Zoe Rights

Irony

2012-01-02T20:52:00.000-08:00

It'd be easier if he was stupid.

2011-10-17T00:04:00.000-07:00

The Man-child is struggling right now. Seriously struggling. I know, I know I'm probably breaking some sort of blogger code right now. One where I'm supposed to hint at having some terrible problem but never actually saying what that problem is... Back of the hand to the forehead, declaring woe is me, exasperating my readers to no end, making you wonder.

Is it the kids, I bet it's the kids. Or work, maybe it's work.

But nope, I'm going to be all wild and crazy and flat out tell you...it's the Man-child. He's struggling. He's struggling big time with just that...becoming a man. Still living in my house and following the rules. But having all these feelings of independence and burgeoning yearnings without any idea of where to channel it. Worse- channeling it in ways that make me want to simultaneously hug him and tazer him.

...and you know what? It's stressing me THE HELL OUT. Sorry, sorry. I know. I'll rein it in. Nothing, and I mean nothing makes you question your effectiveness at being a parent than going through a time such as this. It's gotten to the point I can hardly watch Parenthood anymore because I can't stand to watch what Sara is going through. I'm muttering to the TV. At least your kid has gotten a job. At least she's gotten herself a home. At least she's standing on her own two feet.

Was I too hard on him? Not hard enough. Too pushy, not pushy enough? Am I being too pushy, not pushy enough? Will he one day snap out of it and become a decent human being? Will one day I look back on this time and laugh?

I think this is why I was given two kids- one to remind me I'm not the worst parent in the world.

May come and go but we always have the East Bay

2011-10-02T22:20:00.000-07:00

Work friends are a weird thing. Sure you go to lunch together, you go out to drinks. Dinner occasionally. Maybe a waterpark or two. You share the ins and outs of your lives. Troubles with kids, the spouse. But are you really friends? Like real friends? Like call to pick you up at 2:00 in the morning when you hooked up with the Miller Light guys and aren't quite sure where you are but know that you have to go home to get ready for the 6:00am conference call with Belgium friends?

Or is it some other weird relationship that defies a label. Like trying to determine what to call the man in your life after the age of 35- a boyfriend, man-friend, lover, main squeeze, special friend, partner, hostage???

Work friends are tough to quantify. Mostly because they come and go. Sometimes with little notice. Sure it's a little different with LinkedIn and all the other social networking sites where you collect old colleagues like baseball cards only to fan them out and pull one in times of need...like a job or just someone to meet up with for a beer and to reminisce about the "good ole days." How good we had it, with company picnics and stock options and a living wage. Oh, the good old days.

But are they real friends?

When a work friend leaves suddenly, with seemingly no reason or explanation, it's tough not to feel a little bummed. A little sad. After all how often as an adult do you get to make new friends? Sure you have the couple friends, your kids' friends' parents friends, the book club friends but none of whom do you spend so much time with. None who slog through the thick and thin. None who know without a doubt just how weird that girl from marketing is...you know the one who repeats everything she says but under her breath in a weird sing-song way.

So I guess yeah- they're as real as it gets.

No, No everything is fine.

2011-09-26T23:12:00.000-07:00

So I went to see a movie this week. Because that's what I do. I fill up on real life from dawn to dusk and once a week I sit in a darkened, preferably cool but not too cool room and watch other people's lives. It's my bliss. Sometimes I'm entertained. Sometimes I get to laugh. Sometimes I think well at least my life's not as bad as all that. Sometimes I don't think at all.

This week I saw Sarah Jessica Parker try to juggle everything in the latest chick lit turned chick flick.

In between wincing at all the ways Hollywood screwed up a perfectly good book and laughing as some of the stay-at-home Nazi mother references hit just a little too close to home (why on Earth am I the only person laughing in this theater?) and lamenting because let's face it Sarah Jessica Parker and James Bond are just a little too old to be playing these roles... Really? Really? Are we supposed to believe you were 40 when you had your kids? 45? 50?- I'm reminded of one simple fact...the undeniable truth of I see you/raise you.

For those of you who haven't yet seen it, the premise of aptly named I Don't Know How She Does It? is (wait for it) being a working mom is hard. I'll stop here and give you a minute.

Done slapping yourself in the forehead while simultaneously muttering a resonating DUH? Good, we'll continue.

Yes, yes it is. But I'll see you, raise you...one working mother for a working single mother. Being a working single mother is even harder. Do you know why it's so hard? Because there is no one else to blame if you get it wrong. No blaming Dad. (or Mom *head nod to all the single dad's out there) No blaming anyone else when something goes wrong. That's why it's so damned hard. It's you, you did this. You weren't there enough or too much. You didn't cut the crusts off or you did. You gave them space, too much space. You cared too much, you didn't care enough. You, you, you.

How do you keep everything together without losing it? Even more so what happens when everything spins so out of control together seems like a far star in the distance? Is it as simple as the movie would have us believe? *spoiler alert. Tell your boss your boss NO?

No, no it's not.

As a side note...teenagers are generally assholes. Even when you love and cherish the very ground they walk on. Pure, unadulterated, grade A, prime Assholes. Period.

Go create something

2011-09-22T06:50:00.000-07:00

How do we explain it to the children?

2011-09-21T06:14:00.000-07:00

Morale of the story: You never know where life is going to take you.

Oh Bridget, you were the only normal one

2011-09-10T09:52:00.001-07:00

Kendra gets a husband, a baby, a book, and her own reality show.

Holly gets Peepshow, a reality show, the best gay friend ever and the entire city of Las Vegas.

and poor Bridget gets this.

Poor Baby

Really, Bridget, Really. A Northern California Indian Casino in the suburbs of Sacramento. Really? Not even Reno.

Although she is joined by 90's super rapper Tone Loc writter of such hits as...

How can we miss it?

Dreaming

2011-08-30T06:39:00.000-07:00

I just found the only house I've ever wanted that I never knew I wanted. Whatever you know what I mean.

home office design by atlanta architect Castro Design Studio

Me: That's it, we're moving.

SuperGirl: Where?

Me: Here

traditional exterior design by atlanta architect Castro Design Studio

SuperGirl: Where is it?

Me: Georgia

SuperGirl: Um no. Besides Georgia isn't a state.

Me (incredulous) thinking- *what they teaching you kids in school these days?*: It isn't?

SuperGirl: No there's only two states- California and New York

Me: *staring stupefied

SuperGirl: and maybe Oregon and Washington.

Me: *staring stupefied Then what's with all the stuff in the middle?

SuperGirl: I don't know- there's stuff in the middle?

Me: Good point- What if we just move it here then?

When did this happen?

2011-08-08T06:26:00.000-07:00

I'm boring. There I've said it. I've let the cat out of the bag.

I've become boring.

Boring, boring, boring, boring. The only adventure I have these days is daring to eat dessert before dinner. Ohhhh what a rebel.

How? How did the girl who used to hop in a car at eleven at night for some all night partying, or the girl (literally girl) who'd sneak into a bar to see Guns and Roses before they were even Guns and Roses, the girl who chatted up strangers on the bus. The one who used to thrive on adventure. Who couldn't get through her day with a little adrenaline pumping through her veins. How did she get so boring?

Let me tell you. It's kids. Kids make you boring. It's what they are biologically designed to do.

There you are going through your life happy as a clam. Then BAM. Right upside the head. Your precious bundle of joy is born. Suddenly a great overwhelming fear overtakes your entire body as you realize in one gigantic cosmic slap of the forehead, JUST HOW MANY WAYS YOU CAN SCREW THIS UP.

Let's forget for a minute about all the physical dangers, or the dangers of simply being too stupid to have children, but think of all the normal ordinary ways you can seriously do some lasting damage. I mean look at what your parents did and they were fairly normal people.

So you overcompensate. You set out to provide the most cushioned of existence. You move to the suburbs to be surrounded by people that look like you and act like you. Where crime is nil and sports become the activity of the weekend. Your entire world becomes meetings and the field, homework and the commute. Movies on Saturdays and the elliptical everyday. Vacations to the aquarium and museums.

I'm asked the question "What inspires you to be adventurous, inspires you to try new things?"

I don't remember anymore.

But I think I'd like to spend some time finding out.

Boobs

2011-08-02T06:59:00.000-07:00

Men you may wish to stop reading now.
.
.
.
.
.
Don't say I didn't warn you.

I caught sight of my boobs in the mirror the other day and let me tell you...I think the words OH MY FREAKIN' GOD exploded out of my mouth. And not in a good way. When did that happen?

Look it's to be expected.

Two kids + aging not gracefully+ that bitch gravity= Oh dear Jesus just how fast can I get on Extreme Makeover Spackle edition?

I think large breasts are one of the greatest jokes of all time. Sure when you're younger, they're great. Naturally perky, firm, fluffy like two giant pillows of fun. A wonderland. Twin Toys. But when you get older. Yikes!!!

Let me tell you those B cups aren't looking half bad right now.

I used to have tow have a perfect rack. Disney and Stan Lee combined couldn't have done better. But when did my beautiful twins turn into a set of chain smoking blue haired wrinkled old ladies?

I always thought I'd be one of those people that floated into aging gracefully. A wrinkle here a wrinkle there- who cares? I just didn't think it would start at 37.

I change my mind, I change my mind. Let me off the ride. I want my old body back. One that didn't wake up with a twinge here and an owie there because apparently sleeping is just a little too strenuous. One that could do more than a single push-up. One that didn't consider Yoga strenuous exercise. One with a little less buoyancy in the pool. A little less junk in the trunk. A little more fear in her rear.

Yeah- I don't know what that last sentence meant either.

Aging- it's not for the wimpy yo.

Just like Global Warming

2011-07-28T07:13:00.000-07:00

Of all the useless things in the world-roundabouts, Segways, rubber band balls, paper weights, collector plates, anything that's sold on QVC....

Is there anything more useless than a check engine light?

Or in my case the ....

Designed to inspire fear and dread.

What the hell is this even supposed to mean? Service Engine Soon..or what? I'm going to spontaneously explode?

My car is going to turn itself inside out. I'm going to be one of those poor schulubs on the side of the road with cell phone in hand looking miserable while the rest of humanity curses them for daring to break down causing an already intolerable commute home just a little more God-awful?

Why? Why do they never sit in their car where it's safe. You're not going to blow up. I swear. But if you continue to hang out on the side of the road with your door wide open you might!!!! Or at least bounce a few times when that semi knocks you into next week.

So this weekend I had the delightful experience of dumping a Disney vacation's worth of moola into my rolling deathtrap. Two days. Two days without my old friend.

And then the music..dun, na, dun, na dunnadunnadunna...

It's back!

Is this why you always hear people bitch about buying American? #failChevy

Hope is the denial of reality

2011-07-25T07:17:00.000-07:00

I won't lie. I live in denial 98% of the time.

No, the car's light engine isn't really on.

No, the electricity isn't going to get shut off tomorrow.

No, that noise in the car it doesn't mean anything.

It's perfectly fine that I don't get 60 minutes of exercise every single day.

My bank account isn't really overdrawn.

I'll find a way to make an extra $500 this month.

I think denial is an under-appreciated part of life. After all what is denial but the refusal to acknowledge the existence or severity of unpleasant external realities or internal thoughts and feelings.

Denial allows me to say things like...

My kids are going to turn out perfectly fine.

I'll get to the mechanic and it won't be that bad.

I'll somehow manage to pay the rent, the electricity, the car payment and feed the kids on this thimble sized paycheck.

I'll fit in full time work, full time school and full time parenthood and I won't fail at a single thing.

I'll make it to work on time. Even if I leave 20 minutes late.

Everything is fine.

See denial. It's not that bad.

Oh, Is this why I battle traffic everyday?

2011-07-21T07:56:00.000-07:00

I am not going into work today.

No, I haven't been fired. Geez.

But I am not going to work today. I've cleared my calender (except for one stupid meeting), cleared any expectations, cleared my desk (into my computer bag) and am not going to work today.

I'm going to "work from home." Which everyone who has every worked from home really looks something like...

Work for 30 minutes, change the laundry, work for ten minutes, go on twitter for ten rationalizing that you've gotten so much work done you deserve a break, work for ten more minutes, change the laundry again. Work for five minutes, yell up the stairs for SuperGirl to get out of bed and get ready for work. Spend twenty minutes crafting the perfect e-mail, stop go to the bottom of the stairs and yell that you really mean it this time SHE NEEDS TO GET UP RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE OR SHE'S GOING TO BE LATE, go back to work, Yell up the stairs again only to realize she's actually in the shower, drive said daughter to work and sneak off to get a pedicure while on your "lunch". Try to go back to work but really spend fifteen minutes staring at how pretty your toes turned out in an after lunch mid-afternoon stupor. Change the laundry again. Stare at the growing pile of laundry on your bed. Rationalize that you won't be able to concentrate if you don't fold the laundry. Fix the perfect cup of coffee. Go back downstairs and go back to work. Accomplish three things and call it a day.

Boy if I worked from home everyday I'd have buns of steel from running up and down the stairs all day.

But then again I probably wouldn't have a job any longer.

Summer fun, it happened so fast.

2011-07-16T12:28:00.000-07:00

Lately I've fantasizing about a beach house weekend in the same way normal people fantasize about winning the Lottery.

I want the house to be on the Lake. Like ON the lake. Where I can walk off the back deck onto the sand. And a fireplace. One where we can roast s'mores. With overstuffed furniture and huge windows.

Near the small town but not over-run with people. Where I can get coffee- great coffee and fresh organic vegetables and fruit and an awesome brunch.

Where we can spend the day lounging around, reading and talking and playing games. Not watching TV, or surfing the net, or writing blogs, or texting our friends, or playing words with friends. Where we can unplug and swim and relax and reconnect.

Just a quick weekend, up on a Friday, back on Sunday afternoon.

I've started cruising the sites. It started off slow, just a quick peek over lunch. Quick check in the morning. Now it's from site to site to site.

You know what I figured out? I'm going to have to win the Lottery. Just so I can stay here.

It's my Beach!- They said so.

Too cool for school

2011-07-11T06:48:00.000-07:00

It's happened finally.

As the (young) (ha only in my own mind) mother of teenagers I like to consider myself a little more in tune with modern culture than most of my peers.

Maybe it's because ours were the first lost generation, or because ours was the first who were introduced to computers as a part of our learning experience (although how exactly preventing four oxen from catching cholera and dying was a class I'll never know) but I find my entire generation (props to the X'ers, Hey, Ho, Hey, Ho) is pretty comfortable with technology. For the most part at least we're in on the joke.

Hey get off my lawn, you crazy hipsters!

But I have to admit even I was thrown for a loop last night, when checking out in Borders, my son referenced the T-shirt the clerk was wearing. The two then proceeded to regal each other for a full ten minutes in the most refined of Nerd speak. I'm hard-pressed to repeat it here as I was too busy smashing my lips together and mentally repeating baseball scores as to not burst out laughing. Which lasted approximately the 30 seconds it took to get to the car, where I had to sit on the curb for fear of toppling over in laughter. The kind of laughter which has on-lookers scooting across the street, convinced you will soon pronounce "The End is Nigh."

To this day, I have no idea what exactly was communicated between the two, except at one moment, when in complete earnestness the young man proclaimed behind the counter, well I've been playing for a really long time, like since I was ten (did he just push four groups of hair together to form that goatee) so I'm a total Master.

Ah, that's just what I needed to stay humble. Thanks Universe.

Today I Just Want to Lay in My Bed

2011-07-07T20:05:00.000-07:00

Every day I sit down at this computer and think, I need to update this blog. I write a sentence. Delete. Write another sentence. Delete. Sigh.

It's not writer's block. It's work. Stupid, stupid work. Crushing the creativity right out of my soul.

Too tired to post. Too tired to much more than stumble to my bed.

I think it's time for a vacation.

Because I miss you!

Credit: Jason Lee
Article: Wired

Friendly Neighborhood Annoucement

2011-06-25T21:54:00.000-07:00

{Photo Credit}

So guilty!

Good Job New York!

2011-06-24T16:41:00.000-07:00

Summer fun with a side of lollypops

2011-06-21T22:23:00.000-07:00

Week two of the parasitic cleanse is done. Check.

I know, I know. I haven't been here for two weeks and all I can talk about is poop. But then again why should it be any different than any other day.

But seriously, I do feel better. Not as bloated or foggy or just plain blah. Not only that but I haven't felt the usual cravings. Hell I haven't visited the most important place in the universe *cough Starbucks cough* in four whole days. Which is amazing considering they were thinking of having a booth named after me. *If only. -Or sugar. No chocolate for a whole week and the world didn't end. Who knew?

That is I would feel better if work weren't sucking out my very soul. Jeez. When did become an acceptable practice to expect your employees to work 80 hours a week.

It's a good thing the people I work with are so awesome (except for the loud chewer- she can go) or else it would royally suck.

I do actually work with some pretty incredible people. Like people I really want to spend time with after work. Hell just this weekend, we went to the water park.

Yes, the one at which SuperGirl spends 40 hours a week at now that the weather has settled into typical Sacramento Valley temperatures just this side of Hell.

I have to tell you it's kind of scary how many times a week she comes home to tell me how this person had a heart attack in the wave pool, that person had seizures in the Lazy River. For pete's sake if we going to be safe anywhere in this crazy world, one would assume it would be in the Lazy River. The Lazy River- it's right up there with chocolate and bunnies wrapped in awesome. What a concept, make a circular shaped pool, shove people in an inner tube and let them float around. It's one of the reasons why the rest of the world hates America I tell you.

Did you know the Water Park of America has an indoor Lazy River? I can't decide if that's the most awesome thing ever or just plain creepy.

Look- the water tubes exit the building and then go back in.
{photo credit}

Anyhoodle, luckily no one died when we were there as that would have scarred me for life but they did throw a fake baby in the deep end of the wave pool to make sure the kids- I mean lifeguards were paying attention. I have to say I'm reassured. Those kids can move.

...and I thought childbirth was gross

2011-06-15T06:32:00.000-07:00

Did you know 85% of people carry parasites in their body? 85%. We get them from the food we eat. The water we drink. Going barefoot. Fine Mom! Fine- you were right.

So I took my dog to the vet not long ago, only to discover the poor thing has worms. Ok, she's a dog- it happens. Give her some pills, She gets rid of them and we're all good. Bing, Bing, Done. Until the vet mentions off-handly right before she walks out the door... that it was a good thing we came in as this type of worm can be be transferred to humans. I hear a distant echo from down the hall..."But you should be fine because it's not like you let her sleep in your bed, do youuuuu..."

Whoa, Whoa, Whoaaaa, hold the bus.

WHAT!!!! Transferred to humans.

Of course I let her sleep in my bed. Hell, I'm one step away from crazy cat lady with my menagerie of cats, and dogs, and kids. Where the heck else is she going to sleep? All of you crate people, shut it.

Worms, huh, worms. No way. I'd know if I had worms. I can't get worms. I'm a middle class, white woman from the suburbs. It can't happen. To the Internet Batman.

Why do I go to the Internet when I want to look up medically related issues? Why? It's like a James Cameron movie. I know it's not going to end well.

201,655 search results. Really, Google, really? All the sites agree- everyone has parasites.The also all agree- don't you dare go the doctor and ingest the poisons doctor's are likely to prescribe when so many wonderful anti-parasitic can be found in the food we eat. Onions, garlic, pineapple, lemons, herbs, oh my.

But ok, I'll bite. What can it hurt?

So I go to the natural foods store. The one with the creepy commercial

and I'm surprised to find a flock of brosefs. Brosef? I don't want to explain my tummy troubles to a brosef. I want a lovely crunchy hippie wearing a hemp skirt who has a deep understanding of all the wonders herbs can do for our body. But the brosef leads me to this Paragone stuff. I stare at him in disbelief. He swears up and down. Dude, this is the best, easiest thing on the shelf and I'll feel better in like no time.

It's been about two weeks. I can tell you my stomach is flatter. My number 2 time is a little more regular and I don't feel as tired.

I do have to tell you...taking this has one very unfortunate side effect. Horrible. Terrible. Disgusting. Disturbing. Almost can't talk about it.

The need to stare into the toilet bowl after every bowel movement with a vivid fascination. It's gross. Do I see something, do I see something?

Maybe it's time to cut back on the seeds.

Disclaimer: Not only was I not paid for this, I'm never paid for anything. ever. Maybe I'm doing the Internet wrong. Sigh.

Save me, please!

2011-06-02T06:20:00.000-07:00

So we had this new girl start recently. Well not really a girl considering she's the same age I am. But since I'm only 27 in my head-I'm totally embracing the whole girl bit.

Anyhoodle.

She's a nice person, sweet even - but one of these days, my darlings, you are going to see me on the ten o'clock news and it's going to be because of this girl.

I can picture the video exactly. Me flying across the table with hands outstretched chanting. Make it stop, MAKE IT STOP.

Why?

All throughout the office we have small bowls of candy- the peppermint kind that restaurants give out. People grab a couple as they go into meetings. Which usually isn't a problem for most people.

I first noticed it last week, sitting next to her during our regular Wednesday sales meeting- started off innocently enough. Just a little bite, suck. Then another bite with the back teeth- loud suck. The a big bite, crunch. Ok, that's annoying, I thought. Followed up a few minutes later with Does she know how bad that is for her teeth? A few minutes after that... What is she 90 years old? Next meeting I sat across the room.

Then I was trapped in a small office with her.

Who knew a single piece of candy could even last that long? I swear to God the meeting lasted 27.5 hours and all I could hear was CHOMP, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chomp, CHOMP, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chompCHOMP, CHOMP, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chompCHOMP, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chompCHOMP, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, chompCHOMP, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chompCHOMP, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, CHOMP, chomp, chomp, chomp and then it was gone.

I almost wept in relief.

...and then she reached into her pocket.

And pulled out another.

I AM

2011-06-01T06:23:00.001-07:00

I read. Books, Magazines, milk cartons, and blogs. Nothing is safe. I’ll read over your shoulder. On the bus. While I run. For fun.

I flip through the pages of glossy magazines and think… I want to visit that coffee shop or sit near that fountain. I want to white water raft down that glass green river or kayak on the still crystal blue water. I want to hike up that mountain or through the heavy green foliage of the rich Brazilian forest. I can build my very own cabin in the woods. My garden will be as rich and lush with perfect container gardens of rich and lush vegetables and perfectly purple plums glistening with the morning dew. I read about desert hikes and think…I can do that.

I read cookbooks and blogs. I can cook that. Perfectly prepared grilled beef and spring onion salad with crisp and leafy greens and seared protein so perfectly cooked you have to pick it up with your fingers as it slides off the fork. Beautiful deserts and classic drinks served in heavy glasses of generations before.

I read books. Glorious books and I roam through the world, threading through people’s lives and suddenly I’m transformed. I will go to New York and stand at the very edge of Time Square staring up at the billboards. To Hawaii and parasail across the ocean. Stroll down the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk and be delighted by the jerk of the bumper cars or the sail of the Pirate ship over the ocean.

I read. To learn. To be inspired. To be adventurous.

I am a Reader.

How many people?

2011-05-31T06:24:00.000-07:00

Finally!!!

I'm not going to say I thought this day was never going to come but let's just say it was touch-and-go for awhile.

Graduation Day.

The only upside to the Mother Nature on acid environmental experiment we seem to be experiencing this year was the absolutely perfect temperature. Not too cold. Not too hot. Goldilocks couldn't have asked for anything better.

Yes- I cried. Just a glistening tear or two. Certainly not the bucketful of sobs the chick next to me was indulging in. It's ok. Yes, we are all proud. pat pat pat.

In all seriousness, it was an interesting experience watching the kid cross the stage and not just because he was dead last and I could no longer feel my left butt-check.

I hadn't expected the feeling of utter relief that washed over me. The feeling of "I did it". Yes I know- way to steal his thunder. But I did it. I raised this kid all the way into adulthood (sort-of). He's a functioning member of society. He traversed high school with the minimum of damage and emerged the other side. We didn't end up on the 10 o'clock news. Yeah.

Oh come on- you know you think it. But it's done. Except.

Now college.

Buddy, Buddy, Buddy, Buddy

2011-05-29T22:42:00.000-07:00

Why? Why do I always agree to it?

Oh, sure, I'd love to watch your dogs this weekend. No, of course, I don't mind. You go off to Disneyland/ Tahoe/ Reno/ San Francisco/etc and I'll stay here and watch your dogs. Again.

Except, I do. Mind that is.

Except I always forget I mind when I agree.

I know, I know- dogs how hard could it possibly be?

It's not hard. It's a total, complete pain in the ass.

7:00am - Let the dogs out of their cages, feed them and send them outside.
5:00pm- Let the dogs in. Feed them.
9:00pm- Put the dogs back in their cages.

See- not hard. Not really. Except, it's not as though the dogs are at my house or that I'm staying in the house where the dogs are. Which means three times I day I have to stop whatever I am doing at the designated time and trek over to perform said function.

Plus they won't let the dogs be in the house alone. And I just can't do it. I can't let the dogs stay outside when it's a 102 degrees outside or 30 below. Ok, Ok. It's California. It never gets 30 below. But it does get cold. And I can't do it. I can't make them stay outside.

Look at this face? Could you?

So I go over to the house and sit with the dogs. For hours at a time. And ask myself over and over... why? Why do I always agree?

It's not a problem.

2011-05-18T06:33:00.000-07:00

I've come to the conclusion that if you choose to procreate and you are of the female persuasion than you should only have girls. Hey, listen up buckaroo. These are some words of wisdom here.

Sure, boys are all rough and tumble and crazy-silly-goofy. There is no one more fun to have at your side than a male offspring during a game of tag in the park or when you need a cover to go watch Legion for the 57th time . I love you Paul Bettany. Yes, I am pretty sure fantasizing about you (with the wings) during my "special" time is probably going to land me straight in hell, thankyouverymuch.

ummmm, doughnuts.

But one thing and one thing alone trumps all that play in the mud fun time...it's the teen girl cuddle. The kiss. The hug. From a child who is taller than you. Not all the time mind you. But every once in a while- like if the gods smile and the moons are aligned.

I won't lie. It's my new crack. After a particularly hard day. Just a hit, baby. A quick hug. Let me kiss the top of your head. Wait I need a chair. A quick snuggle on the couch while we watch Pretty Little Liars. The new season is starting soon.

All of you parents of young kids... with the new baby smell and the Mama, I love you's and the please hold me, can suck it. Because I have something you won't have for years and years...teenage affection.

Ok- I just realized how dirty that sounded. Oh gross, get away from me, Chris Hanson. I didn't mean it that way. You just wait, you wait till you have teenagers.

Oh crap, when did I become my eighty year grandmother?