Don't Mess With My Toot Toot

Jeff and I have been kicking around the idea of another kiddo at some point. I know that deep down, he would love a boy. Although tonight it dawned on me, who really needs a boy when we have a Claire. Claire's new little thing is that she wants you to lay on the floor with her before going to bed. She likes chattering on about her day and tooting. Yes, that is right my little princess lets it all out before bedtime. Tonight we were laying on the floor and I was singing to her. She was twirling a piece of my hair in her little fingers when she let out one of the loudest toots I have ever heard. She whispered ,"excuse me" and then started giggling. I couldn't help myself and started laughing too. Mid giggle, she lets another one rip, and another and another. By this time, I was laughing so hard that tears were running down my cheeks. I could feel her little body tense as she attempted to one up her last pass of gas. We were both cracking up when she abruptly stopped giggling and said in a panicked little voice, "Oh, no ...I pooped!"

The Pathetic Princess

Once upon a time, in a not far enough away land called Germville there lived two little Princesses. Princess Elle enjoyed nothing more than putting on a show. She excelled at turning the most minuscule injury into a full blown catastrophe. Her apprentice and sister Princess Claire was a very fine study. She was quite adept at taking mental notes to increase her repertoire of limping, moaning, dramatic coughing, and wheezing. One day Elle was gallivanting through the enchanted play yard with her friends, when someone let out an oink, and then another playmate followed suit. The Queen was particularly nervous upon hearing the oinking. The next week Princess Elle awoke feeling a tad bit warm. The queen felt her head and was concerned. Elle took a deep breath and coughed. Terrified that her oldest Princess would begin to oink, the queen marched the princess to the doctor. The doctor chuckled as the Princess attempted to cough and bat her deep brown eyes. Rest, fluid, and a tea spoon of sugar should do the trick. The queen was relieved by the lack of oinking. She hugged princess Ella, snuggled up with her and told her a story. Princess Claire noticing the cuddles and pats that her sister was receiving decided to put on a show. She coughed, she moaned, she limped, she may have even attempted an oink or two. Princess Ella sighed and whispered to her sister, " I'm really sick Claire, I went to the doctor. You are not sick." The Queen was on to the act and gave Princess Claire the attention that she was craving. After the little princess were in bed the exhausted Queen took a deep breath and drank a whole bottle of whine...I mean wine.

The end

Flood, Mud=camping dud

My new motto when asked to go camping again..."Camping is nature's way of promoting the motel business". I am a proud 8 hour camping survivor. Who knew camping could be so ...fun? Storms, lightning, mud, oh my! There were, I must admit glimmers of "fun", but that all seemed to be washed down the gully along with layers of soil when the storm hit. Who knew that the meteorologists would be correct when predicting 90% chance of rain? I bit my tongue and did not yell, "told you so" at the top of my lungs. I sucked it up to the best of my ability. The pictures were before the torrential down pour. I learned that it is all fun and games until lighting strikes 60 feet from you. The crack of thunder after the lighting sent the kiddos screaming in terror. We all evacuated to our cars and sat while the rain battered the car. Once the storm seemed to let up we checked the damage, our tent was sitting in about 1 inch of water. The girls and I carefully waded through the mud and water to the tent. We had just gotten comfortable when we herd a loud thud and yelling. Apparently, a tree fell on the corner of a tent next to ours. I called my girlfriend on the verge of tears, she informed me that another strong band of storms was coming through soon. So, we all decided to cut our losses and get the heck out of there.

Tent sitting in 1 inch of rain, lightning 60 feet away, mud caked in between my toes...never feeling guilty about not "trying" camping...priceless!.

High ho it's off to camping we go

Rain, rain coming this way
70% chance the weathermen say

While you are warm, dry, and cozy in your bed,
I will be cursing and wishing my husband dead.

We are heading out tomorrow morning in the RAIN. I have tried to convince Jeff to go without me and just to take Ella. No luck so far. So much for my virginal camping trip being blissfully fun. If he were smart he would let me stay home, and go next time when there is not a chance of torrential rain and lightning. Really, he is trying to sell me on this "fun" why not wait until conditions are a bit more...dry??? I hate being wet, wet socks, mud, whiny kiddos stuck in a tent. F U N ????

Nibble Nibble like a ...

Chomp, chomp, sniff, sniff...Claire's mommy is in a tiff. Today I was called out of my dance class at the gym because of my sweet little angel, Claire. The child care worker calmly informed me that Claire had bitten another child and drew blood. I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes and she explained that if a child bites they must be immediately removed from the building. My sweet girl a violent criminal, what did I do wrong in my parenting? I went into the child care center and saw her sitting in time out, she looked up at me and flashed her winning smile, "Hi mommy!" I got on her level and attempted not to lose it. I was mortified and so disappointed in my kiddo. I did not raise her to be a menace. I felt horrible for the poor other child that received the wrath of her little teeth. After signing a legal document about the incident, I swiftly escorted my girls out of the building sobbing. Claire went to time out for quite a while and then had to play alone in her room. She is only 2 and a half so I can't keep her in her room all day. This is only the second time she has done this, the other time she bit her older sister AFTER Ella bit her. I read on the web that this is typical behavior for a 2 year old, but it did not make me feel any better. Right now Claire is happily chowing down on her PB&J, while humming twinkle twinkle. What am I doing? I'm feeling guilty about what happened. By now I should come to terms with the fact that motherhood and guilt go hand in hand.

campophobia

campophobia- the fear of camping. I have been suffering from this since being emotionally scared at girl scout camp in 4th grade. I vaguely remember the flashlight light that fell down the latrine, ticks, dirt, rain. Did I mention the bugs? I know emotionally scared, may be a tad bit too dramatic. But seriously, I am a wimp and I do not camp. I married a man that grew up with two other brothers camping quite often. Early on in our marriage Jeff realized much to his chagrin, that my idea of camping is leaving the balcony door open all night at the Westin in Puerta Vallarta. Pathetic, I know... This weekend we are going with a few other families CAMPING. All of our friends have been warned this this is my virginal camping trip. I am nervous about the whole thing. I have told my husband that all of the preparations are up to him. I think his secret plan is to liquor me up so that I forget about my fears. All I can say is alcohol means more bathroom trips and who knows what is lurking in a camp ground potty. I know the girls and my husband will have a blast. Deep breath...bring it on! I have emphatically stated that if I hate it I will not go again. I am all about daddy daughter camping trips. They camp, I stay home lounging around in my jammies,read a few books, drink a few glasses of wine and potty in my sparkling clean, bug free potty.

Vomit, Poop, Gas Oh My

We have returned from a wonderful, although far from perfect trip to the beach. A few days before the trip Claire started this whole vomit in her bed around 2:00 am. We gave her a little empty plastic wipe box that she carried around with her. Claire would look up at you bat her long lashes and say in a sad little voice, "this is my vomit box". Each night, I would find vomit in her box, I started thinking that perhaps she was doing this on purpose to get attention (I read it on WebMD). Was I creating a bulimic? The day before our beach vacation I took her into the doctor. The doctor was appalled by my questioning whether Claire was doing this on purpose. I protested that I had read about children doing this on the web. He rolled his eyes and sighed. Did I feel like mother of the year or what at that point...not so much. He suggested that I give her Maalox at night. On to our beach vacation... poor little Claire had vomiting and diarrhea that reared its ugly head at 2:00 in the morning each night that we were there. All I can say is thank God there was a washer and dryer in the condo. I should have packed the vomit box. Other than loads of laundry and Clorox wipes, we had a great time!

Spin Doctor

I have a feeling Ella just may have a career in politics. She isn't gregarious or outgoing, but she sure can put a spin on any situation. The other day the girls and I went again to Wal-mart, this time I will admit that I bribed them with McDonald's. After a pleasantly uneventful shopping trip, we sat down to eat. Ella looked over and noticed a young man with a very interesting hairdo. Being the observant child that she is, she felt it necessary to announce to the restaurant that the man had very crazy hair. "Look Mommy, look at him with the crazy hair." I gave her the evil eye and whispered that a comment like that could hurt his feelings. So, in a much louder voice Ella proclaims, "That man has crazy, beautiful hair. Did you hear that Mommy crazy BEAUTIFUL hair." The man looked over at us and smiled. "See that I made him happy, crazy is beautiful Mommy." Love that girl!

On a side note,, if you are looking for a laugh check out:
www.peopleofwalmart.com

Gag me with a spoon

Grody to the max it is back! The acid washed jeans of my youth are back in, ankel zipper and all. The pair pictured are for sale for a mere 280.00. If I had only saved my vintage jeans to sell on ebay I would be rich. Word to your mother! .
I am so going to pinch roll my jeans tomorrow!

Potty Talk

I must admit I am having difficulty blogging lately. I loath the computer, I think this is all due to the fact that I now have another part-time/part-time job as a ghost writer. Mysterious isn't it? The crappy thing is now my computer is a necessary tool for my job and no longer my escape from reality. I won't lie, I have been occasionally checking out the trashy gossip sites just to see Jon "Gross"elin and yell at his douche bag picture. Anyway a little update:
Claire is now officially potty trained, she has mastered the poop in the potty bit. She has also discovered a new manipulation tool. If she is doing something that she doesn't like her new phrase is, "I have to go poop, my poop is coming out now!" She yells this at restaurants if she is done with her food, and doesn't want to sit and wait while we finish. She yells this if it is not her turn to ride on the back of the shopping cart in Walmart. The other day she yelled that eloquent phrase in the quiet library. Talk about the stink eye, The guy in the back corner surfing porn even looked up and gave me a dirty look. I get the cry wolf thing, but I don't want to take any chances. If you have ever attempted to clean poop out of panties, you would know what I mean.

While we are on the subject of poop, I am finally getting my IBS looked at. I have a few unpleasant tests that I scheduled a few days before our trip to the beach. I plan to look good in my swimsuit darn it. The colonoscopy prep is a bitch, but it is a great way to purge a few pounds just by literally sitting on your ass. This brings me back to a question, whatever happened to the cushioned toilet seats from the 80's. Remember those? My parents had one, it let out a whooshing sound whenever you sat on it. Your butt cheeks would sweat and stick to the seat if you sat too long. I couldn't find one online like I had as a kid, but I did find this gem (see picture). According to the site, "The Rivers Edge Products Deer Round Toilet Seat adds an element of surprise to any bathroom." Yes, you too could get the thrill of a life time for just 64.95!

Walmart and motherhood

The other day I had a low parenting moment. I happen to believe that on most days I am a really good mommy. On some days however; I sob at night thinking about my day. A week ago I had one of those days. I should have known it was going to be a bad day, when the girls had a melt down going in to the gym, and then again when I picked them up. I should not have pushed it, but I had errands to run. Super Walmart was front and center on my list. As a parent you know that Nordstrom's is not the place for two little ones on the verge of melt downs, but Walmart... now, Walmart you have a little leeway. I know it is bad to judge, but I have seen some pretty piss poor parenting at the Walmart, where shoes after 5:00 are optional. There always seems to be announcement about a lost child. I figured that we would be in and out and a little "drama" would not be the end of the world. It was close to the end of the world. Claire hurtled herself out of the shopping cart and took off. I had to run after her and scoop up her skinny little 25 pound rear. I gently thrust-ed her into the cart seat and buckled her in. Ella was being great and then out of the blue she decided to throw a fit about the kind of fruit snacks I was planning on buying. What the heck? I walked down the aisle to grab something else and saw her launch about 10 boxes of her favorite snack into the card. Claire is just cracking up. Son of a &*($@!! I got on her level and attempted to talk to her about it...who am I kidding, I probably yelled just a bit. At that moment, little Miss Houdini managed to escape. The shopping trip ended with both kids sitting in time out facing the depends boxes. It was the least populated aisle. So yes, I am a WALMART SHOPPER!!

I could've been a contender. I could've been somebody

"I could've been a contender. I could've been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am." I am being inducted into society for key woman educators in October. The other day I attended a introduction meeting. I knew that this was quite an honor and I went into the meeting pulsating with self esteem only to be shot down, my confidence withering as it went splat on the concrete floor. There is noting quite like introducing your self after five amazingly impressive women with PHd's and honors up the wazoo. My turn...."I am taking a break to stay at home with my kiddos, but I am very passionate about education." My honors and glory are years old, I am not use to feeling like I am at the bottom on the barrel. I cried on the way home and then my hubby made me a great drink. Love my hubby always knows what to do!!

Hootchie Mama

Who wears short shorts...mommy wears short shorts. I met a friend for a play date today and I was appalled by the length of my shorts. Perhaps I have become Elasti- girl and my legs have gotten longer?? I purchased them at Old Navy this spring and I swear I don't recall them being this short. Daisy Dukes are not attractive on a 34 year old mommy, esp. a mommy that has been meaning to buy a new razor. So my dear friend, I sincerely apologize for exposing you and your children to my pasty white, unshaven legs.

Wits end

My IBS has "reared" its ugly head again, this time it invited Mr. Migraine to join the party. Yeah! There is nothing like teaching a bunch of four olds and having to rush out to the bathroom. One of my students enthusiastically questioned me about my wiping ability and the professed the benefits of a good moist wipe. Potty talk is always a favorite topic amongst the preschool set.

I have spent the last several hours rushing to the bathroom and staring at a computer screen looking for a place to stay at the beach at the end of September. When advertising a beach condo or house, the main picture should NOT be a photo of a nautical shower curtain. I don't care how jaunty the curtain is... you are not winning me over.

I am watching the clock dreading the 5:00 hour, time for Ella's swim class. That child has the uncanny ability to formulate a fairly impressive list of excuses from a scratch on her leg which causes unexplained immobility, to the fact that her hair hurts so she can't possibly swim.

Sweet Punishment

Our local gym is giving away free copies of a Harlequin romance novel in the locker room. After I changed the girls out of their swim suits, Ella ran over to the books and grabbed one. She can't read yet so I thought...what is the harm?? This romance paperback novel features a swarthy man, dripping with passion and a "do me" expression on the cover is now Ella's new favorite thing. She wants to take the darn thing everywhere. There is nothing like walking into Nordstrom's with your 3 year old clinging to soft porn. She is looking for letters, commenting on the page numbers and making up her own stories which have nothing to do with the hunk on the front cover. In the car today, she was "reading" a part of the book where bunnies and butterflies were playing a game in the garden. Little did she know, that the passage that she may have been reading was describing a far different game. Perhaps hide the sausage?

Priceless Picking

Flower-girl dress 65.00
Wide width shoes 45.00
Fluffy socks 5.00

Blackmail photo....Priceless

Super Why meets Donkey

I have always considered myself an intelligent person. I am college educated and have a passion for learning new things. Yes, I guess that I would describe myself as a pretty smart cookie. That was until my three and a half year old daughter discovered the word..."WHY??". The questions started off fairly easy, but now not so much. I am feeling a little dumber every day. I do thank Google for helping me answer the never ending questions. Today's random question, "Do birds toot?".

Wax on Wax off

I do know better, I really do, but I couldn't pass up the 8 dollar eyebrow wax. There is a little shop two doors down from my job that I have been meaning to try. In the past I have spend the big bucks at the gym's spa. 20.00 brow wax with the brow guru. For 20.00 I get a perfect brow, no break outs, soothing music and a short face massage. For 8.00, I got the following:
1. Go to the empty room at the back of the store which smelled like a bad perm. Wait for 5 minutes.
2. Sit through a lecture informing me that I should in fact...Wax my arms, wax my forehead, and my lip. What the heck...I am not a chea pet!
3. After politely refusing excess hair removal, my brow and FOREHEAD is aggressively waxed.
4. Wiping tears from my eyes, I am asked if I would like to bleach my skin to look less "spotty". They are called freckles, I kindly informed the woman and I rather like them. "Oh...but they are so dark" she responds. "lighter would look so much more beautiful."

So for 8.00 I have a hairless forehead, irritated skin,and a SPOT complex.

Learning to fly

We have been hanging out at the pool since it is been so darn hot. I love watching my girls play with their daddy. I remember when my dad use to toss me up in the air. Does anyone remember doing the Nestea Plunge?? Ahhh.. memories!

Zip it .com

One of the wonderful things about pre-schoolers, is that they tell it like it is. One of the worst thing about pre-schoolers, is that they tell it at the top of their lungs at the most inopportune moments. The girls and I were in the gym locker room. I was gathering up our bags, when I notice Ella staring a a lady changing her clothes. I asked Ella to come close to me and help me, so she would stop staring. She enthusiastically yelled, "OK Mommy!! That lady looks like Strega Nona, she has an angry face." I was mortified, I turned to apologize to the woman and low and behold it really was a spiting image of the book character Strega Nona. I murmured an apology and yanked the girls out of the room. Ella kept insisting in a spectacularly loud voice, "She is Strega Nona Mommy, she has lots of wrinkles too!" I whisked her over to a corner and told her that it is not nice to talk about people. She looked at me, wrinkling her little forehead and said, "I was OBSERVING Mommy, just like Sid the science kid." What the heck am I suppose to say to that? So I just told her it is fine to observe but next time whisper her observations into my ear, like a secret. I was feeling pretty good about my parenting skills, when not a minute later Claire my two year old, yells "That man is picking his nose, that is nasty and dirty!" Really??? I then attempt to march the kiddos to the car as fast as I can, but every few steps Ella says, "I need to whisper to you". I bend down and she says, "The grass is green. There is a brown ant on the ground." Two more steps..."Stop Mommy I have a secret....the wind is blowing my hair." So much for my "brilliant" parenting skills.

wedgie and you know it clap your hands

Today I was admiring my kiddos tushies at the pool. Their little swim suits had crept into their cracks. They could care less, they were waving their cracks in the air like they just don't care! I splashed over to attempt to extract the material from Ella's crack when I had to stop myself. She has her entire life to be concerned about wedgies, why make her self conscious about it now. I was temped to let my suit creep where the sun don't shine, to feel free like my girls. Yeah...I couldn't do it. I have some sort of warning system that goes off if material even shifts near the vicinity of the crack. I also quite often suffer from the phantom wedgie curse. If I am in my swim suit I am constantly checking to a make sure that everything is in place. If you have a wedgie and you know it clap you hands.

Poop a saurus

You gotta love kiddos. They tell it like it is, no holds bar. The other day I was taking Ella to dance class when my IBS " reared" it's ugly head. Those of you that know me well, know that I have been battling IBS for years, and I always seem to have an attack in the most inopportune moments. Back to the story... I am cursing under my breath, moaning, whining, yelling at the cars ahead of me to hurry up. We pull up to the dance studio and I tell Ella that I am going to the potty and she needs to sit on the bench and put on her dance shoes. I fling open the studio door and Ella announces to everyone there, "My mommy needs to go poop RIGHT NOW!" I feel my face burn with embarrassment. I rush to the bathroom just in time to see a little five year old girl shut the door. Really? I attempt to hide behind the lost and found box. I have broken out in a cold sweat, my legs are shaking. I hear the little girl turning on and off water, giggling. Here I am in agony and this little girl is playing in the darn water. Ella can see that I am in pain, so she yells at the door, "My Mommy needs to go poop, she might poop in her pants!" I could feel the eyes in the room turn their attention to my sweaty, red face. Finally, the little girl skips out of the bathroom, I race in. I made it, barely. After I left the restroom Ella asks in her little high pitched voice," Are your panties clean, or do you have to change?" Nice!

Facebook Freaks

I have been suffering from a bout of insomnia for the past several weeks. I fall asleep fast and then wake up at 3:00 am like clockwork. I lay in bed thinking of all of the things that I need to get done. Last night when I woke up, I was determined to do something productive with my insomnia. I decided that I would clean the kitchen. I trudged down the stairs, tripped over a renegade Cinderella doll, and spewed out a few curse words. Somehow between the bed and the stairs I lost my motivation to do anything. So what did I do??? Facebook of course. Try this next time you can't sleep. ..plug in your last name and see who else out there has the same one as you. Talk about scary! I entered in my maiden name and discovered that the gene pool associate with my last name is pretty shallow. Ok, so there were 330 people with the same last name and I know that I am related to 10 of them. Who knew that a rebel flag flanked by a mullet would be strutting around out there with my last name! The worst profile picture was that of an obese man attempting to lick his own nipple. Tonight I think I will try my married name.

Not your average TOOL

The other night I finally became interesting. Jeff and I dropped the kiddos off at my parents and headed out to the Most Interesting Academy (http://dosequis.com/academy) hosted by dos equis. OK, I have no luck with winning contests, the lottery, or any sport but for some reason luck is always on my side when it comes to getting into parties. In Vegas, we got on two VIP lists to the top clubs, perhaps they see me and think that poor homely mom needs a night out. Anyway, apparently there were over 9,000 RSVP's for this event and only 800 got in and we were one of the 800, dumb luck. Our plan was to catch the shuttle bus and be whisked away 55 miles to a castle out in BFE for the party of the century...all for free. As you know, if I see the word free I am all over it. We parked the car and headed over to the pick up point and saw the line. Hundreds of people waiting for free beer, a castle, and Bear Grylls who was suppose to be skydiving into the party. We waited for an hour in the 105 degree heat and thought...let's just drive. So we drove the hour and 15 minutes to the castle found parking on the side of the road and just walked into the party. According to our local newspaper, several hundred others were stranded in a cow pasture waiting for a parking shuttle that never came. We on the other hand, were having a blast. There were water slides, free beer booths, amazing food, and the opportunity to become interesting. I ate a few chef prepared bugs, seriously if seasoned just right you can get over the crunch. I danced, I peed in the woods, and I am embarrassed to admit rode the water slide after peeing. Ladies, you know what I am talking about when I mention the splash factor. For some reason, it never dawned on me that others were doing the same thing. There were a few guys that chose to forgo a bathing suit and slide down nude. No one really wants to see that...the water was a bit cold if you catch my drift. So, for a moment I felt cool and interesting. Now I am back to being a mom and a wife. Laundry, dishes, potty training, and poop. Yeah!

Spin this!

Due in part to my daughter's comments on my gut and my burning desire to feel cool I attempted a spin class. I was apparently not firing on all cylinders when I decided to attend. I bruised or broke my tail bone a few years back. Thanks to my brother's burning desire to throw me from a wave runner, I occasionally have difficulty sitting for long periods of time. So why I thought that a spin class would be fun, I do not know. I strode into the class a bit early. I was sporting my only matching Adidas workout shorts and top. (thanks Ross Dress for Less) My hair was in a messy pony tail, ready to bike my butt and gut away. The room had two giant screens projecting scenes from the tour de France. I suppose this was to make the participants feel like we were really biking, not just going nowhere. The instructor was an adorable perky gal with an amazing bod. I glanced around the room looking for a bike near the back. Score...back right corner! I must have looked like a complete moron attempting to adjust the bike, because the instructor came bouncing over and suggested that she take over. I need to mention that the bike seat was about four sizes too small in my opinion. Where was the beginner banana seat with a back rest?? I hoisted myself onto the minuscule seat and began a workout from hell. My legs ached, my arms were weary, but my rear end was screaming in agony. My hemorrhoids that have been in "remission" flared, my rear bruising with every complete rotation of the peddles. I cursed myself for not wearing an overnight maxi pad or better yet the giant pads that I was given after giving birth to my children. Never again will I spin. So if you see me this week, I'm not walking funny because I had a good time last night!

Really

After two weeks of "vacation", followed by a week of wedding events I gained several pounds. Sadly it was not due to the food I ate, but more likely due to the beverages that I willfully consumed. My sweet little Ella stated today after pulling up my shirt and patting my tummy, "I sure hope you don't have a baby in your tummy because that is not a good idea".

Butt sweat

Sorry I have been off line for a while. The past week has been crazy and my laptop bit the dust. My little brother got married on Friday and we were all in the wedding. It was a fantastic affair. Ella and Claire were flower girls. An hour before the wedding, both girls were whining, their faces streaked with tears and their noses bursting with snot bubbles. Ella had diarrhea and Claire kept pulling out her hair accessories. They refused to pose for any pictures. I think one of the only ones with Ella in it has her picking her nose. So much for my dreams of my two little cherubs posing in their beautiful white dresses. I was terrified of what they would do when they walked down the aisle. I was a brides maid so I walked down the aisle first followed by two other gals. My girls were on their own to perform. Tears of relief ran down my cheeks as I watched as they dutifully walked slowly down the aisle dropping the flower petals. The reception was fab, both girls danced and had a ball. My girlfriend picked them up and took them home just when they were starting to lose it. I owned the dance floor at the reception. I don't think that I sat down once. I downloaded my pictures the following day and discovered that I had a giant stain on my dress. The stain is perfectly situated on my rear end. I had been wiggling it, shaking it and twirling it all around the dance floor. Every picture seems to have my dancing stained rear in it. Jeff thought at first it was butt sweat, but I was wearing cotton panties AND spanx! I checked my dress, sure enough there is a giant stain of what appears to be BBQ sauce and grease. Either I was sabbatoged or I sat in something like an entire plate of BBQ??? Check out the picture...it is NOT BUTT SWEAT!!!

Wasted on Youth

So today I asked my oldest, Ella what she liked most about our vacation. She said that she liked it when we went to the zoo and it was pouring down rain and she had to tinkle in Claire's diaper. (We were stuck during a down pour hiding out under the lion shelter when Ella had to go, no potty insight) I can't tell you how thrilled I am that after two weeks of "fun" this is all that she remembered the most. Darn! I foolishly asked my two year old that replied, "The train scared me." I repeated the question, and got another shrill little shriek and a dramatic sob about the scary train. Really??? The credit card bills will come in in a few weeks, I gained 5 pounds, I packed, I planned, and these are their sweet little memories???

MJ lover all the way

I wanted to marry him when I was in third grade. I love him and yes, I did cry when I heard on the train that he had died. I had a couple of drinks tonight to numb my pain. I want to send a shout out to my bro for planning to include thriller in his wedding. I was the president of my neighborhood fan club in St. Louis. What a tragedy. Sorry from my ramble but he was the king of pop and a love of my pre teen life. This was my theme song in JR high!

survivor

We are back. Two weeks living out of suit cases, 2000 miles in the car, water parks, a train trip and tantrums galore. The family trip is over and done. I can now look back on it and smile. On the whole, it was really good, but as with any vacation nothing is perfect. I must give kudos to myself, I did a wonderful job of packing and managed to not forget anything. We also didn't lose anything major...there were a few moments that I was worried about my sanity, but that passed. The next few days I will chronicle a few of the amusing situations that occurred.

Single ladies, potty breaks, mullets oh my!

We have made it to Louisville KY. I have finally procured a laptop to fill everyone in on our trip. I want to stress the way to survive a family vacation is to keep your expectations very low, that way you will only be pleasantly surprised. Due to the fact that my time on the computer is short, here are a few of my latest observations:
* Driving 12 hours with a 2 and 3 year old is only made bearable by a portable DVD player and potty breaks. Benadryl does nothing for a 2 year old determined not to sleep. In fact, it just makes her higher than a kite. After refusing to nap, we pulled into the hotel @ 10:30. Claire stayed up talking, and singing in her crib until 12:00. Jeff and I attempted to be stern with her about being quiet, but when she busted out in her shrill little voice, "All the single ladies, calling all the single ladies!" we had to crack up.
* Waffle House is the best place ever to eat with kiddos. Seriously, your parenting skills and lack of personal hygiene after spending hours in a car will go completely unnoticed!
* Too much McDonald's causes excessive gas, screw the fact that they have a germ infested playground. I don't care how much your kiddos want to play, if it is raining out and you cannot open the windows to breath in a little fresh air... skip it!
* Kentucky is the land of the mullets and a few do in fact wear hammer pants. I saw a beautiful black suede pair, in the 85 degree heat.
* There is actually a company called 1-800-got-junk. If a family member says they work there it is NOT a JOKE. Do not laugh. Yep, I totally made a donkey out of myself with that one.

Tomorrow we head to Chicago, a six hour drive. Funny how six hours seems like nothing after 12. may the force be with us.

Highway to Hell

In a little more than 28 hours we are getting in the car for a two week road trip. I spent weeks packing and planning, my husband is planning to pack his stuff tonight. He figures that will take him about 5 minutes. Yeah for him. Our house sitter will arrive tomorrow, so I have to clean the house. I have nothing nice to say at the moment so I will leave you with a few quotes.

“A vacation frequently means that the family goes away for a rest, accompanied by a mother who sees that the others get it.”

“A vacation is like love - anticipated with pleasure, experienced with discomfort and remembered with nostalgia”

“No man needs a vacation so much as the man who has just had one”

Insane in the Rogaine

I won a free facial from a "medical spa". They were at our gym advertising botox and laser hair removal. I can't pass up a chance to win something, so I dropped my name in the box to win free services. I won a facial. Whoo Hoo. Why I chose four days from our trip when I have so much to do...insanity I suppose. I looked up the company and all I could find was hair implants, apparently the company specializes in plugs but is attempting to branch out. I walked into the testosterone filled waiting room. There were four different men all in various stages of "plugs". I really tried not to stare, but it fascinated me. I just couldn't look away. I tried to busy myself looking at the menu of various treatments, but my eyes just kept being drawn to some poor mans head. I just hope that the plugs are a process, because if I were to describe his hairline, the word "natural" would not be in my description. I was finally called back into the room. The woman asked if I would rather have a relaxing hour long facial or microderm abrasion. My mind flashed back to the menu of services...the facial was 100.00, the microderm abrasion was 147.00. I am all about the deal, screw the relaxation I want the most expensive "free" thing I can get. I am thinking this may have been a mistake. Half way into the procedure the woman mentioned, I may have a breakout out in about four days. Great... just in time for my vacation. Just in time to see people I have not seen in years and I will look like a darn pizza face. Basically, this wasn't a free facial because afterwords I ran to Ulta and blew some money on acne concealer just in case.

Cornhole

What is it with corn? My girls love corn on the cob esp. Claire. She can wolf down a cob in no time flat. Unfortunately, her digestive system is not quite as efficient. I changed her diaper yesterday after her nap. I really think that she doesn't chew. On another note... Four days and counting until our road trip or as I call it Highway to Hell tour 2009. Yes, hours of "good times" in a rental car with a potty training two and three year old. Bliss. Anyone know where I can purchase a ankle flask?

Painting Nudes

I am sitting outside while the girls are painting. They are both in their panties. Claire has decided to forgo the paper and paint her body. Good times...that was until she took off her panties and began painting her crotch region to "look like mommy". Not sure why she chose purple...

Too Legit to Quit?

"Are you Too Legit to Quit? Do you think Anything Goes on the Dance Floor? If so, then you should Pray that you're Big Man enough to kick it old skool with some Hammer Pants -- because baby, they're back." Yes, ladies that is in fact a quote from an article in stylelist. So, it is time to let your crotch hang low and let it wobble to and fro. Gone is the fear of panty lines or the outline of a super maxi overnight pad. If they didn't look like my daughters soaked diaper after playing in the sprinkler for hours, I may be inclined to purchase them. Who knew the crotch dump pants would come back!!! Yes, and they are making a come back. Women are in fact wearing the hammer pants which are now know as "harem pants". I found a pair of silk Harem pants for a bargain price of...wait for it...198.00! "These pants look surprisingly sophisticated and sexy, especially in black." Really? When I see a droopy crotch, the word sexy doesn't come to mind. The first one of my friends that purchases a pair and wears them out to a club, I will buy a drink. Any takers??

Rain???

I just logged on to our local news to check the weather for tomorrow. It read "Cloudy with a 30% chance of rain?" That's right there was actually a question mark in the forecast. Really? I could forecast a question mark! Thanks News 8, I do appreciate your honesty.

Supermarket loathing

Down the road, about 5 miles away there is a wonderful swank grocery store that offers at least 4 free wine samples, fresh cheese samples, balloons and stickers for the kiddos, and sparkling clean shopping carts. One can stroll about listening to Sarah Mclaughlin being pumped through the bose speakers. The store closest to me, the same chain mind you, is what we affectionately call the ghetto store. I kid you not, today the tune crackling through the speakers was Sir Mix-a-lot's, "Baby Got Back". Don't get me wrong, I am actually a Sir Mix-a-lot fan, but the disparity is blatant. So are the prices, so I stick to the ghetto. Today I saw two children tethered to a shopping cart, they were tandem mind you. Who knew there was a tandem leash?? Not that the tethering did much good the poor woman appeared to be chasing after her cart. After fighting the crowds, I finally get up to the conveyor belt. I am anal about unloading my items. I like to categorize them, veggies go first, then fruits, frozen items...you get it. I grew up going to the commissary and that is what my mother always did to help the baggers out. I do it just because I am that anal. Usually, I figure out that I have grabbed an item that I don't need. Then I am faced with the dilemma, do I nonchalantly stick on the candy rack, or do I give it to the cashier and apologize profusely while getting the stink eye. Today I did well, no extra items, but I did God forbid have coupons. The cashier sighed, rolled his eyes and aggressively began scanning them. Really? Why is it such trouble to DO YOUR JOB? After I paid, I noticed all of my wonderful categorizing had been for naught, there was no bagger and the items were heaped together at the end of the "runway". The cashier made no move to start bagging. I felt like we were in a stale mate, should I be a douche bag and wait for him to bag, or should I just do it the right way. I folded. The tool just stood there and watched me. I was really wishing that Pink's "So What" song was playing through the cheap JVC speakers...Na na na na na I wanna start a fight!

Wrinkle me this

For the longest time I was so self conscious of my smaller than average chest. I avoided strapless dresses, invested in padded bras and fretted over bathing suit tops. I have a new obsession, I need something for my face. I know that there are a few more lines on my face, but I have never been too worried about them. Up until now... My wonderful mother, in the past several months has pointed out that I need to stop worrying because I am getting frown lines. Yesterday once again she ran her palm over my forehead and told be to stop worrying, stating that she didn't want me to look like her. Now I have a serious complex. My life was hard enough sucking in my tummy, adjusting the occasional creeping wedgie, and now I have to force myself to stop furrowing my brow??? She recommended a product called frownies. I had to check this out. "Facial pads like Frownies work mechanically by stretching out wrinkles and “unwrinkling” them as you sleep." While they do work according to Oprah, I need to keep the following points in mind:
* You will look stupid in bed with them. Apparently random stickers on the face is not very sexy.
* They won’t work if you’re a quitter. You need to follow the instructions and it takes a few weeks for them to take their full effect. I am in fact a quitter, this will be hard.

I am going to head to Steinmart tomorrow to pick a box up. My husband will be thrilled with the new sticker face. Ohhh...that is my new theme song instead of "Poker Face", I am "sticker face". I really need to lay off the wine.

Potty train

The movie UP was fantastic. We sat through the first showing, the place was semi empty. I loaded my giant man purse with small bags of popcorn, juice boxes, fruit snacks and lollipops. I am cheap when it comes to the movies, and I wanted to make sure that the girls were occupied. If they are eating they are happy. Claire was perfect, she actually sat and watched the movie! There was very little drama to report. Three trips to the potty during the film. The movie theater is evil when it comes to potty training. The automatic flush is just terrifying to Ella, and fascinating to Claire. I had to bribe Ella to sit and potty, but I had to bribe Claire to stop waving her hand in front of the sensor. The funny thing about watching a movie with a bunch of other little kiddos is the constant potty train, at any given moment you can faintly hear a "Mommy I have to go potty." " Are you sure sweetie?" "yes!" "You just went 15 minutes ago." "But I have to go now!"

What UP?

Tomorrow I have decided that I will take the girls to see Pixar's new film, UP. I am a little nervous, Ella has been to two other movies in the past and did great. This will be Claire's first movie. It could be pure hell depending on her mood. Tomorrow is opening day and I wanted to get the early bird special, so originally I attempted to order the tickets online. I discovered there was a 1.35 courtesy charge PER TICKET!!! You can shove your courtesy charge where the sun don't shine. I drove over to the theater and purchased the tickets. Traffic was backed up due to not one, but two accidents. My quick trip to save some money cost me over an hour in the car on a 95 degree day. I purchased tickets for the early bird showing @ 10:30. I was informed that this showing would not be 3-D. Thank Goodness! I can't imagine the drama associated with keeping glasses on a two and a three year old. I was so excited to come home with the tickets. I just read a review and it was glowing with praise. The last few lines threw me..."this is one of the first PG movies that Pixar has released". Really?? Are my girls going to have a fear of balloons now? On the other hand it may make a trip to the grocery store easier when the cashier says they have run out of free balloons!

7 year itch

Yesterday we celebrated our 7th anniversary. I have heard several people mention the 7 year itch, I prefer lucky number 7. I scoured the internet for the traditional 7 year anniversary present. Wool...yes the traditional present is wool. I really think that is where the whole darn seven year itch issue comes from. The modern present is copper, a little better but come on. Jeff and I had decided to forgo presents this year and go on a long date instead. Well, with wool as a present I felt that I wasn't missing anything. I did get Jeff a bottle of "Coppertone" and made him a card that I glued dated pennies on to it. 2002-2009. I was pretty proud of my creativity. We went to two different wineries and had dinner at the last one. We had an awesome time. We strolled through the vineyards and talked about the past seven years, the ups and the downs. I noticed a young lady picnicking with her lover. She sat up casually exposing a perky breast. I of course pointed it out to Jeff, didn't want him to miss out on the show. That is true love I tell you!

Stage Mother ...Oh Brother!

I fear I may have mentally become one of the dreaded stage mothers. I did not act on any of my thoughts or desires, thank goodness. The other day Ella had her first dance recital. I scoped out the front row of seats early so I would be able to see Ella up close. The auditorium was filling up. My sweet little Ella was in the hall with her teacher and fellow classmates practicing. After watching three other routines, I was ready to see my star! Remember, this was a recital for the 2 and 3 year old classes. My definition of "star" was a child that did not pick her nose, grab her crotch, suck her thumb, or cry during the short three minutes on stage. Out stomped her little gaggle of hot pink tutu clad ballerinas. My little star was in the back, I couldn't see a darn thing, my husband threw himself on the floor in order to attempt to get her on video. Ella must have thought that she was in a line because she stayed directly behind the little girl in front. I couldn't help but think if I could only slide the little girl two inches to the right. Perhaps next year I need to slip the instructor a 20 to have my girl in the front row. See what I mean, and we only have another 13 years of recitals!

Dance Fever

Why Not

There is nothing like coming home from a day long bachlorette party at 1:30 am thrilled that you didn't spend much money and discovering a 250.00 new toy in the garage. We are the proud new owners of a pink, two seater, working radio, Barbie Jeep. I am attempting to muster a tad bit of enthusiasm here. Poor Santa is screwed now, how will he ever top that? The girls however, are thrilled...with the box. I am almost to the point that I am over the fact that this was not in the plan, it was not discussed, we don't have 250 dollars just hanging around. Thank goodness for wine and a lot of it.
Anyway, I survived the 20 something bachlorette party and think that I just may have been cool. I will emphasize the fact that I may have though that I was cool. I wore a little mini jean skirt from Old Navy. It was a bit hoochie mama, but the gentlemen that we met at the restaurant didn't mind. I was showered with more compliments than I can count. They couldn't believe that I had two kiddos. They were in their late 30's and so nice... granted they all admitted they were on their third wife. My soon to be sister in law worked it and got them to pay us 40 dollars each for a knee lick. Hold it... it was innocent I thrust my leg out and the married guy gave a quick lick to the back of the knee. He was certain that I would swoon over it. My dog Sadie could do a better job.

Beautiful Nail

Basically...I got home at 2:00 am this morning from a Bachlorette party, a few hours later watched the girls sing at church, and then a few hours later went and saw Rent. I am TIRED! I will leave you with this you tube video that a friend posted on my Facebook after reading my post on the nail salon. Tomorrows topic...Bachelorette party and back of the knee licking.

Back in the day...

Tomorrow I am attending my soon to be sister in laws bachlorette party. I am a bit nervous, I will be the oldest by a little less than a decade. I hope I don't make an idiot out of myself. I have a tendency to become a little too verbose when I have a drink or two. I have to remember not to say, "back in my day...". I will not make reference to the early 80's. I'm sure my Max Headroom joke would fall flat. I have to remember not to point out my stretchmarks, varicose veins, or c-section scar. Give me strength not to talk about my kids, my husband, or cleaning the house. I have to embrace my inner 25 year old.

Free to be you and me

Those of you that grew up in the late 70's may remember the "long playing record" Free to Be You and Me. It provided a positive musical message regarding equality and self esteem. I was listening to it the other day and wondering, what age is it that you become self conscious? Yesterday, we took our girls to the neighborhood pool. Poor Ella's swim suit was having a terrible time covering her fanny. I looked over and she had a full on wedgie, I am talking about all of the material had migrated to her crack. She could care less, she was bending over, skipping, splashing without a care in the world. I felt compelled to arrange her suit several times. Why? She was content, didn't care, and she has a pretty cute bum. I only wish that I could be as care free as she is. Instead, here I am adjusting, tugging, and feeling for a phantom wedgie while wearing my swim suit. I hope that she never loses that self confidence.

zip it

The other day, I took my mother in for a mother and daughter pedi. The evening before, I had showered and gotten ready for bed. I had just laid down when, to my horror realized that I had forgotten to shave. I rushed to the side of the tub for a quick shave. The next morning, I realized that I missed a ruler sized strip on my leg and completely neglected my toe hair. It was too late to do something about it, so I just let it go and headed to the salon. Immediately after entering the salon, my mother and I got busy picking out our polish. I am horrid about picking a good shade. I end up with 80's hot pink or stripper red every time. We went about getting settled in our chair and figuring out the massage remote control. I managed to get mine stuck on some "karate chopping" mode and spend the first 5 minutes of relaxing lurching about spasticly in my chair. The pedicurists got to work. This brings me to my pet peeve about pedicures. I know the employees are talking about me. Just because they are speaking in a foreign tongue, pointing out my impressively long toe hair, cackling with the employee on your right, doesn't mean that I don't get it. You are talking about me! The two ladies attending to our feet were having a hay day with our sad, pathetic, rarely pampered feet. One got a little too aggressive with her cuticle tools and drew blood. My mother let out a surprised "ouch". The the women looked at each other and laughed, jabbering back and fourth. Really, I am paying for this? Apparently, a few miles down the road there is a salon that is rumored to have a no talk policy. The employees cannot talk to each other while they are working. I am so going there next time.

Gianalogue

I don't know if you watched Oprah several weeks ago, the topic was how to talk about sex with your child. It was really eye opening concerning the misinformation flying around out there. I'm not sure why it surprised me, since I too was exposed to a discussion in first grade about a cat having sex. I came home mortified, I was under the impression that there was a serious amount of poop involved in the whole baby making process. My poor mother attempted to skirt around "the talk", that was until I managed to check out a sex book from the public library. Granted the information was in comic book form, but there were still some fairly explicit pictures. The poor librarian who allowed a six year old to check out the book, got quite an ear full from my mom. Anyway...the psychologist on Oprah recommend using the correct words to label private parts. My husband had been calling them "bits" since the girls were small. Girls have "bits" and boys have "bits and pieces". Why I chose this week after the boobies fiasco to introduce a new word is beyond me. I was about to say the word, but just couldn't. I morphed the word into a much cuter, "giana". I told the girls to wash their "gianas". They looked at me, confused. I pointed to their girl part. They happily excepted the new word. Ella has taken it upon herself to now be the boss of the "gianas" in the bath tub. Today she ordered Claire to wash her giana well, or she would get an rash. Claire dutifully followed her sisters orders.

Mouths of Babes

My hubby came through! Breakfast in bed, a small gift, and brunch with my parents. A fantastic day. Ella sat through church with us for once, she is usually in the nursery. She was fascinated with the pastor,lay minister, and acolytes all dressed in white robes. She looked up at me with her big brown eyes and asked, "Mommy why do those doctors go up to the front and talk to themselves?" After the service, the girls practiced walking down the aisle. In July, they will be flower girls in my brother's wedding. They walked slowly down the aisle and then carefully climbed up the stairs, then turned around and enthusiastically hopped down each stair. Ella of course managed to fall down the last two stairs and ended up wailing. I love my girls, I can't imagine what my life would be like without the 24/7 drama. When I tucked Ella into bed, I told her that since I was a little girl I always wanted to be a mommy. She made me a mommy. Then of course, she asked me how she got out of my stomach. I have an easy explanation since I had a c-section. She wondered if it hurt, I told her that yes, it hurt a little bit but she was worth it. She looked at me suspiciously and said, "Mommy your should have just let me come out of your mouth since throwing up really doesn't hurt." Hmmmm....

You lost them mommy

Let me preface this by saying that my 2 year old has always been very curious. At a very young age, she was fascinated by nipples. She pronounced them "Nepals". Often times when she was younger she would ask in public places who has "Napals". She would announce who had them, speculate on the size of the "Nepals", and expose her own. I could easily spin the conversation by saying...Nepal is on the other side of the world. Not everyone has been to Nepal or is interested in discussing Nepal. One day her interest waned and I was thrilled. Last week she reconnected with her burning desire to discuss them. Unfortunately my two year old no longer uses such cute phrases as "Nepal". She has embraced the term "boobies". Today we stopped at the grocery store. I was holding her and she reached down my shirt. I was wearing a sports bra since we had just come from the gym. Ladies, as you know the sports bra does nothing to enhance an already pitiful size bra cup. So yes, I suppose I was looking unmmm a little prepubescent. My adorable 2 year old is determined to solve the mystery of the missing boobies. She announces in her tiny shrill voice, "Where did your boobies go mommy?" I gently pulled her hand out of my shirt and told her to not talk about boobies. That was my monumental mistake. Had I just made something up like...Victoria's secret has the day off, or the miracle bra is too tired, she would have probably let it go. Instead she began to literally panic.... "Oh no mommy, your boobies are missing, go find them mommy." There were several chuckles from the customers in line. I was mortified. Claire reached down for another investigative feel. I yanked her hand out of my shirt, no more Mr. Nice guy. She began to howl and scream. The cashier asked if she wanted a "buddy buck" to calm her down. She took a deep breath and took it. "Here mommy, go buy boobies." Nice...

Odd

I had my 6 month dentist appointment yesterday. I was just there two weeks ago with Ella. Ella has determined that anyone that attempts to put a foreign object in her mouth deserved to be kicked and bit. It was miracle that the poor dentist was able to open up her mouth. I had to pin her down on the chair while she thrashed her legs. I still have a few bruises to prove it. She screamed, she cried, she attempted to bite down on the courageous dentist's hand. After the "cleaning", I was assured that next time it would be better??? So back to my appointment...I have been blessed with great teeth, I have never had a cavity or braces. I really don't mind going to the dentist, sadly I find it relaxing. I did, until I met the dental hygienist with a gift for gab. She talked, and talked, and asked me question after question. Hello, you have your hands in my mouth...do you really expect me to answer. At first, I attempted a few grunts "answering" her questions. After the fifth question, I just tuned her out. She did not take the hint and kept talking. After she was done, she looked me up and down and said,"You have lost so much weight! I really need to try the diet you were telling me about." What? I am the same weight that I was 6 months ago and I know darn well that I didn't tell her a darn thing.

Gay old time

I must admit that I just may have a new crush. Yes, I know I am married and the guy is so NOT into me, but he is just so damn cute. Ohhhh... and he smells great and gives an amazing scalp massage. My new hairstylist appeared in my dreams last night. He cleared out my circa 2000 wardrobe, hung a few pictures, and gave me tips on make-up application. He accomplished all of this with some fabulously snarky comments. Really...I want him to be my friend. I actually have gotten my hair cut by him twice and am sticking to the every six weeks schedule that only the truly vain can afford. Why am I doing this? Granted the hair cut is great, but he makes me feel like a million bucks. He compliments me and gushes over my sense of style. (little did he know that I changed 3 times just to feel semi "in") The best and greatest part is that he is my very own Perez Hilton with a sense of style and a gorgeously boyish face. He looked at one woman that walked past up and down, we both giggled. Once again...leggings are not pants and there comes a time in your life that you should not have long hair. Botox just may be a better investment than hair color.
Enough of my pathetic crush...

Talk Derby to me

I am back from my blog ban. In the past week I have thrown two parties and I am pooped! On Saturday we hosted a Derby Party. It was a blast, my hubby is from KY so the derby is something that we always watch now. For the seventh year in a row I managed not to win anything. Tomorrows blog topic...why I love my new gay hair dresser. There is just something endearing about a man that says, "I'm not making fun of anyone's clothes...I am just pointing out the obvious."

Happy 40th!

Last Night we threw an awesome anniversary bash for my folks! It was perfect, all of the stress was well worth it. Dancing under the stars with my dad...priceless!

Self Tanner Phobia

I am freakishly pale. Pale is such a nice way of putting the fact that the color of my legs resembles the white out bottle on my desk.

I am a natural redhead, pale and freckles are a part of the package. I do not tan, I burn. I am in a constant state of fear of skin cancer. I would never step foot in a tanning salon, but I would try sunless tanner. I must admit however; that I have a self tanner phobia. This stems from the summer of 1986.

I was in 7th grader at Del Robbison Junior High in Las Vegas. The kids on the honor roll were being rewarded with a trip to Wet & Wild, a water park on the strip. A few weeks prior, my mother had allowed me to buy my first bikini. It was a glorious shade of florescent orange with ruffles. The ruffles helped hide the fact that I was still far from developing. I felt great in my new swim suit. At school the girls were all a twitter, discussing their swim suits. One of my friends bragged about the fact that she had already started laying out to get her base tan. After school I rushed home to start on my base tan too. I put on my bikini and stared at myself in the mirror in horror. Florescent orange on a florescent white body, I was doomed. There was hope... my mother had recently purchase a tube of the "new sunless tanner". Bain de Soleil was one of the only ones on the market at that time and it was fairly pricey. My mother promised that she would help put the lotion on before the trip. This eased my mind, I too would have a tan just in time to hit the man made beach.

The day before the trip I kept pestering my mother to help me with the lotion. She said that she would get to it sometime that evening. Patience is not a virtue for a thirteen year old. While my mother was cooking dinner I went to her bathroom and took out the Bain de Soleil. My tan was in my fingertips. I squeezed out the fowl smelling white lotion and began to apply it all over my body. There were directions on the tube, but I knew how to put lotion.

A few hours later my mother told me that she could help me with the lotion now. She did a double take and started to giggle. The giggle got louder and louder until she had tears welling up in her eyes. Once she calmed down she asked, "did you use my Bain de Soleil without me? Common sense would have told me to fess up, but common sense is rare in a thirteen year old. I rolled my eyes and replied, "no". My mother said well do me a favor and check yourself out in the mirror.

I rushed to the mirror and looking back at me was an orange ompalompa. I pulled off my clothes and saw orange hand prints,streaks,and spots. In a dead pan voice my mother asked one more time, "are you sure that you didn't use my Bain de Soleil ?" I was caught orange handed literally. I spent the rest of the evening trying to scrub off the orange, I rubbed my skin raw, but it was no use.

The next morning, I announced to my mother that I was simply not going to the water park. She replied, "oh , yes you are." I managed to survive the embarrassment of the water park, but to this day I am terrified of becoming orange again. The formulas are so much better now, I know.

I learned a lesson that fateful day in 1986, sometimes mothers do get the last laugh.

Catch a brake?

I have been "off the blog" for the past three days. I wish that I could say that I have been basking in the sun on my porch with a cool margarita. No such luck. I have been dealing with one thing after the other. Claire has been sick with a 102 fever, I have a sinus infection, and Ella is "acting" sick just so that she won't be left out.

* Left 25 dollars worth of groceries in the car over night...the steak, pork tenderloin and chicken. So much for my budget saving recipes
* Twice this week forgot about wet laundry in the dryer...smells like mildew
* Spilled pitcher of OJ all over the freshly mopped floor.
* Discovered that my miracle bra new swim suit that I ordered makes my chest appear like my back. Some miracle!
* Hubby spread 300 dollars worth of dillo dirt 3 nights in a row, yard smells like sewer, just discovered that it is killing the grass.

This weekend I am hosting a 40th anniversary party for my parents. If I can make it to Sunday then I'm golden!

What a day

We went to a Muster Day celebration with the family. Fun! We also went out to eat and then on to see the brodway production Aveneu Q. There were some really catchy tunes in the show such as: What Do You Do With A B.A. In English?,Everyone's A Little Bit Racist, and the ever popular song title...The Internet Is For Porn. You need to You Tube some of these songs. Hilarious. I can now say that I have had the privilege of seeing Muppets have sex. This is a strange concept since the muppet is purely a torso...

I lick it

Claire is really into licking everything. She rather enjoys smearing peanut butter on her arms just so she can lick it off. She calls her tongue her "licker". I have asked her to wash her face, her reply is, "No! My licker do it Mommy." So I should have known a trip to Pet Smart to look at the animals would be a bad idea. The girls and I arrive at Pet Smart. Approximately 5 seconds into the trip, Ella sees the fish tanks and has to go potty. Pet Smart is NOT the place to go potty. I have one word for it, NASTY. After the trip to the potty, Claire begins pounding on the cages and aquariums. I reprimanded her and explained that pounding on the glass gives the animals headaches. She nodded and proceeded to kiss (sometimes a peck, others a french kiss) every cage and fish tank. I tried, I really did to restrain her affections. So, if she comes down with some strange illness I will not be surprised.