Direct communication is always best, but if you want to leave me a water balloon in the sink I will have to draw my own conclusions.

I've been having fantasies about going to this place:



photo courtesy:  www.cancuncd.com  That's Isla de Mujeres and I really want to go there.

I've even spent some *free* time seriously calculating costs for six people and it looks affordable....if we don't eat for a few months and I don't ever get a boob job.  (Not that a boob job was ever "on the table."  But, hypothetically speaking.  The vacation would be about as much as a boob job.  So, *I guess* it's either "boob job" or "island family vacation.") 

I've even gone so far as telling hubby about this little island family vacation fantasy of mine.

He is notoriously cheap, but I thought he was completely on board with it.

Until I woke up this morning and this was in the kitchen sink:

That is a water balloon and neither the kids nor I will claim placing it in the sink.

Hubby:  Are you trying to tell me something?  

Terrorized by a four year old. Or Hoarders, Part 2

So, I started doing this a few days ago.  It has been positively as joyful as bathing suit shopping for me.  On a related (kind of) note:  I chose not to buy suits this year because I thought I still had two gorgeous suits.  But, it seems the space between my neck and navel - some would call this The Bust - has shrunk.  To be safe I googled shrinking bust size.  This search yielded 1.  Shrinking building in Japan (which might mess with my mind the same way that my shrinking boobage has), and 2.  Another search where I found this sexpert Q&A  which basically says I should quit exercising in order to get what little boobage I had back.  So............................what?  Google:  YOU ARE CONFUSING AND I HATE YOU.

Anyway.

Recap:  I am decluttering my home space by space.  This is a torturous and often humorous (because torture and humor are so closely related) experience that has revealed some frightening things about my family.

1.  My four year old never stops talking.  Here's how "cleaning" has gone since her last day of school.

Her (speaking loudly from the other room):  Can we play a game?

Me:  No, baby.  Momma has to clean the entire house cabinet by cabinet.  Maybe when you are 24.

Her:  So, in a few minutes?

Me:  Maybe.

Her:  What does maybe mean again?  Yes? 

Me (making a stabbing motion through my heart):  Maybe means maybe yes or maybe no.  We'll see.

Her:  Okay.  Then, can we read a book?

Me (making a gun with my hand and pointing it toward my head):  Remember I'm cleaning so the water is running and I can't really hear you.  Come in here.

Her (skips into the kitchen):  Okay.  Can you hear me now?  Wow.  That stuff is really dirty.  Why is everything so gross?  When is the last time you did this?  Can we just move?

Me:  No.  We can't move, but I'm pretending we are moving just to keep me on my toes.

Her:  That doesn't make sense to me.

Me:  I know.  That's how cleaning is.

Her:  Why are you throwing away all of our baby dishes?

Me:  I'm not.  I am saving them for when you have babies.  Then you can give them to your babies.

Her:  Well, I'm glad mine's not blue because I am only having girls.

Me:  Well, you get what you get.  If you get a boy, you get a boy.

Her:  Well, if I get a boy, I'm sending him right back or giving him away.

Awesome.  So goes two minutes of cleaning.  We are sending away boy babies.

2.  The other day the kids came home and asked me what I had done all day.  I explained to them that I am on a mission to clean and declutter the house space by space and that this might take until they finish college.  

Girl 1:  Well, you could start by getting rid of these baby spoons.  I mean like, seriously mom?  Why do we still have these?

Boy Child:  Because, Girl 1!  Mom might have another baby.

Awesome, Part II.  This makes me both frightened for Boy Child that he thinks this is even possible at my age and also a bit horrified that the baby spoons are still in there.

3.  Yesterday I uncovered this:

Why?

Yes, that is 8000 plastic knives.  Cheesus.  Who does that???  Who has 8000 plastic knives (but no fork to save a life) in their house???  I am ready for the Mother Load of Church Picnics.....or something.

4.  Today I decided we'd had enough cleaning.  In one day I will have four kids underfoot for two and a half months and everything I have so dutifully cleaned is going to be filthy again in the first 24 hours of it.  So, I decided to go run the errands that have been piling up since...............November 2012.  We had 14 errands to run.  It was made slightly less painful by the fact that the credit union was selling chocolate popcorn for a dollar.  I was going to deposit my check, but instead I bought 589 bags of popcorn.  (JUST KIDDING!  I don't get paid that much, and besides, who can eat that much popcorn?!)  I bought Girl 3 a bag of popcorn and she was actually quiet and pleasant *almost* our entire trip.  Which leads to me to this:



These are "high waisted bathing suit bottoms."  Or, as Girl 3 called them, "Big, huge panties."  Thank you, Girl 3 for ruining what little self esteem I have left.

Yeah.  I bought these today with a top. 

"Oh, good.  I thought you weren't going to wear a top, mom," said Girl 3 in the Target changing room at the top of her lungs after opening the door on me while I was not clothed.  I hope hubby reads this post because I have a feeling he will call them "big, huge panties," too and then I will have to return them.

The end.  Boy Child "graduates" from fifth grade tomorrow with all the pomp and circumstance of The Royal Wedding.  I am hoping I don't cry like a crazy woman at a funeral.  Wish me luck.

You dropped a bomb on me, baby.

It's that time again.  Pre-Mother's Day Days wherein you discreetly drop hints about what you want like the dog discreetly drops fart bombs while he's presumably watching TV.

I'm making it easy this year and buying all my presents early.  Then I am going to wrap them in my favorite wrapping paper (probably the comics), put big Christmas bows on them and make tags that say, "To the best mom in the whole world.  We love you!"  Also, I might misspell some words just to add to the authenticity.

Here's what I'm getting so far:

1.  A good sports bra/s.  Now, I have needed some new sports bras for a while (sorry if that's TMI), but one recent incident spurred me into action.  A friend of mine was on TV while running.  Yes, you read that correctly.  TV news cameras filmed her while she was running - pushing her three? kids in a STROLLER (yeah, she's kind of like superwoman).  And, the next day instead of basking in the glory of her 15 seconds of fame her comment to a few of us was, "Man, I need a better sports bra."  I laughed pretty hard at that, but then I got serious and kind of freaked out.  What if I am filmed sometime soon running???  What would it be like???  It would be like (or, would have been like, since I've already started using my new bras - you're welcome) the song, "Do your ears hang low?"  Not pretty.

2.  A purse.  I think I've gotten a purse every Mother's Day since I became a mother.  That would add up to 11 purses if I bought the $400 kind, but since I don't it adds up to one purse.  But, it's cute:



www.squidoo.com  I don't think that's the one I actually got, but close enough and I'm too lazy to go take a photo of mine.

3.  I am getting a trip.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I am going on a trip.  By myself.  Without children. 

"Aw," you ask, "How is that for Mother's Day?" 

I know.  It's like when you secretly wish that for Mother's Day you could spend the day completely alone, right?  Who does that???  (Probably some evil people.  I've certainly never thought that.)  Okay.  So, my trip really isn't for Mother's Day, but kinda.  My niece over at Fit Foodies. Healthy Life. is tying the knot at this gorgeous place. 

Scroll through till you see the gal in the tub.  That's gonna be me.  Don't worry - I won't photograph myself....well, I might.  But, I won't post about it....unless I do.  I'll warn you first, though, so you can get ready to poke your eyes out with sharp sticks. 

Hubby gets to stay home with our four kids.  (WHEEEEE!  He's excited.)  I was careful to tell him, "It's okay, babe.  It's a round trip ticket."

4.  Another bathing suit.  So, remember last year?  When I almost proposed to the bathing suit saleswoman after she saw me naked?  Well, funny thing.  She gave me a little confidence in the area of shopping for bathing suits.  Possibly a little too much because now I really want one of these suits with "high waisted knickers." 


Apparently confidence when gotten at the hands of a blunt bathing suit saleswoman is dangerous.

Don't worry.  I'm waiting on this Mother's Day gift because 1.  I still have my winter weight and may keep it on through the summer, and 2.  These suits are not ruched in the bust, nor slimming in the waist, so I clearly would not be following her suit advice to me.

5.  Popcornopolis.  This may be a gateway drug, you guys.  Oh my GAWD.  My family and I are popcorn junkies.  If popcorn was illegal, we would all live in the pokey.  Now, I must confess, I've pretty much eaten all of this present, so the chance that it actually gets wrapped and given to me is slim to none (unlike my waistline after consuming it).  I am a bit of a popcorn snob if I've never told you guys.  I abhor microwave popcorn.  I only eat homemade or gourmet.  Recently we got a huge tin of this stuff which I thought was pretty great stuff.  But, I gotta tell you guys, Popcornopolis is DELICIOUS and way better.  I am deeply in love.  AND, I was researching important stuff on Pinterest last night and I found out there is an actual store in Austin.  So, since I already ate all of my present I told hubby and the kids that they are gonna take me there for Mother's Day!  (I know they're excited.)

That's it for now.  I'm sure I'll think of some more stuff I can't live without.  (Depending on their budget maybe a boob job to go with my new bras is in order?)  Happy Pre-Mother's Day Days!

it's a short list

So, today I am a few years past my thirtieth and a few years closer to my fiftieth.  Yes, that makes me a little dizzy.  If you're anything like me, after a certain age you might not want to even celebrate your birthday anymore.  It's just kind of another day that you'd rather just slip by so that you don't have to face the realization that you are one day closer to your imminent death (yes, I am the epitome of optimism). 

But, hubby is really great at buying me gifts and celebrating.  And the kids start asking way in advance if I'm gonna have a party with a pinata (um, no).  Hubby asks me what I want a few weeks before my birthday and just buys what I tell him.  Romantic?  No.  Practical?  Yes.

This year was no different.  I had kinda gone overboard buying myself Christmas gifts so I tried to really keep it simple.  So, I got some low-key, but great stuff that I really wanted.  I got another really warm scarf in a fabulous color because we have been having cold weather down here in south Texas and I hate cold weather.  I got some funky earrings that I've been wanting.  I got a Pay Day from the Boy Child because he could afford that and he knows Pay Days are one of my guilty pleasures.  I got some wonderfully smelling stuff from Bath and Bodyworks.  And hubby has a great sense of humor so he wrapped everything up in this fabulous bright pink tote (with an amazing number of pockets) that we got as a free gift for donating to a charity and gave all the gifts to me in that.

But, (everyone always has a big butt, right?) here's what I didn't get that I really wanted.  I didn't put any of this on the list, but I'm telling you guys.  So, if you can, help a sista' out?

The Unstated Real Birthday List

1.  I want my boobs back where they used to be.  And, while they (whoever's gonna do this for me) are at it, I'd also like them a titch larger than they are right now.  Y'know just to help me get some attention when I need it?

2.  I want my hair not to do this weird thing it's started doing called:  Growing right out of the front of my head.  WTH?  Is that some sort of old thing?

3.  This one is kinda for women only:  I'd like to be On the Cycle Again or Completely Off the Cycle instead of just every 78 days, or every 14 days, or every 112 days, or anytime my body thinks it's time again.  Yeesh.  I am ready to say good-bye to fertilehood for good.

4.  I'd like to be able to remember shiz without writing it down.  It's kind of annoying to have a memory that is only three seconds long.  And I am kinda tired of Girl 1 always accusing me of having early onset Alzheimer's.

5.  I'd really love to be able to text without my bifocals.  OLD PERSON ON BOARD.  Yeah, that's me.  Yeesh.  Embarrassing and cumbersome.  Oh, and I'd like to be able to text as fast as a tween.

6.  I want the skin on my hands back.  I have developed in the past five years this weird old people skin on my hands and I don't really like it.

7.  These dark circles under my eyes and wrinkles on my forehead need to be cleared up.  (I'm thinking when they are working on my boob concerns they can just skip up to my face and fix that.)

8.  I'd like my acute hearing back from the 80's.  Now, I've never really had great hearing.  If you're a long term reader you know that one of my greatest fears is going completely deaf by my fifties.  So, I'd really just like to be able to hear.  Everything.  Like a superpower.  Or, just like a regular human.

9.  I'd like to be able to drink the amount of beer I want without it going directly to my belly in record time.  Remember the good 'ole days when you could stay out all night drinking and not feel any repercussions?  Yeah, I want those days back.

10.  And, just because I'm a stickler for even numbers.  I'd like to eat all the chocolate I want just once.  Doesn't everyone want that?

11.  Oh, and one more.  I'd really like to get the rest of my life figured out.  Seriously?  What am I going to be when I grow up?  (I'm sure hubby would like me to figure that out, too.)

So, friends.  Happy birthday to me!  Don't worry - I won't put candles on my cake.  Safety first! 

8. Barbie scares the Little People

Since I already told you about my premature post-aculation (I *may* have just changed the name of the disease), I thought I'd share another deeply personal side of myself (consider yourself warned).  For a long time I was a staunch Barbie-hater.  So much so that Barbies were not allowed in my home, I forbid, forbode, forgave, forbade my son to ever marry a Barbie, and I told my girls that if they ever became Barbies as grown up women I would write them out of my will (wait, I have a will?) and basically ex-communicate them from my family. 

I don't know where this hatred came from.  I was allowed to play with Barbies as a child.  I really loved them.  In fact, when I tried to make one of my Barbies look more like me by washing her hair (thereby turning it brown) and chopping her some bangs - I am pretty sure my mom was pissed. 

It's not that I am prejudice, either.  Some of my best friends are Barbies............wait a minute.  None of my best friends are Barbies.  Maybe it is prejudice.  Whatever. 

Here's the important part!

Good news:  I have overcome my hate and allowed Barbie into my home.  Bad news:  I still hate her.

Here's why:

1.  She's always naked.  Seriously?  How old is this freakin' girl???  She can't dress herself???  STILL???  She wears me out.

2.  She looks like a hooker, dresses like a hooker, behaves like a hooker, and YET she's a doctor/veterinarian/lawyer/teacher???  I don't get it.

3.  She has unnaturally huge boobs with no nipples.  As a young girl that kind of creeped me out.  Twenty years later as a mother of three girls, it still creeps me out.  It's like an episode of Nip/Tuck meets Extreme Makeover.  Eww.

4.  This may be excessively prudish of me (and, yes, I have been known at times to be an excessive prude), but it still feels weird when Boy Child or Girl 3 see Barbie hanging out.  Naked.  (Because remember #1?  SHE'S ALWAYS NAKED.)  I want to either shield their eyes or quickly run to get Barbie a robe.

5.  She seems to live a charmed life of fashion, a great job, a cool car and house, gorgeous, sleek hair, big boobs (albeit with no nipples - still a teensy bit jealous), and a great profession (doctor, teacher, vet, lawyer).

6.  One size does not fit all.  I'll be damned if Santa didn't spend a gazillion dollars buying Barbie clothes (in the hope that she would STAY clothed) only to find that Barbie is apparently modeled after Sophie Dahl and has had a range of sizes.  This would be refreshing (to know that Barbie actually had weight change in her life span - like actual women) except that the sizes that Barbie has gone from range from -10 to 0.  Good money - DOWN THE DRAIN.

7.  Beach Barbie (who was purchased with some of the Christmas money from Grandpa - which just seems like a sin) has super huge feet.  Damn her.  None of the regular Barbie shoes fit her.  In the dramatic words of Girl 1 (after attempting to cram poor Beach Barbies' Goliath feet into some cute little size 0 hooker pumps):  Mom, she's not normal.  Her feet are just not small enough.  Can I cut them???  Yeah, that girl's not going to need a therapist later.

And the last and probably most important reason that I still hate Barbie:

She got drunk, took her clothes off (not necessarily in that order), broke down the door of the Little People house, and passed out in their living room.  They were confused and more than a little scared.

Dear Santa, Would it be too much to ask?

Every year, typically around the 16th, I get asked what I want for Christmas.  This is usually after all the cookies are baked and decorated, presents are bought and half of them are usually wrapped, school Holiday parties are attended, recitals are done, Christmas clothes are purchased (and if we are lucky - matching!), tamales are ordered, cards are sent (well, mostly), token gifts for the neighbors are ready to be passed out (If you are a neighbor reading and you don't get one of those, remember: this blog is mostly true.) etc., etc.  And my usual answer is:  I have everything I want.  Oh, vomit, right?  So, this year I decided to veer greatly of course.  Without being prompted about two weeks ago, I made and submitted (To hubby - I don't fully trust Santa because he wears those shiny, white gloves.) this list:

(Carefully not numbered to avoid sounding greedy.)

• bras (Because when do we, as women, not need those?)
• panties (Ditto and preferably not edible or crotchless - ew!  Sorry.)
• a Keurig coffee maker (No, I don't already have one of those.  If you would like an address to make donations to make this a reality - let me know!)
• make-up that is not crusty because I am pretty sure that's not how make-up is supposed to be
• slippers - the warm kind with animal bodies (Not real animals - don't call PETA.  Although, since I have never tried the real animal kind I cannot really speak against it.)
• a nice, big purse (one that holds snacks, feminine products, deodorant, cologne - that I'm getting - a styling brush, a spare pair of panties - FOR THE KIDS, wipees, etc.)
• cologne
• work-out clothes
• new pajamas
• fashionable boots
• a winter coat
• a stapler that I don't have to smack each time I staple something
• a decent pencil sharpener (yes, I still use pencils)
• a lot of James Avery jewelry
• accessories (any kind, really)

Even now as I look back at this list I am surprised at how shocking it is - to me.  Now, here's the part that is really shocking.  I have purchased nearly everything on the list already!  Shame on me!?  Possibly.  I am still thinking about it.

But, here's the REAL reason for the post.  Sorry.  I am in a meandering sort of mood.  THIS is the list that is not being submitted because it is truly too much to ask..............for even SANTA with his white, shiny gloves.

(And yes, I numbered this one so that just in case Santa is one of my blog readers he won't think I am too greedy.)
What I Would Really Like for Christmas

1.  Sleep.  Like for a long time.  Till I am ready to get up.  AND THEN, no talking until I have had as much coffee as I would like (Keurig coffee or Starbucks).  AND THEN, my breakfast brought to me.
2.  Weight loss without exercise.  I really hate exercise. 
3.  A call from a publisher offering me a million dollar advance on my parenting book..
4.  Calorie-less beer that tastes great and actually combats bloating and aging.
5.  A personal bartender (that looks like Johnny Depp and brings his own liquor - because liquor is not cheap).
6.  A personal assistant who while doing all my crap for me also teaches me how to do it for myself (kind of like the whole teach a girl to fish thing) so that I can eventually say goodbye to him (cause personal assistants are a little creepy) and voila I am an assistant to MYSELF.  And if this person could make me crafty and able to do all home improvement that would be great, too.  (AND if he has to look like Johnny Depp, too, that's cool).
7.  To be like Samantha from Bewitched and have all the Christmas decorations put themselves away after Christmas by just crinkling my nose or snapping my fingers.
8.  Ditto for making my kids behave.
9.  World peace (See Santa - I am not a total schmuck.)
10.  Big boobs and flawless skin (Okay - maybe I am.)

I've been mostly nice this year, so we'll see how it all works out.  Update on the 26th.  Be merry, friends!

P.S. - Santa might ruin your life.

So, let me just say:

1.  It was brought to my attention yesterday that I have a pastor for a reader (Thank you, pastor for reading my blog.  I am honored and was just wondering - while you are reading my blog - could you put in a good word for me with The Big Man?).
2.  After my post yesterday I felt compelled to tell you that I love my children dearly (and not just because they give me 99.9% of my blog material.)
3.  There are so many post scripts to yesterday's post about big boobs and being NOT Jewish that I may have a new chapter for my book.  Aren't you glad you stumbled over to your laptop and pulled up my blog?  Because you are going to get it first (I know, I am too generous.)

P.S. Santa Might Ruin Your Life

The conversation that follows occurred after a deep conversation about the reality of Santa.  Now, I am one of those joy-sucking parents who wish that my kids would just stop believing in Santa and get it the hell over with.  (I am sure you are surprised.)  Keeping up the Santa rouse for me is frankly exhausting.  My nine year old Boy still firmly believes in Santa, his eight flying reindeer, and I think, the Abominable snowman.  Girl 1 stopped fully believing in Santa a long time ago.  There are just too many unresolved issues for her (and I quote): 

• Mom, reindeer can't fly.
• We don't have a chimney and we always keep our doors locked.  Are you telling me Santa has a key to every one's house?  Is he like a burglar that gives?
• Where does he shop?
• Are elves dwarfs?  Real live dwarfs?  Are they the Oompa Loompas???  I just don't believe that.  Where did they come from? 

So, back to the conversation that ensued:

Girl 1 - Momma, I just had a horrifying thought.

Me (seriously afraid to ask) - Oh.  What baby?

Girl 1 - What if you get married, have kids, and you and your husband or wife really still believe in Santa.  So, since you believe in Santa you don't buy any of your kids any presents because you are sure Santa will take care of them.  And your kids believe in Santa.  But, then THERE IS NO SANTA.  So, on Christmas morning your kids wake up and they don't have any presents??????

Now, this was one of those times that I had so many things I wanted to say that I was rendered speechless.  Here are some of the things that were going through my head:  There are kids that don't ever get any Christmas presents and you know what - that's horrifying.  Santa is NOT real.  It's all momma and daddy, so that's also horrifying.  If two people have kids and those two people STILL BELIEVE IN SANTA - that is not only horrifying, but we got more problems than those kids not getting any presents.  No worries.  I didn't say any of that.  Instead I said:

Wow.  Then those parents would be in a tight spot, huh?  Now let's turn off the light and go to bed!

Girl 1 - So, mom - IS SANTA REAL OR IS IT JUST YOU AND DAD???

Me - Well, baby I will say what I say every time you ask me:  Do you believe in Santa?

Now, this answer is entirely unsatisfying for me.  I just hate it, but frankly I can't think of a better one and I am too tired to think anymore about it. 

Girl 1 - So, is Jesus real?  C'mon just tell us.

Say what?  How did Jesus get dragged into this?  I'm sorry, dude!  Now, what ensued is just too detailed and sketchy (due to my lack of actual knowledge) to relate here.  So, I will summarize what I said.  (What I think I said - again, my lack of actual knowledge sometimes confuses the details.):

• Jesus lived.  Then he died.  Then we and certain other people (called Christians) believe he rose from the dead and was the son of God.
• Santa lives in your heart if you believe in him.
• He also maintains a residence at the North Pole.  I think.
• Jerusalem is a real place.
• Jesus doesn't live in Jerusalem anymore.  Remember he died and then rose and now he lives in your heart?
• Jesus gets along with Santa and there is room in your heart for both of them.
• I don't actually know any reindeer that can fly.
• We kind of have Jesus' playbook.  It's called the bible.  I don't know of any playbook for Santa.
• Santa did not write the bible.  Neither did Jesus.
• Not all stories in the bible are real nor should we take them all as real events that actually happened.
• I am not sure what Jewish people think of Santa. 
• I am pretty sure Jews like Hanukkah.
• I am pretty sure Jonah and the Whale is not one of the more true stories in the bible.

That's all I got, friends.  I pray we have closed the book on Santa and boobs for a while.  And, I am going to try and keep Jesus safe.  Peace.