June 2008 Archives

Every mom, especially stay-at-home moms go through a fashion funk. Perhaps some of us - ahem - me, stopped at fashion funk and stayed a while. I'm working it out, y'all.

I think I'm doing okay for myself these days. I'm more of a cazh type. I like my flip flops in the summer with light sneakers on the side for when the opportunity to chase the occasional child may arise. In the winter, well, it's whatever fits around 2 pairs of wool socks.

So, the other day, at the gym, I noticed my pal - we'll call her DesignDiva - (wink wink) has really consistently stepped her wardrobe up with fancy things like cute summer dresses, and sweet wedge sandals. And she was all up in her accessories even dorning dangly earrings.

I say to her, "You're developing a pattern. You're ruining the curve for the rest of us in mommy attire."

To which she replies, "I've been experimenting and it turns out that when I've got my make-up & hair done. When I'm all put together, my kids listen better."

I'm pretty sure if I walked out and told the kids to get in the car authoritatively while wearing a strapless summer dress with hihg-heeled sandals and earrings no less, they would a) laugh at me and then b) ask me where I'm going with daddy and if a babysitter is coming over. For sure they damn sure wouldn't have done what I asked, which was get in the effn car! But they would tell me I looked beautiful. They do that already.

Besides, wearing a strapless dress would only confirm a wardrobe malfunction since there is nothing but my shoulder blades to hold it up. And really, wearing heels, at 6'3"? I'm gonna say no on that one.

DesignDiva did have a great point, though. It really makes sense. Tshirt, jeans and flip flops, with no makeup and hair in a tiny pony tail that keeps falling out gets no respect - especially from 5 year olds. The construction guys don't even bother looking.

When I quit work, I was so happy to get rid of my work wardrobe, and liberate from the dress code. They frowned on flip flops and I had to get a doctors note to wear sneakers when pregnant with twins, but WHATEVER! Indeed, there is a mommy dress code too. We owe it to ourselves to feel good. I owe it to my kids too, because I make them wash their face and brush their teeth. And I fight daily with Lucy as to how and why we're doing her hair that way. So, why not put up or shut up, right? It wouldn't hurt to brush my hair and throw on a little lip gloss each day for Ricardo's sake too. When you look sloppy, you feel sloppy, you act sloppy.

So, mommy will perk up, and dress up. Maybe even iron. Okay, that's way too far. It's summer, I have my limits.

That's how I roll.

Today is my birthday, or as I like to remind my pal WillyT,Esq. - it's halfway to Christmas. He's a Christmas cheer fun-hater, so I like to rub it in. Because since I didn't have a brother growing up, I picked WillyT,Esq. to adopt as my bro. I never really asked him, just did it - with mind bullets. And you gotta raz your brother about all the little things that bug him, including premature Christmas celebration.

WillyT, Esq. has already personally delivered my birthday gift - the gift of bedazzling my blog. You like? But even more, I got to watch him hang out with my kids. Including the part where Max schooled him with some Sonic The Hedgehog video game. My 5-year-old kicked his butt. Lucy gave WillyT,Esq. great insight that indeed, she is me, but thank God she's way cuter. And that type of behavior, it turns out, is way more appropriate coming from a 5 year-old. The greatest gift was WillyT,Esq. spending time with my kids.It was just fun to watch. I've been telling him how cute and fabulous they are over the phone, but it's just best that he gets to see it for himself. Recognize the greatness in person. I think he called to check if he could get an earlier flight out, but to no avail.

Max and Lucy are driving me crazy. I've been home with them on their summer break for approximately 3 weeks, and the "I can't wait to spend summer with the kids and do so many fun things with them" has totally worn off. I'm guessing it's because we've been home waiting on this or that appointment, Max has had a bizarre stomach bug and it's been raining. Not all at once, oh no, if Max is feeling okay, then it's raining out, and if it's not raining out and everyone feels fine, then lo, we're waiting on the fireplace guy, chimney guys, the ac guy, or some other guy. Funny, we haven't waited on the laundry guy...maybe we should.

I find myself lecturing them...a lot. I'm sick of hearing myself. So, tomorrow, for my birthday, we will do something that involves activity and distraction, and perhaps access to a stiff gin & tonic - for me, not them. Maybe we'll just hang out at the gym all day. Workouts in the morning (the kids have a rigorous schedule too, you know). Then lunch, then swimming until they beg me to go home. I've requested a fancy dinner with the whole crew.

Usually, I like to prep everyone for my birthday. But this one has quite frankly creeped up on me. I suppose the more you celebrate your 29th birthday, the more complacent you get with it. I'm probably too young to say this, but due to recent events, I gotta say, I'm just happy to have another birthday. Every day with these kids, even when they are driving me crazy, is such a gift.

This morning, I woke up to my freshly brewed birthday coffee and discovered I was out of coffee creamer. To some, this may seem like no big deal, but it is to me, and it IS my birthday! So, I went to the store and got some more. Then I walked by CokeZero with Vanilla, YUM! So, i grabbed that. And hey, is that toaster strudels....it IS my birthday! As soon as I got home, everyone was awake and singing Happy Birthday to me. Max did a finale where he stood on a stool to kiss me after wards. He timed it perfectly. Today is indeed a gift.

That's how I roll.

As a writer - or just some yappy chick with a blog - I find it difficult to even admit that at this moment, I'm at a loss for words. I have been for quite some time. Ultimately, my dear friend -Carrie's brain tumor has become an overwhelming struggle. Carrie is still going strong. However, they've explained that there is simply no need for the Chemo anymore. Aside from that, I feel, out of respect for Carrie and all that her family, Yallison and I are going through right now, it's just time for once in my life to shut up about the details. Because really, all there is in the future is the unknown. No one knows what to expect. So, please keep her in your heart and your prayers.

That's what's up with her. But it's completely affected me. Every aspect of my life seems to be in deep thought and concern. But I'm helpless. I want to run down there and fix everything, but there is simply nothing to fix. I'm completely consumed by this. Carrie, you see, has been a constant in my life, my kids' lives. The beauty in all this is that there's three of us. So, Yallison and I are doing a good job of leaning on each other. We've played volleyball together, ditched boyfriends together, run together, been in each other's weddings, baby showers and baptisms, and just stuck together. We're not just some trivial bff's. There's so much more. And the hardest thing about this is trying to forget the last visit I had with her, which was hard. I feel like I've already lost her.
There is hope. It's a glimmer, but it's there.
The thing to me is, we are 34 effn-years old. If you'd asked me in high school while we were spraying our hair with AquaNet to get those 80s bangs as high as possible, I'd have never guessed a) the state was going to allow me to have children and 2) that we'd be dealing with brain cancer....at 34. WTF has never had more significance.
I find myself wanting to call her dad 4-5 times a day and ask what's going on now. How about now? How is she now? I also find myself in a funk that if I don't let my kids pull me out of it, I'm taking it out on them. I'm trying hard to not let that happen, but it has just consumed me. As a mom, I have to buck up. So, I will just let these kids help me out of the funk.
I've explained to them that Carrie is sick again and won't get any better. They took it into stride, and then asked if they could have a fruit snack. Yes you can sweetie. I posted this because it's part of being a mom, it's definitely the on the rocks part. It's part of dealing with life as a mom who depends heavily on her girl-power friends.
That's how I roll.

Most of y'all know how I feel about Matt Lauer, but the reason I feel that way - you know that they hired him for his great hair, and then when he lost that, they felt obligated to keep him around, and so SOMEONE MUST HAVE then coached him to get more sound clips than the people he's actually interviewing - is because I am a Journalism major. And then NBC hired Kathy Lee Gifford. Apparently NBC Executive positions are being taken over by meteorologists, i.e. destined and totally okay with failure.

It's a wonder I even watch NBC since Friends is over and all. But the only thing that keeps me coming back, is the only journalist on the planet that's any good. That does a real interview, that listens to the answers, that leads by his actions. The last and only great journalist has died, Mr. Tim Russert - of a sudden heart attack. I am absolutely devastated by this- enought that it's taken me two weeks to articulate a post. America is too. Including all the ego-mongrel "journalists" out there now. Those dorks should be ashamed because they too are now grieving, "they knew him, they loved him. he taught them so much"
Really? Because you're still an asshole with great hair, and now, we have nothing. Absolutley nothing. We have not one journalist that is honest, raw, fair and correct. I for one, liked his almost-messy hair. It spoke bounds about his actions, really. It really is a loss for America.

It's a little too close to home for me as well, for his son - Luke Russert. This month, is the 3rd anniversary of my dad's death, and the 1st anniversary of a dear friend of our family's death, both from heart attacks.

So, Luke Russert, I'll tell you all this:From one devastated child who lost their dad suddenly to a heart attack and didn't get to say goodbye- to another. I'm so deeply sorry for your loss and all of the private grief you will experience. I had the luxury of privacy. You've got the media covering everything your dad did. You've handled yourself in public with amazing poise. That there is no doubt in your heart that your dad loved you, was so proud of you, that will help bounds. Know that the pain never quite goes away. It still takes my breath away three years later. And as close as you and your father were, you'll find a wholly awesome bond with him now, that is indescribable.

That's how I roll.

This guy received the Championship trophy and then shook hands with that very hand you see there...in his crack. Eww.

Today, in a haze, I watched Nadal anhialate Federer. I just like to watch tennis and think I can play like that. I'm guessing my bent racquet has a different story.

I was in a haze because I'd slept in the basement with my family last night. The tornado missed us, but (insert sarcastic tone here) thanks for all the calls of concern from family and friends. By "missed us" I mean, it was a city block away. Once the electricity came back on, I updated myself on the news and discovered that the sirens sounded after the tornado blew threw.

So, I was running on empty, reloading with my coffee when I came across the French Open Championship. And I'm shocked at a few things, the least being the ass whipping that Federer got. The other shocking things are that this guy- Nadal is wearing tight capris. Never trust a man who works out in capris is all I'm sayin. And then, about the 3rd set, he starts digging for gold...in his pants. Is he doing what I think he's doing? Why yes he is? And all I have to say to that is, if he's willing to wear FITTED capris, then he should consider a thong. He'll get used to it and stop digging in between points. I'm sure of it.

That's how I roll.

These numbers "2" and "3" represent the levels of which this guy's balls are being crushed.

I hate cycling. Seriously. I hate it. I promised Julz(Holla!) I'd try a spinning class with her a few months ago, and couldn't sit down for a week.

So, the other day, when I promised Max when we had some time, just the two of us, we could do whatever he wanted, and he said a bike adventure at the park, I winced thought of a way to get out of it, and then kept my promise. Son of a Bitch. How do people do this? I rode leisurely through the park for maybe 30 minutes, and once again, cannot sit down...three days later. I need a donut. I've been sitting on a Boppy.

Apparently, I have the most sensitive "lady parts" ever...on the planet. I just can't do it. One of the ladies in the spinning class said you have to just keep doing it to get used to it. Um, thank you, but I don't want to get used to that. That's one area I wish to not de-sensitize. I'd like to keep those parts, uh, as sensitive as possible.

That's how I roll. (Just no rolling on a bike is all I'm sayin.)

I liked this movie because this flawless character reminded me of my Ricardo. And really, the whole fashion stuff - I think we can all agree that it's not my gig. But my Ricardo is just as dreamy with all the right lines as this guy.

This past weekend, I had the great pleasure of road tripping with 3 lovely friends of mine for what I refer to as a "Brace yourself for 24/7 with your kids cuz schools over, summer is here - preparatory weekend". And since it was a weekend full of hormones, spa treatments and shopping, we checked into the hotel, and went straight to the late show of Sex and the City. Because after all, we could stay up as late as we wanted, sleep all night long without taking one kiddie to the potty or scare off monsters at midnight, and then sleep in. Wheeee!

I never watched the Sex and the City tv show, so much in fact, I thought it was called Sex IN the City. Which would be a much different show, I'm sure. We got there late, because, we needed popcorn, duh. So, we had to sit on the front row. The last time I sat on the front row, it was for the premier release of E.T. Extra Terrestial. And it was by choice. This, we settled for.

If you haven't seen the movie yet, trust me when I say, there are close ups in this movie that indeed, the back row, in the next theater would suffice. On the front row, it's outright offensive.A couple of times, I thought, "What's that, OH MY GAWD" and then "MY EYES! MY EYES AAAAAACCCCCCKKK MY EYES." But only a couple of times. Ultimately, and I love Sarah Jessica Parker, but really, she's got some pretty good man hands. I would have never noticed had my neck not been bent back at a 90 degree angle. Sarah, if you're reading this, does it help to know that Kim Catrell looked really tall and had really really wide shoulders? Or that Candice Bergen had put on a little weight - for the role of this movie?

From a non-Sex And The City tv show watcher, I give this movie 2 thumbs way up. It was worth sitting on the front row for those crazy scenes and it was worth the $10. Yep, $10 - apparently the price of movies has gone up because of the exhorbant amount of inflation to truck in all that popcorn. Seriously. "Why not just raise the price of the popcorn, then?" I asked. "We did that too." Oh, okay, that makes sense.

The movie was worth it because I was with three ladies that are more magnificent in character than even the writers for movies could develop. And being the only female 30 something that never watched the tv show -it is, in my very humble opinion, the next great girlfriend movie. You can put it right up there with Beaches, Steal Magnolias, Thelma & Louise, The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. It was a perfect weekend. But the movie is all I can tell you about. Everything else I'm vowed to my girls and/or court ordered not to talk about.
Hey, whatever I need to do to reach the goal. And I'm now ready for my kids 24/7 summer.

That's how I roll.