Monday, August 29, 2011

Back to School part 2

The Freak-Out.

I told you it was coming didn't I? I just thought it would hit the day before school and not two days before.

Here is some backstory- the last week of school in June I had a meeting with my son's team. His teacher, the resource specialist, the aide, and the school psychologist. We ALL agreed that a week before school started my son would meet his new teacher, get his daily schedule for the class and we discussed the possibility of a new aide. So here we are, Monday. No contact from the school. Lucky I texted the old aide and she said she would still be his aide. No word yet from the higher ups.  Am I really supposed to just throw my autistic kid into the lion's den the first day of school?? SERIOUSLY???   Even my Kindergartener's new teacher sent home a letter with a time for kids to come the day before school to check out the room and meet her.

So that's the first thing I'm freaking out about.  Second thing is our new daily schedule.
How does this look?

6:30 wake up (me)
6:35 wake up again (me)
6:40 insert coffee IV drip
6:45 make lunches
7:00 wake up kids and get them dressed
7:30 family breakfast (everyone- including daddy)
8:00 attempt to leave house
8:05 go back in house to find lost shoe
8:10 attempt to leave house
8:12 realize daughters hair is not combed. run inside for hair clip.
8:15 leave house.
8:20 school starts
8:25 we arrive at school
8:30-12:15 MY TIME ALONE
12:15 get to school. stand around awkwardly while all the other mom's are talking in groups.
12:30 pick up Kindergartener and get the hell out of there
12:30-2:15 Errands (I'm not doing errands on MY time)
2:30- pick up 1st grader
2:35- 3:15 home at last. homework and snack time
3:30- 5:00 play time outside (them)
4:30 start making dinner (me)
5:00 kids come in asking if dinner is ready
5:15 consider opening bottle of wine, decide against
5:30 eat dinner and clean (them)
6:30 kids get clothes, shoes, and bags ready for next day
6:35 consider opening bottle of wine, decide against
7:00 kids bath time
7:30 kids bed time
7:30 open bottle of wine. enjoy one (large) glass and some TV of my choosing
8pm daddy comes home and microwaves his dinner
9pm I go to bed.
9:05 daddy sits alone in living room wondering wtf happened to everybody.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

I was shopping at wal-mart....

(NO- I wasn't REALLY shopping at wal-mart. it's a fake story) 

This blog's first sentence has been brought to you by: MelissaBen Dover (who in no way has a hilarious name) (pffhahahahahaha)

So I was shopping at Wal-Mart when I felt something vibrating in my purse. Obviously my first thought was “shit, my batteries are going low in my vibrator again”.  Then I realized that I left my vibrator in my other purse.  It doesn’t match this purse since this purse is white. I like to color coordinate everything.

The vibrating stopped and I carried on about my business. One of the things I love about Wal-Mart, besides their low prices and how well the company treats it’s employees and  how well they take care of land they build on, is all the interesting people I see.  Various color combinations of camouflage, short shorts and awesomely bad parenting and a sea of glorious mullets. 

On this particular day I saw a wedding taking place in the diet soda aisle. It was beautiful.  I caught the bouquet in my shopping cart.  It must have been my lucky day!  Maybe I would also meet my groom-to-be here as well. I wonder if it’s that guy with the t-shirt that says “I banged your mom”. I should be so fortunate.

I paid for my bottle of vodka and  3 boxes of condoms and  got out of there. As I got closer to my car I felt that same familiar vibrating sensation in my purse.  Oh crap, I must have stolen that buzzer from freakin’ Chili’s!! They’re paging me because they want their pager back! Shit! I’m a thief!!  Agggghhhh! No, no wait that can’t be right. I usually take my other purse to Chili’s. The one with the vibrator it.

I finally get to my car and unload my condoms. I look in purse to see what’s making all this vibrating. Oh. My. God. How did THAT get in there?????

Sentence Contest Winner: Sally Secci Scuderi

The first sentence of this short story has been submitted by: Sally Secci Scuderi 

I had serious arm surgery and decided to get a brazilian...... but I didn't know where to start.   I could have just got a Mexican, but I feel like that is so cliche right now. Brazilians are stronger and taller anyway. I wasn't gong to be able to lift my arm for 2 months. I would definitely need someone taller than me.  It's not like I have anything against Mexicans. I like them just fine, and their food. This was a job for a Brazilian though. 

See, about a year ago all my friends were talking about how they were getting Brazilians, and it changed their life.  They all talked about how much their sex life improved as well. I could see that. If I didn't get so tired from all the work I did around the house then I'd have a better sex life too.  I asked them what was so special about a Brazilian.  They informed me that a Brazilian got EVERYTHING. Nooks AND crannies. Well that sounded pretty thorough to me! 

A few weeks back I slipped and fell in my kitchen.  It was a silly accident really.  There was some bacon grease that had splattered on the floor and at the time I didn't have a Brazilian working here so it didn't get cleaned up. I broke my arm in 3 different places, fractured my clavicle and dislocated my arm. It probably wouldn't have been that serious but I was holding my martini in one hand and the shaker in the other and I didn't want to spill either one. It was not a graceful fall to say the least.  So now here I am, all wrapped up, immobile from the waist up. 

If there was ever a time to get a Brazilian, this was it.  How does one find a Brazilian though? Do they live in special communities? Where would I find a favela in these parts?  I decided to put an ad in craigslist. "help wanted: Brazilian to do my nooks and crannies. upper body injured, need help"
I got a lot of replies, but nobody was Brazilian. Can't they READ??

I've decided to go ahead and hire whoever can do it. My sex life be damned. I needed help and this was no time to play the race card. 

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Dear Sun

Dear Sun,

I miss you. Summer wasn't the same without you. How are you enjoying jail?  Have you decided on a gang to join? How does the prison garden look?

You're probably wondering how I know you're in jail. Well, I heard about all those deaths in the mid west and stuff and then I was talking to the moon and, you know, word gets around. I was shocked though that a big, bright star such as yourself would actually do time. I mean Lindsay Lohan didn't even do time! She's not nearly as big of a star as you. Although, in her defense, the only she killed was a bottle of vodka and her career. Just goes to show how messed up our judicial system is. You should have hired Casey Anthony's attorney. (too soon?)

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I'm doing OK. I have a bottle of Jergen's self tanner and a spray can of Loreal tan in a can. So I'm good. I never did get a chance to go sailing though. Maybe you'll get paroled in September for good behavior. I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Well, good luck with that gang thing and I hope you enjoy the soap on a rope I got you.

Hope to see you soon!

Friday, August 19, 2011

In Preparation of School Part 1

I know you've been waiting for it. My "back to school" blog. It will be a 3 part series.
Part 1: What I plan, and imagine it will be like
Part 2: Day before school freak out
Part 3: Back to school wrap up. (AKA: what really happened)

So here we go, Part 1.

The stage is set. The audience thirsts for adventure.... No wait that's not right, that's the opening scene for Rango.


Part 1.

Today is house cleaning and laundry day. Actually that's every day. But this day in particular is important for laundry. I will clean all of the children's clothing and sort it into 3 groups.
School, Play, Donate, Trash. Ok so 4 groups. I will then access their clothing situation and make sure I got all the new clothes they need. Next I will measure their walls and takes the necessary notes to begin construction of their new clothing hanging system.

Seriously- who invented dressers? They SUCK. You can't keep anything organized, you always forget what's on the bottom and the clothes don't get rotated enough. So I'm Big Daddy is going to build them something new. Something awesome. Something accessible.

Then, starting Monday the 22nd I'm going to start waking them up early, and putting them to bed early. We'll also practice our morning routine of showering, eating, dressing.... all before 8am. School starts August 31st so this should give us plenty of time to adjust. I'm also going to practice making lunches that have no nuts in it. Seriously? You can't teach your kid to not eat other people's food? Has it really come to this?

So this last week of August that's my plan. Make new clothing storage, adjust sleep schedule, practice lunch and breakfast. I imagine it will be perfect. We will be on time the first day of school. Hair will be clean, teeth will be brushed, tummies will be full, and lunch will be packed.

As for me... well I will go to the gym, watch a chick flick, get coffee by myself. The possibilities are ENDLESS!

This is the first year that both of my kids will be in school full time. I have entered a new phase of parenthood.  T minus 12 days!!!!

Thursday, August 18, 2011


I was going to make this a status update on Facebook, but it was just too long.

You know how you'll be driving along and maybe you'll see what appears to be a good looking person. (we'll say 'person' rather than man. I'm not sure how many male readers I have but it's nice to not exclude them)
Anyway, so you're driving along and you're like "well hey there goodloo.. rd!! Gross! Abort eye contact! I REPEAT! ABORT EYE CONTACT!!"  They are nowhere near as attractive as they seemed at first glance. Then you feel all weirded out and embarrassed even though nobody was with you and nobody saw you but you still feel like you need to go home and shower.

I hate when that happens.

Religion or Way of LIfe?

Why eating organic is like a religion:

  • You keep it to yourself because it only effects you
  • People think you're an asshole if you push it on them
  • You pick and choose the things you want to eat organic
  • You feel guilty when you don't eat something organic
  • You sometimes feel sorry for people who don't, but you don't say that to them
  • You secretly judge people for not eating organic
  • It costs more money
  • You find other people with the same organic beliefs in a big building, usually on sunday and all facing front. 
  • You find yourself at parties looking at the food and asking "is it organic?"  (I feel for you Jewish folks out there) Was it ever sitting next to non-organic food? Was it processed on the same equipment as non-oranic food?

While most of my food is organic, i'm not completely bat shit crazy about it. Some foods I ONLY buy organic, some foods there is leeway, and other foods I don't give a fuck. 

Holy shitballs. Have you ever eaten organic peanut butter? Jaysus, you may as well get a straw and drink that shit up. No, for this one give me all the processed fake shit you can find. I love me some Skippy. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. Have you tried the honey roasted peanut butter?? OMG. You'll die. I literally eat it with a spoon. It's insane. 

So see? I'm not organic all time. But neither is any Mormon, Christian, or Catholic for that matter. I do my best. In reality- It's Big Daddy who's the big organic requester. He watches all these documentaries about what's going into our food and he tells me "we need to buy organic food from now on" so I say OK. 

Hmmmmm, this sounds familiar. Where have I heard this before? We listen to someone preach about what's good for us and then we go do it. Hmmmmm, I can't.....  quite.... put my finger on it..... I know I've heard this somewhere. I'll get back to you. 

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

You'll love her, trust me

I know a gal. A mother of three, count them: 1, 2, 3 autistic children. She blogs about life with her wonderful family. She has the most beautiful, heartfelt writing I have ever had the privilege of reading. She NEVER complains. (I used to follow a blog of a mother who has autistic kids but I had to stop because I was so freaking tired of her constant boohooing and woe-is-me attitude)

 Her name is Alice. Her blog is "Beyond Convention: Great Oakes, From Mighty Acorns Grow"   (her last name is Oakes. cute huh??)

I absolutely ADORE her. She is funny, sweet, honest and I want to do arts and crafts with her someday.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Me, duh.

I've decided I like to rant. You don't have to make sense, you don't have to agree with yourself in parts, and you really feel like you're getting it off your chest.

When I first started blogging, for someone reason, it was painfully easy to write. Boy did I have things on my mind. Funny things. It seems though, that nowadays I'm so good at getting things off my chest and expressing how I feel, that I no longer have material for blogging. Halelujah! I'm healed!

Then I thought, well I need to start a new, anonymous blog so that I can complain and really vent and no one will know who it's about. Then I realized I already do that... in my diary. By the way- a diary is a lovely audience. Also, I hate reading about people complaining nonstop, so that nixed that anon blog. *sigh*   Diary, you're my only friend. (*side note, Bing tells me that Pink Diary is most likely anime porn. good to know.)

Anywho- All of that has NOTHING to do with today's blog. No, today I'm going to tell you some fun facts about ME. Because this is MY blog, where I get to talk about ME.

  • Big Daddy and I buy a dozen roses every Sunday. If you come to my house on any given day, there will be roses on my table. It makes me happy. (In the fall I go a little nuts, I buy 3 dozen, and put them ALL OVER THE HOUSE. it's awesome)
  • Speaking of Fall, it is my favorite season. It's also my birthday season.
  • I am a firm believer in retail therapy. More than wine therapy (shock) and ice cream therapy (it's a close 2nd)
  • My favorite pastime is doing projects with my main squeeze. He builds it, I paint it. 
  • I like going to the movies alone. 
  • I like the warm spot on the pillow.
  • I'd rather deep clean a bathroom than do dishes. 
  • I gained 70lbs when I was pregnant the first time. I saw it as a hall pass to eat whateverthefuck I wanted. 
  • I wouldn't trade my mini-van for an SUV for ANYTHING. (on a side note- we have a "no eating in the car" rule. It works and my car doesn't stink)
  • I don't like being barefoot in the house... or anywhere really. 
  • Speaking of feet, I skip the massage part of pedicures because my calves are too sensitive.
  • I hate bologna because when I was young and poor my mom made us eat it for lunch... for a week.
  • I have 5 tattoos.
  • I miss all my friends that I don't live near with such depth and intensity that it physically hurts to think about it. 
  • I would eat strawberry ice cream more if it didn't have those damn chunks of strawberries in it. Same thing for the jam. Trader Joe's is the ONLY place I'll buy strawberry jam from because it's smooth. 
  • I DO think my kids are the cutest things on the planet. In fact, my daughter is LUCKY she is so cute. Sometimes I'll ratty up her hair and smear jelly all over her face so I can stay mad at her. 
  • When I was younger I wanted to be a wife and mother when I grew up (thank you Mormon religion. I could have been an astronaut!!) So now, here I am... livin' the dream. 
  • Oh yeah, I was brought up Mormon, then came to my senses when I was 18. (no offense to my Mormon readers out there)
So there ya go. Everything you never cared about knowing about me. Next blog: our new school schedule and how I've deluded myself into thinking "this year is the year i'll get it right". 

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Why hello, Soapbox.

Today's blog is about Fashion. And how I LOATHE it. This is a rant. A very TRUE rant. 

Do you remember back in the day.... let's say middle school/junior high. (shout out to my middle school: Wasatch Middle)  There were the rich kids and there were poor kids. How did we tell them apart? Their clothes. In my day it was Girbaud Jeans, GAP, Espirit, and GUESS.  I had a GUESS shirt... but my mom got it for me at a thrift store. So yeah, I was one of the poor kids. 

When I was a Junior in high school, I had to write a report on a controversial subject. I chose the subject of "School Uniforms". I took the position of pro. I still stand by that position. If I had it my way all schools would require uniforms. I don't think I have to explain this to you. I'm hoping it's pretty obvious given the subject matter at hand. At any rate, that's a blog for another day, and it will mostly be copy and pasted from a letter I send to the PTA. Anyhoodle. 

Nowadays, it isn't so much as the name that's on your clothes anymore, it's the style. One minute leggings are in, the next wide leg jeans are in. Then they're out and jumpsuits are in. Next thing you know you're back to pegging your jeans and crimping your hair because "fashion" told you to do it, and you're out $500.

What the fuck is wrong with us? Why are we listening to these people??  It NEVER ends. And you know what else? We TOTALLY eat it up. We buy everything they tell us to, wear it how they tell us to, because we don't want to feel like the poor kid in middle school. We are a nation of "constantly trying to fit it in" people. Don't believe me? Look at those emo kids, the punks, the goths, the hipsters.... they're ALL trying so hard to be different that they end up all looking the same. That's why we're able to group them up so easily. 

Why can't we just wear the clothes that look good on our bodies? That fit our budgets? That feel good on our feet? Hair color, Hair style..... Jebus, HAIR STYLE! What ever happened to letting your hair do what it naturally wanted to do?  Not everyone has the face shape for for an A-line bob. 

Let's put this into perspective. How many girls have you seen in skinny jeans that should NOT be wearing skinny jeans? OK, now- how many girls (in real life) have you seen that DO look good in skinny jeans? SEE????? Pick anything! Leggings! Flats! Tunics! It's like we're waiting around for a style that suits our bodies. Why can't we just wear that all the time?

Last fall I bought a boat load of skinny jeans, then spring rolls around and they're all "wide legs pants are in!!" Great. $300 in jeans later I'm already out of style. I don't even look good in skinny jeans! (they may as well be leggings if you ask me) But I bought them anyway because everyone was wearing skinny jeans tucked into knee high boots. A look I ADORE actually. 

They change the fashion and style so they can make more money on us going out and revamping our closets. I get it. It's business. But why do we succumb to fashion that doesn't look good on us?? It's mind boggling. If I had my way (again- in my perfect world of school uniforms and me as a dictator) Loose levis would ALWAYS be in style and t-shirts would be the norm. Don't get me wrong- I love the idea of new ideas coming out every fall and spring. But to say something is OUT of style, is just mean. If I spent $100 on clothes I want those clothes to last a long time. I'm not buying clothes just to throw them out a year later because someone said it's not in style anymore. 

OK, now this is the part where I try to wrap all this up into one cohesive argument. 
If it looks good, if it feels good- we should wear it without being judged.

 And speaking of judging, DON'T EVER LISTEN TO SOMEONE WHO SAYS 
1) yes they do
2) they say that, then turn around and judge someone else. ??????????? seriously??

Leggings, you like 'em? Wear them. Fake nails, you like them? Wear them. White after labor day? Fuck it, wear it. WHATEVER. You know? This whole thing is so stupid. It's just a way to keep people separated into classes which is all a facade anyway. People who look like they have a lot of money are usually broke and thousands of dollars in debt. People who don't look like they have a lot of money are putting 2 kids through college, have a gigantic trust or are smart with their money. When are people going to realize that we need to judge people because they're assholes, not because they shop at Target? 

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

All about FUPA.

I know it doesn't look or feel like fall is around the corner, but trust me, IT IS.
So with that in mind my new fall wardrobe is something I'm mulling over at the moment. Every October, for my birthday, Big Daddy takes me fall shopping. Oh the coats! The BOOTS! The sweaters! (my favorite place to get new sweaters believe it or not is the Goodwill. They're already broken in, pre-shrunk, and about $5 a pop) ((no, Big Daddy does not take me shopping at the Goodwill))

The one thing I absolutely dread/loathe.... JEANS. At least, shopping for them. Since I had babies my body has changed. Morphed, if you will. Mutated even.  My waist is high, my belly button is low, my FUPA is prominent, my butt is, ahem, full and my hips have been opened. Where are the jeans for this body type?

I can read all the beauty/fashion magazines I want but there is NO WAY IN HELL I am wearing high waisted jeans. I only need one reason: my FUPA.
You know who looks good in high waisted jeans? Skinny bitches. You know who does not? FUPA owners. Who else? People prone to camel toe.

Then there is the low-rise jeans. Again, only skinny bitches can pull this off. On me? My FUPA turns into a muffin top. Not pretty. 

So what's between high waisted and low-rise? Mom Jeans. Who looks good in these? NOBODY. 

WTF? What am I supposed to do? Well, short of a tummy tuck, what am I suppose to do. Spanx? Tummy control jeans? Just say F it and buy more yoga pants? (ahhhh, talk about tummy control)

I'm at a loss. BUT, I know 99% of my readers are female. Of that 99% I'm willing to guess 97% are mothers.

So what jeans do you gals wear??

FUPA is not the technical term for it.
It's actually called a pannus. I couldn't
type that out without laughing so
I used the word FUPA instead.

My first baby was 9 pounds and stretched
the living hell out of me.
 Yes I need a tummy tuck.
That is how I know the technical term.