how much I enjoyed her writing and how her message today would sit warm in my heart forever. I also told her how I had seen her earlier but was too shy to speak to her. As we talked, I found out we had much in common; she was raised by her grandmother, the same as I was.

She handed me her card and writing her personal email on it, she asked, "Email me, would you? I want to know what you especially liked about my books."

I promised I would email her, and hugged her.

This memory, this new one right here, of an almost missed opportunity, is the one that from now on will be playing louder in my mind and drowning out the one that played before it; the one telling me to not risk rejection and just stay quiet.

Playing it safe gets you just that: safe.

And nothing more.

*with love to all my shy people everywhere. Go Fight Win. I love you.
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Image via Flickr cc

The Most Handsome Man in Milwaukee

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 10:00:00 +0000

Remembering the 80's.

It wasn't just about neon cut off sweatshirts, rolled down ribbed socks, or lace up granny boots ...don't be so shallow.

There was l.o.v.e. in the air ... and never was there more of an asymmetrical haircut couple more truly meant for each other than me, and the most handsome man in Milwaukee.

A true story, for 80's week at the fabulous FunnynotSlutty: where we make you laugh.

What To Tell Your Seventeen Year Old Son

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Wed, 18 Apr 2012 05:38:00 +0000

Today is my oldest son's, my first baby's, birthday.

The baby I wanted since I was five years old, no exaggeration.

When he was born, he looked up at me and his eyes were so blue that I heard myself gasp out loud.

As the nurse handed him to me, I couldn't see his face because my eyes filled with tears faster than they've ever filled before. I tried to look at him, but it was impossible; so many fat drops fell on his face that when I bent to kiss him, all I could taste was salt.

Well, he's seventeen today. His golden birthday, too. And I want to write him a letter while I still have him within five feet of me, there whenever I want him, to tell him what he means to me.

But as I try to write down something on paper for him to have from me forever, I can't see. Because, just as they did seventeen years ago, my eyes are filling with tears faster than they ever have before.

And all I can keep writing over and over is I'm so happy I still have you.

Happy Birthday, my wonderful boy. Just know that I love you. xo

True Tales of Suburban Living

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Mon, 16 Apr 2012 23:20:00 +0000

The perfectly maintained lawns, the crisp cut of a cared for juniper bush, a variegated garden timed so that something is always in bloom.

This is the idyllic that we see of suburban living.

But, and there's always a but, there's also the seamy underside to the pastoral setting:

That of LandScape Wars.

My post up today, at Aiming Low, where mediocre is what we strive for.

My Birthday Post

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 14:20:00 +0000

Baby E is posting today, and it's a special one because it's his birthday!

If you're new to Baby E's Posts, he usually posts on Mondays. You can go here to read his first post.

Thank you, as always, for listening. He is so lucky to have a place to go and all of you have made his life a bigger place, which is so important for a little guy to know. Thank you for that. _______________________________________________________________

Hi, Everyone. I haven't been here in awhile. Even though this isn't really a place, I'm still here.

I am going to have a really cool Angry Bird birthday party today. Because it's my birthday!

I am one day older than I was yesterday but I'm TEN.

I'm ten.

Two numbers now instead of just one.

I am literally itchy because I have this GIGANTIC present and it's HEAVY and so I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Luckily my birthday party is like in five minutes.

And then I have some little presents that I can obviously tell what they are.

How can you tell, Baby E?

Well, this is a secret: but by the shape and feel. Like if it's square and thin then it's probably a Nintendo game. Then if it's like round, it's a ball. Like a soccer ball. If it's circular and then flat in the back it's a Skylander. If it's small and square and tiny it's a gift card. For Starbucks! (just kidding, mom!) You can use weight as a clue, too. Seriously, mom, you have got to get better at wrapping. I can guess everything. I can see one now that I know is my 39 Clues book I wanted.

Baby E!!

When I was littler I used to want to know what my presents are but now I like not knowing. I'm different now than when I was little.

How else are you different now than when you were little, Baby E?

Well, because I'm older. And more mature because I'm older. I'm not greedy because I'm older. I'm nicer because I'm older, and not as bratty. Most of it's maturity stuff.

That's it. I like my birthday a lot.

Wait, Wait. Baby E, why do kids like their birthdays so much?

They do because of the presents and the attention especially if you have not only kids. That's why birthdays are a really good thing.

Okay, last question, Baby E: why do you think happy birthdays change when you get older?

Um ... seriously, I'm seriously done. One question, then no more. This is my answer: I think, but I already know this, you change when you get older because what you want gets more expensive like cars and stuff and then you can't have what you want. It's easy to get a kid what he wants. Just go to Target.

Also, I say I love you to my mom and dad and brothers when they get me my presents, and it sounds like I'm saying it because of getting the present but I really do love them without the present.

Bye! (Mom! I'm DONE!)

I like to pretend to be a Pirate-Dragon

P.S Even though it's my birthday, I still can't say the word stupid. So I'm going to say, "Mom, you'd have to be really not smartliness to not figure out the presents you wrapped on the table."

Bye.

P.P.S. And now my dad's making fun of me telling me that the phone call now from the Weed Man is him calling me to wish me Happy Birthday.
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*Happy Birthday, wonderful Baby E! You make us laugh, and smile, and have a good time. Today, we celebrate that you were born! Happy Birthday, sweet baby. We love you.

Avoiding Hoarders

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 14:42:00 +0000

I really don't have it too bad. My kids are pretty funny, listen to me forty percent of the time, and we have plenty to eat.

But it's that last one, the *having plenty to eat* that translates to my husband as me take good care of family.

Read how this well intentioned part of him may just have us up as the next episode of Hoarders.

Avoiding Hoarders, my post up today, at Aiming Low: where we strive for imperfection.

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April is Child Abuse and Neglect Prevention Month

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 13:10:00 +0000

Those who have come to know me, know a bit about my life.

I hint at it on my About page.

Details aren't important, but what I've learned in this last half of my life is how sharing your story can save others.

For years, I lived ashamed and kept my story to myself. The rare times I had shared about my life, those who heard it reacted with judgment and lectures.

I now tell my story as a way to have others not feel the isolation of secrecy that I had grown up with. Way into adulthood.

Life has serendipitously weaved its way into a perfect timeline for me. April is when my guest post at Letters for Lucas was slotted, where Tonya graciously allows an open letter to anyone in your life to be shared on her site.

Today, I write to all of those who were raised in Domestic Chaos. I hope you read, and I hope you never feel alone again.

Thank you, Tonya.

Letters For You

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Guide To An At Home Fun Spring Break With Kids

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 07:02:00 +0000

The kids are home for Spring Break this week, and since this is just on the heels of our D.C. trip a month ago with our Ohio trip coming up soon, the kids know we are joyfully staying home.

Sure, they could lament the fact that they and the teacher's kids were the only ones in class last Friday since everyone else hightailed it to Mexico and outta this 34 degree overcast Wisconsin weather with winds that Pooh would describe as making for a "blustery" day.

The kind of day that makes you feel like Eeyore just paid you a visit.

But with me at the helm, we will not be thinking of all the bodies we know being warmed by the hot Aztec sun. ::cue ugly Lucy cry:: As they lay on a sizzling sandy beach. A Mai Tai in hand. Served by a tall bronze stranger. (pick your fantasy) No, we will not be thinking about this.

Because the trick to having fun at home is in how you present it.

Monday we will be Treasure Hunting Day. Sure, you can quibble, some of you may call it basement cleaning. But in my mind, it's treasure hunting. You never know what you will find down in the subterranean levels.

Tuesday is Rule The World For A Day day. Yes, absolutely right that's what it is. The kids get to do whatever they want to within the square feet of this house. What could be better? Not much, my friend, I know I'd kill for a day like that.

Wednesday is Get To Know Your Family Really Well Day. Uh-huh. This exhilarating day will be spent in close face to face and highly interactive conversational one on one with each other, as we spend our time indoors today: the day severe storms have been forecast.

Thursday is Get Your Wish Day as all three boys get to play Wii and Nintendo till the cows come home. And it really will be till the cows come home. The farmer across the road from us lost a couple of steers to our backyards only a few weeks ago.

Friday is Are You Smarter Than A *sputtercough* Year Old Day as each of the three boys here take Mama on in any games of their choice. They're truly looking forward to this one since they know I only have a few more good years left in this sleep deprived brain and the sooner they beat me, the sooner they can move on.

Saturday is Let's See Who Can Sleep In The Longest Day. What a way to bring our exciting best stay at home vacation ever to a close.

Winner gets to sit in front of my S.A.D. box for 20 minutes.

Image cc

***Wondering what the heck it is that Drake is short of breath about on his new Take Care song with Rihanna? You can't fool me into thinking it's part of the music, I say it's a medical condition. Weigh in over here, my latest post on Sprocket Ink.

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The Kitchen Witch

noreply@blogger.com (The Empress) — Sat, 07 Apr 2012 14:50:00 +0000

I am always happy when I find a place where I can write about my grandmother. My abuela is at the very front of all my childhood memories. Always.

Because of blogging, I have met the most wonderful people. People who share my feelings and aspirations about life. I met Dana, the lovely food and life blogger behind The Kitchen Witch, through following one rabbit hole of the internet to another. Dana's blog is beautiful, her recipes appetite satisfying, and her posts food for my soul.

I'm guesting there today, while Dana heals from surgery, where I share a story and one of my favorite childhood recipes from my Spanish grandmother.

I hope to see you at Dana's, and my wishes to all of you for a restful week off while you enjoy the 'energy' of having your little ones home. *wink*

*Feel better soon, Dana. xo

The Kitchen Witch

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