Holy Crap I'm A Mom

Thirty Before Thirty - The Official Unveil

2012-01-08T11:40:00.003-05:00

This girl – that’s right, THIS girl (see photo above)– is about to be thirty freaking years old.
Well, twenty-nine, but I can see youth in my rear view waving at me, wearing a two-piece and a pair of big, Paris Hilton shades, carrying around a coffee from Starbucks and a twenty dollar bill. No worries, no responsibilities. Youth is carefree and capricious. Youth goes out on Friday
night and comes home Monday morning. Youth sleeps in makeup and spends $98 on a pair of jeans.

Youth has a waistline.
I’m really going to miss that bitch.
But (and let’s face it, it is ME, after all), if I’m going out, I’m going out with a big, fat bang. So, to commemorate my big 2-9 and the 365 days prior to my turning 30, I have compiled a list of the thirty things I want to do before I’m 30: my THIRTY BEFORE THIRTY. One year to complete thirty adventures: some small and silly, some big and outrageous, but every single one of them is a piece of me and a goal I can check off of my life list. Some will require the assistance of the people I love the very, very most in this life (and, duh, that’s kind of the point). Some are solitary undertakings (again,
kind of the point). All of them will be thoroughly blogged, illustrated and videoed.... Okay, well maybe not videoed, but so far Santa is deaf to my pleas for a flip camcorder so it’s not really my fault. If he comes through for me between now and March of 2013, I won’t have to tell you. You’ll see it. I’ll tape every damn thing. No sooner, no later.

Fail, South Carolina Public Education System!

2011-07-15T16:29:00.002-04:00

My local movie theater is airing a series of recorded Shakespearean plays filmed at the Globe Theater in London on a once-a-month basis. Merry Wives of Windsor was first, I believe.
"I can't wait to see that." I told Moop.
He exchanged a glance with My Nephew and they both said, "Um, you'll probably need to go see that with your English Teacher Aunt."
Oh, damn. I forgot. No one gets blown up in Merry Wives of Windsor. And there's no Megan Fox.
So, I called the theater to get the dates and show times for subsequent plays. This is a verbatim transcript of that conversation. My comments are pink, because I love pink.

Thank you for calling The Movie Theater, this is Moron.
Hey Moron, I was calling to see if you could give me the dates for the Shakespearean plays you guys are showing once a month.
Oh, right. Plays. Um..... [lots of chewing in the phone, I assume it was gum] Right, here they are. It looks like the next one is on August 1 at 7:30pm.
Great. Which play is it?
Um, Henry. Part One.
Henry the Eighth?
Just Henry. Well, Henry and an eye and a vee, but I'm not sure what that is... It looks like Part Two is at the end of August and Henry and the vee-eye-eye-eye is playing in September.
Sweetie, those are Roman numerals.
Is that like a number?
You could say that, yes.

Happy Mother's Day!

2011-05-08T09:38:00.003-04:00

If you wear your stretch marks like biker tattoos that gain you access to the coolest club in the world, TODAY IS YOUR DAY. So put your feet up, break out the ice cream and make the rest of the people in your house attend your beck and call.
I like to clap to get their attention ;)

Happy Mother's Day!

Seven and Eight, Lay Them Straight...

2011-04-22T08:28:00.004-04:00

My humble apologies for leaving you hanging yesterday. I know you were dying to know my pick for best onscreen couple.

Day Seven - Best onscreen couple
Edward and Bella?
Ron and Hermione?
Carrie and Big?
Emma Thompson and Hugh Grant in Sense and Sensibility (which is, embarrassingly enough, one of my favorite films)

Day Eight - Best Comedy Actor / Actress

John Cleese

Tina Fey.

Pick up sticks, it's MOVIE day six!

2011-04-20T07:25:00.004-04:00

Day Six - Best Fight Scene

The zero gravity affair in Inception (otherwise known as "the movie that made everyone in American feel like a moron") with the guy from Third Rock From the Sun.
Honorable Mention: the end of Super Troopers when Grady and O'Hagan throw down while "Big Bear" is playing in the background.

And, in the spirit of cinema, this is the conversation that just took place in my crib:

Me: "OMG, only two more days!"
Moo: "Until?"
Me: "The ROYAL WEDDING!"
Moo: "Jeez..."
Big: "Mama, what's a royal wedding?"
Me: "It happens when a normal girl, just like you, falls in love with a prince and they get MARRIED and she gets to be a princess. Which hardly EVER happens and it's wonderful! You could be a princess some day!"
Moo: "You sound like Walt Disney."

Movie Journey Day FIVE!

2011-04-19T07:32:00.004-04:00

Day Five - Best Car Chase Scene

I should probably say Steve McQueen in...You fill in the blank. But, I was born in 1983 and, having been born at the height of children's entertainment, I will say...

The first Transformers movie + anything related to Bumblebee = awesome

Bumblebee is my favorite Transformer. He was my favorite Transformer in 1987 and, when I saw the movie in 2009 (I think I waited for it to come out on DVD), all of the affection just came rushing back.

When the dumb girl says, "I'll drive, you shoot" after she hooks him up to the tow truck because his legs are damaged, I am not too big to admit that I got misty-eyed.
Over the summer, I agreed to let Big watch portions of the movie that did not involve gratuitous machine vs. human violence (which I know is, like, less than five minutes of the total film) and she fell just as hard for the Bee as I did.
"I weally wuv him, Mama... The Bumblebee one."

Morbid Conversations About Planter's Nuts

2011-04-18T07:49:00.005-04:00

I am fairly certain that only the best conversations between a committed man and a committed woman (just to clarify, committed to ONE ANOTHER) happen after midnight, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
"What would you do if I died?" Moo asked me Friday, as we piled in together and snuggled under a too-small comforter I got a really great deal on at Target.
It was just after one a.m. Calling that "late for us" would be an understatement, but it's nice every once in a while to feel like a kid again and giggle with friends and tell embarrassing stories on the front porch late into the evening.
"Why are you asking me this?" I hiccuped in response, but I knew the why behind it before I even asked the question.
We lost someone this week - and I use the term 'we' only in the communal, cosmic sense. In my town, in my age bracket, a parent, a productive member of society, and a victim of needless violence. It was all over the news, all over Facebook and... Well, it gives you pause, really, whether you knew him on a personal level or passed him in the checkout line at the grocery store.
Death is a real thing. A living, breathing reminder of the transient nature of our lives that lurks in corners and snatches without mercy or understanding.
"I don't know." The Mood yawned. "I just feel like we should talk about it."
He's probably right. But, you have to admit, it doesn't really come up in conversation all that much.
"Hey, did you want to see a movie tonight? And FYI - what should I do with you when you die? Do you really need a funeral?"
I rolled over onto my side and faced him in the darkness, his fighter pilot/apnea mask sucking air in and pushing it out.
"I'd have you cremated and I'd put you on the mantel."
"Is that what you want me to do with you?"
"Yeah. And I don't need a funeral. Just have a party with a keg or something, and a band." I laughed and sank down into my pillow.
"You would say that."
We settled in to silence and I let myself quietly sink off to a sleep with dreams that included laughing at My Teacher Friend who was being chased by a woman with a bag of potatoes and meeting Sean Connery on a bus in New York City.
"What do you want me to put you in?" Moo piped up, like, a full ten minutes later.
Made me wonder how much thought he was really putting into my demise...
"My ashes? I don't care. A vase or something. A nice one."
"That's weird. What if my next wife doesn't like it? She might think it's creepy."
What the-
"Well my next husband may find it equally as creepy that I'll be keeping your ass in a vase."
"You wouldn't get married again.. And I don't want to be in a vase. I want to be in a Planter's cashew can... Not an Aldi one - an actual Planter's can."
My, we're snobs in our afterlife...
"I'll try to remember that." I mumbled. "And I'm not as tied to your memory as you think I am... The minute that guy from True Blood shows up, you and your cashew can are toast."
"Fair enough. But seriously, what do you want me to put your ashes in? For real?"
Wait. Was this supposed to be a serious conversation?
I waved my arm for emphasis and said, "I don't know. Just put me in a cashew can too."
I heard the fighter pilot/apnea mask shake back and forth. "Nope. You hate cashews."
"Then put me in a Folgers can."
"You don't drink coffee. What about a wine bottle?"
"Fine. But don't cheap out on the wine."
No Aldi-brand cashew canister and no $5.99 gas station wine.
"Alright. Then what?"
I rubbed my stinging eyes and stared at the little clock on the cable box. It was now 1:15a.m. "I'm going to sleep." I told him, turning around.
"No, come one. I need to know. If you die, I put you in a wine bottle and then what?"
"You keep me until you die and then we get sprinkled somewhere together."
"Where?"
"Does it matter?"
"Um, yeah. I want to be sprinkled at the beach, but you hate the beach."
Correction - I like the beach, I love the sound of the waves, I HATE sand.
"The beach is fine." I declared, impatiently. "I'll deal with it."
I hardly think I'll have an enormous opinion about the beach, you know, being dead and all.
"Are you sure?" Moopulus questioned, reaching for my hand.
I shrugged. "Yeah. I guess it doesn't matter where we end up, as long as we end up there together."
We looked at each other.
"I love you." He told me, sounding like Darth Vadar.
"Love you back." I told him, sounding like the little guy from Oh Brother Where Art Thou - the one that knocked over the Piggly Wiggly and was forgiven when he was saved in the river. (Delmar? Was that his name?)
And then the Planter's can and the wine bottle went to sleep, for real this time, still holding hands.

Day FOUR of our cinematic journey

2011-04-18T07:42:00.002-04:00

Day Four - Favorite Actress

Pretty Woman? Mystic Pizza? Steel Magnolias? The Oceans 12 movie where she pretended to impersonate herself?
Pretty much everything except Notting Hill, which I never liked.
She's as classic as classic gets and I LOVE her.

Day THREE of my Movie Journey with you

2011-04-17T08:18:00.005-04:00

Day Three - Favorite Actor
Dum, dum, dum... Jason Isaacs.

I have a genuine affection for him stemming from his acute ability to portray villains in both The Patriot and the Harry Potter series. Plus he was the cross-dresser in Sweet November with Charlize Theron? Awesome.

And, for everyone who thought I was 'bout to say THIS GUY:

Technically it's a MOVIE challenge and, according to his IMDB biography, the breadth of his cinematic accomplishments are in Swedish so... I'm guessing he wouldn't count. Unless they institute a category in this challenge titled something like "Hottest Foreign Actor on Two Legs" or "Who Cares If He Speaks English, He Looks Like a Statue With a Pulse?" hahahahah

Day Two in the 30 Day Movie Challenge

2011-04-16T11:43:00.003-04:00

Day Two -- Least Favorite Movie Ever

Goodfellas. Consequently, it's one of Moo's favorite films and I absolutely hate it. I don't know why. I think it's Ray Liotta. It's certainly not the mafia aspect - I think The Godfather is one of the best films ever made. I know, like, every line. I just never "got it" with this movie.

30 Day Movie Challenge

2011-04-15T15:47:00.004-04:00

First off, in the interest of full disclosure, I stole this from a guy on Facebook.

Everyday, I'll post the ANSWER to the question on the Mama Lady Facebook Fan Page and the actual question (plus any ramblings, within reason) on the blog. And I totally welcome comments and your own cinematic opinions via either social media outlet. Or, hell, call me. I'm down. And I think I know each of the big 23 blog followers personally. hahahaah

Anyway, on with it.

Day One
Favorite Movie

And seriously, who DIDN'T see this coming?

It's weird, I know. But it doesn't diminish over time... Like my mother hoped it would.

It is, in my humble opinion, the best of the all-hallowed nerd trilogies. Thank you and good night.

In all fairness, I only added this one because it reminded me of my old co-workers. And who doesn't love Patrick Swayze? And that old guy who ended up in Prancer?

Sookie is Mine... And damn if my shoulder doesn't hurt

2011-04-13T08:16:00.002-04:00

To PREface my yarn, I should point out:
I am plagued with what appears to have become chronic shoulder pain. No, not a chronic pain in my ass - I've got three of those - but a nagging ache in my right blade from one side all the way over to my spine. I attribute it to a sundry of causes.

Lifting a toddler far too old to be held like a baby because I'm hoping I'll blink and she'll be a baby again, but just for, like, five minutes.
Lifting a pre-schooler because whatever Sister does she PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE needs to do.
Caulking, painting, Shop-Vaccing and all other menial construction-esque tasks I get paid to do.
Wearing a decorative elastic belt one size too small because *fingers crossed* if it fits maybe I don't have to be a largish medium anymore.
Sleeping at an awkward slant because The Mood is larger than me and weighs down his "half" of the bed, creating a cavern I sometimes slide into without realizing it.
My ever-increasing age, which somehow catches up with me only when I pass smokin' hot nineteen year olds who tell me how cute my kids are, or when window installers call me "ma'am."
Bad posture
God hates me

I have been treating the mind-numbing pain with a variety of techniques including begrudging massage from my whoosband, a heating pad, irritating Moo, Motrin, whining and, finally, low-dose muscle relaxers. The latter of which lend themselves to peculiar late-night conversation.

Saturday
Moo: "Baby, move over."
Me: "Hmdon'twanna..."
Moo: "Mama Lady, I'm serious. Move. Over. I'm exhausted."
Me: "Hmtootired...."
Moo: "Fine. I'll lay on you."
Me: "Wait! Hey, did you have a wolf dog?"
Moo: "What?"
Me: "When you were little. Did you have a wolf dog?"
Moo: "I had a Husky."
Me: "Did he eat you?"
Moo: "Doesn't appear to have, no."
Me: "They can eat you, you know....Theytakeoverthepackwhentheyreachmaturity..."
Moo: "You're slurring."
Me: "No, I'm just tired, officer."
Moo: "Been watching Fatal Attractions?"
Me: "Hmmm? Oh yeah... Did you have a wolf dog....Whenyouwerelittle...."

Sunday
Me: "I miss Bon Temps."
Moo: "Go to sleep."
Me: "I mean it... You just wait. If they ever need an extra I'm going... Like, if they write a scene where they require a chunky girl with a Cesarean scar, I'll just show up. They don't even have to pay me."
Moo: "You'd drive to Louisiana?"
Me: "You're damn right I would. I love that show [True Blood]. I love that guy."
Moo: "Would you go by yourself? Or can I go with you?"
Me: "I'd take my brother... He'd make a better vampire."

Is this REALLY newsworthy?

2011-04-04T16:02:00.001-04:00

Justin Bieber setting his mom's hair on fire on stage?

And FYI - there is something redeeming about the Lifetime channel. Unsolved Mysteries.

Shopping with Big in an undocumented (but now documented) mother-daughter adventure

2011-04-02T22:07:00.004-04:00

Act One - Home
Me: "Where would you like to go for lunch?" as I'm standing in the Playroom that doubles as my closet, stuck in my own t-shirt
Big: "Old Mac-Donald's. He has a slide... But mama?"
Me: "Yes?" muffled by a Cubs shirt over my face, one arm in the neck hole, unsuccessfully waving in the ceiling fan breeze
Big: "You will put your shirt on 'fore we go... Right?"

Act Two - Home... Five minutes later
Big: {running back into the Playroom which doubles as my closet} "Ummm... Mama?"
Me: {having had MORE THAN ENOUGH of this damn shirt} "I told you I'd put my shirt on! Give me a minute!
Big: "Good, mama. We can't show our boobies outside... But dat's not actually what I was 'bout to say."
Me: OHMYGODWHATISITWITHTHISSHIRT? "What were you about to say, Little Flower?"
Big: "I changed my mind. Chicken Flay has a better slide."
Me: "Oh. Okay, then."
Big: {looking down at the floor} "And we need to member to bring daddy some chickens... And a large fry."
Me: "Riiiighhhht.... Your idea? Or his?"
Big: "Um... Sister's." the Manipulator is quick on her feet
Me: "Sister who doesn't talk?"
Big: "Ummm..."
Little: madslfjs;aldfj;daslkjf;laskdjfl;sdjfewhensdfjad!
Moo: {shouting from the living room} "Number one, extra Polynesian sauce!"

Act 3 - Chic-Fil-A bathroom
Me: "Come in here (meaning THE STALL) with me-"
Big: "Mamuh!"
Me: "What do you want me to do? There's only one stall open!"
Big: "I don't like peeing with you!"
Me: "But you loooooovvveee me!" dancing
Big: "Oh, mamuh! Stop! People can see you!"
Me: "Am I embarrassing you?"
Big: "YESUH!"

Act 4 - Freeman's Bakery
Lady: "And what kind of cookie can I get for you, little lady?"
Big: "I don't fink I want a cookie."
Me: "What?! But you said-"
Big: "I fink... I want 'dis whole big 'ole cake right here in 'dis glass. The chocolate one. Not my birthday or anything. I just want to eat it... And not share it with Sister."

Act 5 - Food Lion, spice aisle
Big: "Bored, bored, bored, boring, boring, boring, veeerrrry boring..."
Me: "I'm trying to hurry-"
Big: "No, you're just reading. Just buy a pretty jar and move. I need a water."

Act 6 - Harris Teeter, outside
Big crawls up onto Harry the Happy Dragon and pesters me to pay the fifty cents for a... Lackluster ride on a glorified rocking chair shaped like a goofy fiberglass dinosaur. And, oh God, it SINGS. An asinine ditty about safety and being H-A-P-P-Y.
Me: "You like it?" a little TOO enthusiastically
Big: "It just rocks, mama. It's not a big deal."
Me: "Would you like to get off?"
Big: "No! You paid two quarters for 'dis!"

Act 7 - Harris Teeter, beer aisle
Big: "Oooooo! Look at all 'da beards, mama! You love beards! You drink beards everyday! Are we getting beards today?"

Act 8 - Home again, home again
Me: "Did you have fun with mama?" all laden down with packages and grocery bags while she sashays through the yard carrying just her Chicken Flay lemonade cup
Big: "I did. I got a bowl set."
Me: "A bowling set, Poo."
Big: "Can we play later? Just us best friends?"
Me: {dropping everything in my hand and squeezing my kid like an empty tube of toothpaste} "I'll eat you up I love you so."*
Big: "Ah! Mamuh! Don't love me too hard! I have to poop!"

*"I'll eat you up I love you so." is a direct quote from Where the Wild Things Are which is one of the BEST pieces of children's fiction ever to hit shelves. In honor of my mother, who read that book to me countless times, I impart that one line unto my own daughters so that they may take at least a piece of Where the Wild Things Are deep into the next generation.

A chink in my armor of frugality.

2011-03-30T08:53:00.005-04:00

I do not spoil my children.
Ask anyone. I'm seriously an oddball. I don't feel like my daughters require more pieces of clothing than I require, as a grown-up, and for the past 3 birthday parties I have specifically requested NO TOYS, as I have an abundance of them already.
Be happy with what you have - that's my parenting motto. Be happy with your hand-me-down Barbies and your consignment shoes and your Dora shirt that I bought on clearance for $1.99 because, quite frankly, there are hundreds of millions of children worldwide who would sell a kidney on the black market to have ended up with two loving parents, a roof, and a dueling set of Grandmas complete with cookies, lip balm, and dollar ice cream from McDonald's.
When they whine for toys in grocery stores or large discount chains (Target because WalMart gives me the financial willies... You go in for toothpaste and a white shirt for a daycare play and you come out $250 poorer laden with Sam's Choice Cola and shoes that will fall slam apart in three days), I calmly explain to them that presents are dispensed only when the occasion requires it. They are not an everyday occurrence. They are not a bi-monthly occurrence. They happen when they happen and no amount of high-pitched squealing, rolling on the floor, foot-stomping or repeating the term "please, please, please" will change that fact.
Be happy with what you have.
"Mama..." Big came to me in a very adult voice on Sunday morning, as I was frantically trying to find one pair of white panty hose with no holes in them for her to wear to church with my in-laws.
ONE PAIR. JESUS. ONE PAIR... I have black panty hose, and red panty hose(really? red? where did those even come from? is she moonlighting as a strawberry in a patch somewhere?), and navy blue panty hose, heavy sweater tights, heavy sweater tights with ballet shoes printed on the bottom...
AHA! ONE PAIR OF WHITE TIGHTS WITH NO HOLE. So what, they're a 2T/3T and she's a 4T.
Be happy with what you have.
"Yes, Little Flower?"
She clasps her hands together at her waist and looks down at the floor. Which really needs to be vacuumed.
She shuffles her little feet and then stares up at me, dead-pan serious.
"I would really, really like a Little Mommy Baby Doll. A pink one."
"Oh, you would? Why?" I pretend that I am not really listening, but I am, as I smoosh clothes back in drawers so they'll shut completely and my husband won't have a cow.
Have a cow... I haven't said that in a million freakin' years.
"Um, I sawed one on TV."
AHHHHH....
As a partial background, my children are slowly making the transition between Noggin / Nick Jr. and regular Nickelodeon, but only under close parental supervision. I will not stand for Sponge Bob or The Fairly Oddparents. We watch The Bubble Guppies and only via the DVR. The problem is, regular Nickelodeon airs commercials where Noggin / Nick Jr. does not. This is new territory for us.
"You saw one on TV?"
"Yeeeessss... And I really, really want one. I promise I will be berry, berry good. I will clean up and I will help Sister."
Whose four year-old talks like that? She sounds like a teenager.
Oh God.
My brain hurts. I feel like, in this moment, I'm receiving a vision as to what my future holds.
"Mom, can I get my tongue pierced?"
"Mom, can I have boys in my room?"
"Mom, can I go to Alaska for college?"
"Mom... Slash and I are moving in together. I'm very mature for my age."

I start to tunnel out.
Please don't let her move in with Slash. Please don't let her move in with Slash...
"Mama?"
"Yes, Little Flower?" I look down at her. Whew. Still four.
"The Little Mommy Baby Doll... Can I get one?"
I shrug, because I am shaking, and straighten her loft bed and try to hide the fact that I'm seriously having a parental moment because I've just seen her bouncing out of the house in a tube top and mini skirt to hop on the back of some loser's motorcycle and ride off into the minimum wage sunset.
Why? Why did I have daughters? Why aren't my husband's sperm faster? Fast swimmers make BOYS. Boys get to BE the Slash.
Big crosses the distance between us and wraps herself around my thigh, squeezing me until I feel like my circulation is compromised and may never recover.
"I love you, Mama." She tells me in her tiny, manipulative, four year-old voice. "You're my best friend."
So, okay, it worked. Her stupid trick worked. I caved. I melted like an iceberg in a South Carolina July.
I bought the fucking doll. Sue me.

Five things I can currently OBSESSED with.

2011-03-30T08:18:00.005-04:00

Yo.
It has come to my attention, recently, that there are a handful of things I simply cannot live without in our current socio-cultural climate.
More specifically, I have heard, "You're freakin' obsessed." in regards to certain, shall we say, invaluable products.
There are five, to be exact.

I am absolutely in LOVE with Burt's Bees Milk & Honey Body Lotion. I smell like a homemade breakfast. Or a plantation princess. Or something that smells SUPER good. And the smell stays with you long after the shock of paying $9.99 for a small tube of lotion will. But hey, it happens to be on sale at the Target RIGHT NOW.

All-natural body soap from this guy. Harvest Moon Soap Works. It's phenomenal. I now own way more than I will ever use in scents like Christmas Tree, coffee (which smells like chocolate and has built-in exfoliators), Barn Apple and... Something that's pink. There's very little of the pink left as it's PINK and nothing pink lasts long in a house filled with tiny uteri (that's the plural of UTERUS). He also makes a wicked Brown Sugar Body Scrub that leaves you smelling like an old lady's kitchen at Easter.

Don't judge me. I'd rather watch a dorky polygamist somehow manage to convince not just one but THREE women to marry him (honest to god, his jokes are so awful I can't stop watching -- "She's his sister, from the same mister, but he's a brother from another mother.") than piss away my time fist-pumping or seeing grown women in New Jersey overturn tables in a restaurant. Really, America? Is that how you want to spend your time? No wonder the Chinese are beating at, like, EVERYTHING. Except Democracy. And, you know, teen pregnancy.

My "Junkin'" treasure painting. Although the response on Facebook has been... Shall we say, lukewarm, I love him. I named him Harry and he reminds me of a dirty, seventies swinger party. Or an African safari. Or a macrame plant holder hanging over a wicker couch.
Anyway, I think it's awesome and my scones ARE NOT DATED.
And, last but certainly not least, GMA Weather Correspondent Sam "The Man" Champion. I think he's adorable. I love his jokes, I love his laugh, and I love the fact that even when he's stationed in the freakin' jungle he looks like the model from a Land's End catalog.

Cell SuNdAy

2011-03-28T19:51:00.005-04:00

The world's most UNATTRACTIVE harem-style pajama pants. Sue me, they were $5 and I am in love with them.

What happens when you put blue popsicles in a blue margarita - INSTANT ICE!

The best television series on the face of the planet.

Cheapy Cheapy Cheapy-Pants

2011-03-26T10:19:00.005-04:00

I love children's consignment sales.
No, really. I mean I LOVE them. I wouldn't actually be able to clothe these children if frugality had not necessitated the implementation of such programs.
And, when you think about it, WHY do you really pay full-price for clothing for any human being under the age of, like, twenty? Kids are messy, kids have no respect for whatever over-priced brand you put them in, kids spill, kids roll in dirt, and kids GGRRROOOWWW fourteen inches everyday. Thus, spending (and I'm serious when I say this) more than $3 per item of clothing is asinine.
Three dollars is my consignment price point for separates. Dresses I'll pay a little more for (usually in the $5 to $11 range) because ONE) dresses get less use in my house than denim shorts, jeans, and sensible tops and TWO) I have two daughters who will, in theory, wear said dresses assuming they stay in presentable condition. The same applies to shoes. Unless they're flops and then my price point drops to $1.
Although, I stumbled on a bit of luck Wednesday at Tot Trade in Columbia and I found the holy grail of consignment flops - Rainbows. IN A TODDLER SIZE 9. So I paid the astronomical $11 for shoes a good friend of mine paid over $45 for not three years ago. HAHAHAAHAHAH That's my maniacal consignment laugh.

Toddler size 4T/5T/5 dresses -- ALL OF THESE DRESSES WERE $5 AND UNDER

My basket of Toddler 4T/5T/5 separates - none of which exceeded my $3/each price point.

Toddler size 9-10-11 shoes, all of which were $5 and under (and the wedges are BRAND NEW)

My holy grail - RAINBOWS. One of the most expensive pieces at $11.

Not to be outdone, Little's personal horde - total tally came in at the much lower price point of $2/each for separates and $3 for Carter's brand rompers (which I love)

Toddler sizes 4-5-6 shoes, two pairs of which were brand new with tags, all for roughly $3 a pair

Little, who doesn't want you to forget that she exists and tried to interfere with EVERY PICTURE I JUST TOOK.

Brands Purchased:
Carter's
Osh Kosh
Baby Gap
Old Navy
Arizona
Puma
Bonnie Belle
Rainbow
Stride Rite
Circo
Genuine Kids
Garanimals
Jumping Beans
The Children's Place
Crazy 8
Cherokee
Izod
Tommy Hilfiger
Faded Glory (which I realize is WalMart, but who gives a crap when it's 3 shirts for $2?)
Nickelodeon
one weird-ass boutique brand I've never heard of but my friend, the boutique whore assures me is legit

Items Purchased:
141 pieces of clothing and shoeage
2 bags of My Little Pony toys
1 set of Dora the Explorer sheets
1 Disney Princess alarm clock

Total Spent:
The low three digits. As in, MUCH LESS THAN A TRIP TO SEA WORLD.

I am so OVER this day

2011-03-25T15:43:00.004-04:00

No, seriously. That's all I wanted to say.
Friday, March 25, 2011, I'm over you. Do what you will with me, but I want to break up. We're through. I thought about it this morning, at four a.m., when I was up taking Big to the bathroom for the second time because her stomach was upset. I thought about it again when I wanted cream cheese on my blueberry bagel and we were out.. But I decided to trudge through it. And really, is that even a healthy way to be? Should we just "trudge through" our relationship?
I want you to be happy. And I'm sure somewhere, in some town, there is one person having the BEST. DAY. EVER. Why not focus on that person for a while and stop tormenting me?
I could deal with the personal conflicts, I really could. But sending that police lady - who I knew, thank you very much (AWKWARD) - to pull me over for doing 30 in a 25 while I was wearing no makeup and looked like a homeless bum? That was below the belt, March 25... Even for you.
"License, registration and proof of insurance please." Like we need to stand on formality when we both actually know each other, like, out in the real world.
I fumbled in my glove box. "I know the insurance card's in here. It's got to be. My stupid husband always puts them in here..."
Was it in there, March 25?
Of course not.
Icing on the cake. Or, should I say, the 'turd pile' that is this day.
So. Let's not do that horrible thing where it's tense and weird between us. Let's just amicably part ways. You follow your path and I'll follow mine. Don't worry about returning my CD's or, in this case, my dignity. Keep them as reminders of our time together. It may not always have been wonderful, but there was that highlight there, sitting on the floor in someone's bathroom, working on QuickBooks like old times...
No, don't cry. None of that now.
Take care of yourself, March 25.
It's not you, it's me.

Sincerely,

ML

Not Nice

2011-03-24T20:01:00.002-04:00

I've been obsessing over Little's speech patterns recently. Well, that's not entirely true. I've been obsessing over her LACK of speech patterns recently.
I totally did that cardinal thing that mom's should never ever do: I found myself comparing her to other toddlers, wondering why she wasn't making cow noises like the kids in the videos on Facebook or telling me witty anecdotes or, you know, voicing her opinion about plot development in Water for Elephants or something equally spectacular.
Back off, I have high standards. Someone's got to. We live in a society where failure is accepted, as long as you have an iPhone.
"Poo Bear, say MAMA." I tell her, just an hour ago, holding her to me and putting my face right into her face.
She hates that. She's a porcupine, like me. There are sweet, wonderful moments when she wants physical affection and love. The other 98.7% of her life she prefers to be left alone and if you lean in for a hug, she kicks you.
While she refuses to talk, she has become very adept at anticipating the precursors to failed hug attempts. I'm hoping to parlay that insane ability to interpret minute changes in body language into a successful career as a professional gambler. I was very inspired by The Hangover.
Anyway, there we are, uncomfortably hugging one another - me like a crocodile in the death roll, Little like a python you can't feasibly hold on to.
"What about SISTER? Can you say SISTER?"
She points to Big, who watches us, warily, from the other side of the bed, obviously concerned that my crazy is contagious.
"DADDY? Poo Bear, can you say DADDY."
She makes a tiny fist and hits me.
"Not nice." I tell her, sternly, wagging my finger in her pouty face. "It's not nice to hit Mama. Mama loves you."
Mama just wants you to SAY SOMETHING. Anything will do. Say a curse word. Say turd. Rap the lyrics to 'Black and Yellow'.
What's that scene in The Patriot? Where the kid who doesn't talk runs over the sand dunes screaming, "Don't leave, Daddy. I'll say anything you want, just don't leave!" I have visions of this happening, on a much smaller scale, in my own damn house.
Little? Not so much. At this point, I've given up hope that she'll ever say anything other than something that sounds like "Go, Go, Go" / "No, No, No" / "Wow, Wow, Wow."
She hits me again, because she is stubborn. That must come from Moopsicle.
Defeated, I turn her lose and lean back against the pillows of my bed, rubbing my temples. I swat at her behind as she uses me like a human bridge and knees me in the uterus.
Then, clear as a mother-fucking bell, she sits down on her butt and levels a hardass gaze on me. Not a "Hillary Clinton"-type gaze. A completely legit "Hell's Angels" / "I'm about to commit a felony" - type gaze. And, God help me, I shiver.
"NOT NICE." She says, and swats back at me. "NOT. NICE."

Airing my public grievances

2011-03-24T18:46:00.002-04:00

I read this blog religiously and I posted a comment in response to her post about airing public grievances. I am giving you three of my five. :) Why just three? Because I have to keep you guessing, internet.

1. If you are twenty and weigh less than a toddler, wear ginormo platform heels and skinny jeans, do not shop at children’s consignment sales, at Target or in any of the other places that normal mothers go to pick up diapers, tampons, milk and wine while wearing no makeup.

2. The word is “specifically” no “pacifically.” Using the term “pacifically” either means you’re a sailor or a moron and it leaves you wide open to me saying, “Well, atlantically speaking…” Seriously. I hear that everyday. No one "pacifically" does anything, no one "coversates" and nothing is "supposably" the truth. It's English. Learn it.

3. I have tattoos. Fifteen, actually. Stop staring. It doesn’t make me a weirdo, a felon, or a crappy mom. I guarantee you, random-old-lady-with-your-stupid-stink-eye-at-CVS, I’m the smartest person you know. And way cooler than the women in your bridge club.

Cell SuNdAy

2011-03-20T18:16:00.003-04:00

Soccer Face

Birthday Beers

"This school lottery is way boring. But my shoes are so awesome I'm glad I came, just to give me an excuse to wear them."

It totally was a Milli Vanilli Song!

2011-03-20T18:11:00.000-04:00

March 20 - Blame it on the rain..

2011-03-20T17:52:00.002-04:00

Was that a Milli Vanilli song? It's stuck in my head.
I am recovering from a hectic and wonderful Birthday Week. I so wish everyone could have an entire Birthday Week, but alas, it is only me.
Tuesday we had dinner with my in-laws.
Wednesday I ate McDonald's, leftovers from Tuesday night, and Chinese take-out and laid in bed all day and watched weird movies. By weird, I mean Addams Family Values, The Lost Boys, and about a half-dozen episodes of Bones.
Thursday I had dinner with my parents at the Mexican restaurant which - SCORE - now has an arcade built in. Margaritas + electrical babysitting = parental bliss, at least on my part. I'm sure there are lots of people out there who, like, actually WANT to spend every moment of a family meal with their children, but I prefer to have at least ten minutes to myself, when I'm not fishing the stubby fingers of an eighteen month-old out of the salsa or ushering Big to the bathroom nine hundred times. Or apologizing to the waiter because the children in my house find amusement in throwing bits of napkin and pieces of unwanted food on the floor.
Friday I.. Wait. What did I do Friday? Oh, right. NOTHING. hahaha We watched this week's episode of Off the Map, which is rounding out rather nicely especially after Loca told Dr. Cole that she loved him, but he was an idiot. I finished off the Birthday Beer Moopsicle bought me (really, it's the most practical of the birthday gifts) and went to bed.
Saturday we had soccer, My Nephew got a new puppy who is, as of five minutes ago, still nameless. Despite my suggestions of Violet, Sky, Rutabega, Parsley, Aspen, ESPN, Princess Leia and Aphrodite. The girls went down to stay with mis padres, I cleaned and went to Lowe's to look at paint colors and did some work for my dad. I met with a client and then had dinner which turned into drinks with some friends of mine.
Needless to say, I slept until nine a.m. this morning when Moo-ry Potter woke me up because the dogs peed on My Nephew's only shirt and, surprise of surprises, I seem to be the only one capable of operating the washing machine.
Wow. I think I earned extra Weight Watchers Points just by typing all of that.
And, I need to excuse myself to deal with the situation that arises when Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire is playing in the living room and Big starts questioning me about getting a wand and a broom.
Must quell this before Baptist in-laws overhear.

So we totally skipped March 14 and March 15...

2011-03-16T07:36:00.003-04:00

But they totally don't matter because it's B-DAY!
Bow down, homies. It's the much-heralded "Day of My Birth". And I am going to spend at least three hours of it lying in my big, comfy bed, surrounded by pillows and holding a remote. Will there be Fawlty Towers on DVD? Will there be romantic comedies on HBO On Demand? Will there be obscure Werewolf series reruns on SyFy?
That is for me and my new green bed-in-a-bag from Target to know, and you to... Not know.

To keep you occupied while I stuff my face with leftover Red Velvet cuppy cakes, I gift you with...
This. It's a survey. Don't get too excited. Or read this. My neighbor totally got Prince tickets!

ten things that you liked to see in guys a hundred years ago when you were dating:
- nerdy inclinations - maybe he likes Star Wars, maybe he's really into music... some passion that's not exactly run-of-the-mill

- nice arms (what? they can't all be existential qualities)

- a certain comfort level with strong / independent women

- an accent

- taller than me... which was, in fact, a deal breaker for me. BUT before you start throwing shoes at me, I'm 5'3.5" tall. Taller than me is almost EVERYONE over the age of twelve.

- allows me my own quiet, space as, under normal circumstances, I'm quite a loaner and might possibly spend my existence reading books and never leaving the house were it not for my children.

- a kickin' sense of humor

- a nice ass

- a desire to do better in the world

- an open mind... In the event that I came home and said, "Hey, have you ever thought about joining a commune? I did some research and..."

Best subject in school? English and Spanish.

Favorite colors? Green and brown and navy blue. Sapphires are my favorite gem stones because I find the depth of the coloring is mesmerizing.

Favorite animal? Elephants. I would totally buy an elephant. And then maybe it would eat someone and we would end up on Fatal Attractions!

Favorite people? My family, hands down. And my old co-workers.

Intrested in anyone? Alex O'Loughlin - the hot from Hawaii 5-0. Not the Asian hot guy and not James Caan's son. The other one.

Sport? Putt-putt or Chase-The-Toddler and Guess-That-Smell which are very exclusive games that only parents can play.

Can you dance? Oh, I so totally CAN dance! I am my own Soul Train when no one is watching me.

Are you happy? Of course. I have an entire day ahead of me where self-fulfillment is my only objective. Who would be unhappy with that?

Last time you cried? and why? Yesterday and it was because I got a fleck of sheet rock dust in my eye. I am not generally a crier.

Miss anyone? Always

Regret anything? I do not believe in regret. I try to redirect my energy in a more positive direction.

Would you change them? I would change nothing.

Best guy friend? The Mood

Favorite snack? Aldi Fit&Active Cheddar Cheese Rice Cake Crisps. Damn they're good. Serving size is 7 crisps... But sometimes I just eat the whole bag.

Cartoon character? Jem from Jem and the Holograms