Manic Mom's Mental Myriads

SuaVe Day oF BeauTy

2010-02-06T19:13:00.002-06:00

So, some girly friends and I had a chance to check out Suave's new line of products coming out and I got to host a little soiree where we played beauty parlor. Full disclosure: I've been using all sorts of Suave products my whole life including shampoos, conditioners, hairsprays, deodorants, so it's not like I was trying anything new and amazing. I already know the products are amazing, and the value and quality of Suave has always been right up there, but in the next month, they're debuting some great new scents in their Professionals shampoo/conditioner line like Rosemary Mint, Almond & Shea Butter, Aloe Vera & Ginsing, and they smell fantabulous.

A few of us SAHMs in the 'hood got together with the help of my professional stylist from Zano's now-mom-of-four and of course, there had to be cocktails and food! We had a lot of fun playing with the products and our hair, taking pics, and of course, creating unique and tasty cocktails. I called this one the IDK Champagne Fruitastic Smoothie because I have no idea what the hell I put into it, but it was DELICIOUS! And yep, we were drinking at 10 a.m. Hey, it was a FRIDAY!

Who says you can't have a Suave party at ten in the morning? You'll have great hair all day long!

Here are some of the Before and Afters and pics from our day! We all tried to make pretend 'frownie' faces like they do in the 'Before' pictures in magazines which was completely hysterical because YOU try to frown while getting your photo taken - it is NEARLY impossible!

Thanks Suave! We had a great time!

Manic Mom

2005-12-04T22:09:00.000-06:00

Lives Here Now (anonymously, of course!)

Still Looking?

2005-11-14T09:28:00.000-06:00

Find The New Blog

2005-11-10T23:16:00.000-06:00

Manic Mom's Mental Myriads now resides elsewhere. I'm still out there, but I've joined the Blog Land Witness Protection Program.

Remember, I am a manic mommy and I'm sure you'll be able to find me! And it's okay if my mom finds me too, really. I've got nothing to hide. Or do I?

True / False Answers

2005-11-10T19:56:00.000-06:00

This Post Has Joined The Ranks of The Others Previous.

The Best Rejection To Date Is Here:

2005-11-09T22:18:00.000-06:00

You know what? I expect rejection letters. I know they are part of the process of getting an agent, of finding the right match for your work. You have to find someone as passionate about your book as you are and that's really, really hard to do. And I'm okay with that. It's like online dating, or regular dating, or making friends, or blog dating, or mating... whatever. You have to find the right match. It's got to be a "Ying and Yang thang." Or something like that.

But this here is the most absurd rejection in the entire world. I think so anyway. And this is my blog so I can think anything I want to.

So, I send Prominent New York Agent a query -- a short, simple one, with not a lot of info, and asked if she would be interested in reading more.

This is the blurb (in case there are any agents out there looking for my book... hee hee):

Ellen McMillan’s plan for the next forty weeks didn’t involve tip-toeing around her infertile sister, getting black-balled from Thursday night happy hour, and spending a week in Jamaica sober. But because of the Two Hearts pregnancy test, she’s becoming a different woman, complete with a new set of boobs and a blooming uterus. Ellen’s got more than her share of pregnancy woes–her OB makes her insides flutter (and it’s not because the baby’s kicking!), her pregnant boss thinks motherhood and career are not synonymous, and her husband is suddenly MIA, both emotionally and physically. She’s in a constant state of panic, thanks to a premonition from a stranger, a medical test gone awry, and the discovery of a family secret kept far too long. How in the world can Ellen make it through the next four days let alone the next forty weeks?

So, this is the response I get from Prominent New York Agent, which was very timely and honest, to give her credit:

I’m sorry; as a woman who plans to never have children, this just doesn’t resonate with me. But thanks very much for giving me a chance.

WTF?

She is a literary agent. Does this mean because she never plans on murdering anyone, she is not interested in representing murder mysteries. Since she is not a man, is she not interested in anything a man would write? Does this mean that since she is heterosexual (I'm assuming), any book with gay characters would be disregarded immediately, and thrown into the Slush Pile? Since she is a literary agent, does this mean any book with a main character with a job unrelated to publishing or writing would not resonate with her?

I so just don't get it. And, if she is choosing not to have children, that's fine, that's her own business, but I have never met a parent who has said, "Oh, I wish I didn't have kids." I have met plenty of people who have said, "Oh, I wish I didn't have this job I have."

Prominent New York Agent seems pretty close-minded to me. But, who am I to say what resonates with her doesn't resonate with someone else. It's just a great, big, grandeous mystery to me. And wouldn't it be HILARIOUS if someday my book would become a BEST-SELLER, and I could do interviews and say, "Oh, Prominent New York Agent didn't even want to read my book because it's about a woman who has a baby." And she would be kicking herself because she would have gotten fifteen percent of a Best-Selling book about a mom, and we all know how boring books like that can be.

That would be soooo cool.

The Joy Of The Sense Of Smell... Or Not.

2005-11-09T14:12:00.000-06:00

I smell like how a wet dog smells after chasing a ball into a lagoon, running circles around a skunk and then rolling into a pile of dirt.

I think I should go shower.

Confessional Tuesday

2005-11-08T20:44:00.000-06:00

Well, I have spent all day thinking of something really juicy, intriguing, mind-blowing to share on this here, the second-ever Confessional Tuesday ever, and I got nuthin'.

I am a boring person with no secrets.

I'm trying to dig down really deep to come up with some good smut I haven't already shared with you guys. But, I've already told you how my younger brother (then five) caught me and the boyfriend in a compromising situation; I already told you when and where I lost my virginity; I already spill my guts every time I "spill my guts." I share my "fictional" accounted excerpts of stuff; I tell you every time I have a fantastic dream about an ex-boyfriend.

I am an open book who pores her soul out to all who will listen. (Oh, and by the way, that pour / pore thing always gets me in print. I think it should be "pour" as in "spill" but is it really "pore" as in... okay, no, now I am really confused -- I think it's:

She will pour her soul... pore her soul... fuck it... I empty my soul out to all who will listen.

Having said all that, I've decided to host a little True or False on Confessional Tuesday.

Which of the following are TRUE; Which are FALSE?

1. My brother nicknamed me Whale-Bone-Whaler when we were younger, deriving it from the ever-popular fish sandwich at Burger King.

2. I've never had sex in a swimming pool.

3. None of my children weighed over eight pounds.

4. Only three boyfriends ever told me they loved me.

5. Two of them were saying it just to get somewhere.

6. I must use two separate knives for the peanut butter and the jelly.

7. I'll eat any vegetable as long as it has butter or cheese on it.

8. I once suffered from anorexia.

9. I have worn glasses / contacts since I was 13.

10. My teeth are as straight as they were when the permanent ones arrived.

11. I spend way too much money at the cosmetic counter.

12. I have never done chemically-created illegal drugs.

13. The first boy I ever French kissed was named Carter Ganada.

14. I still own the shirt I was wearing the night I met Hubby.

15. I hate cranberry juice.

16. I have thrown up on a plane, ship, car and bus all within a 24-hour period.

17. My first job out of college was as an editor for a small newspaper.

18. I have never been on a blind date.

19. I can count on two hands the number of... well, you know.

20. I used to collect mirrors until I got tired of looking at myself.

21. The first time I got my hair highlighted, I was 30.

22. I have been arrested one time.

23. If given the choice, I would spend the whole day at one of the following places:
Beach
Barnes & Noble
Bed

24. I used to want to be an artist.

25. I used to want to be a dentist.

See, how boring is this? Eleven of them are false.

Confessional Tuesday

2005-11-08T08:16:00.000-06:00

Seems like just yesterday I told you about the Woobie, and here it is, another Tuesday and I've got to confess something. Problem is, now that my mom is on to me, I have to confess something probably not worth confessing, something that if Mom reads, she can be like, "Oh, good, she's not talking about the topaz thing anymore."

So, what to confess, what to confess?

Anyone want to know anything specific that is Blog-Mom-Sensitive?

Slowly But Surely...

2005-11-07T14:47:00.000-06:00

I am adding LINKS to you Blogger Pals. If you don't see your name to the right, no worries -- this is a work in progress, and I'm trying to get as many of you up as I can. If you hadn't noted that you want to be linked, and want to be linked here, leave me a comment and I'll add you.

On that note, I'm also working on building up my Web site and wonder if you can help out. If you're a regular reader, would you mind leaving a quick, short quote on your thoughts on Manic Mom so I can include on my Web page for the Blog? Send these to the comments section. (You know, something like, "Manic Mom makes me snort coffee out of my nose when I read her." That kind of stuff. None of the usual, "She sucks and she's an alcoholic-pill-popper," although, that might get me more readers!)

Thanks for your help guys! You rock! Also, Dating Dummy tried to help Computer Dummy figure out how to include a link here with my email address but Computer Dummy can't figure out how to do it, so any of you smart-techie-bloggers out there want to give me directions, that would be cool.

WTF?

2005-11-07T09:11:00.000-06:00

Okay, can anyone tell me, How The Hell Does This Happen?

Could It Be Any More Depressing?

2005-11-06T12:57:00.000-06:00

Gosh, I just went to the grocery store and I'm thinking, "Man, how depressing." The music they were playing over the intercom was just unbearable. If I were a single person, I would be crying in Aisle Five for sure.

First off, they played Open Arms by Journey. There is a particular ex of mine with whom anything by Journey stirs up crazy emotions. And I had had an incredibly 'interesting' dream last night that further added to these strange feelings. Then, Open Arms ended and Annie Lenox's "No More I Love Yous" comes on. Then, Tears for Fears, "Sowing The Seeds of Love" is on. Geeze, I would hate to be a person going through a break-up, being all depressed, not able to eat, and then finally being brave enough to continue on with my life, go to the grocery store to purchase something to eat since I hadn't been able to eat in so long because I was depressed over getting dumped and then going to the store and hearing all this sob-story music. Cripes. Why can't they play fun music, to get you bopping around the aisles, like B-A-N-A-N-A-S, or some Reggae music or the soundtrack of Grease, or some other stuff to make you feel happy about grocery shopping.

But, one thing that did make me happy was that at our grocery store, they have an in-store Starbucks. And after you purchase seven coffees, your next one is free. Guess what? I hit the jackpot this a.m. when it was announced that I would not have to pay for my grandenonfatsugarfreevanilla(NOWHIPBECAUSEIAMNOWCOUNTINGWEIGHTWATCHERPOINTS)latte, and since it was free, "Would I like a venti instead of a grande?"

Uh, duh. Supersize me baby!

So, maybe the venti coffee is what is making me spew out these words like they're the most valuable words I have ever written. On a side-note, my newest vice is to have a tallgrandenonfatsugarfreevanillanowhip, and then to go through the McDonald's drive-through and get a SuperSize Diet Coke with half-ice. I got this combo on Friday, after I had gone to Weight Watchers and discovered that although I hadn't counted points as religiously as I used to, I still lost 2.2 pounds that week. (If you've ever done WW or know of anyone who has lost weight on the program, every single freaking ounce lost counts, hence the point-two previously mentioned.)

But, anyway, the combination of a hot latte and a cold Diet Coke was wowza, and I was pumped!

So, that's my coffee story.

Finally, I was checking out, taking note that Brooke Shields (who I actually got to speak with on the phone once for an article I was writing) is pregnant with baby number two. I say Great for her! And sorry to hear that Brit and Kev are having parental woes. What'd you expect though -- he's like dad to a few other kids -- this baby-making thing is not exciting for him. It's just another notch in his belt, so to speak!

Anyway, I'm checking out and the lady in front of me looks at my stuff, cuz come on, who doesn't check out other peoples' stuff, and she goes, "Looks like somebody runs a daycare?"

I told her that no, I didn't run a daycare but I did have three kids, hence the teddy grahams, juice boxes, fruit snax, cereal, chicken-noodle-o's, raviolis...

I cracked up. Running a day care was the most hilarious thing I'd ever heard, because 1) I would never have the patience to run a daycare, and 2) I would never WANT to run a daycare.

So, there you have it, my grocery store story, no majorly personal info, no embarrassing stories about relatives, no information that might tell you where I live... just some thoughts while shopping. All safe blogging fodder!

Playgroup, Anyone?

2005-11-05T22:14:00.000-06:00

I just found this online. It's something I wrote a while ago and just discovered it again via Google:

Everything I Needed To KNow, I Learned At Playgroup.

I kind of miss those days when the most exciting event of the week was Playgroup. Unless, of course, it was my turn to host it that week!

Poi Dog Pondering

2005-11-05T15:48:00.000-06:00

Last night we saw my favorite local band, and words can't describe the music, the energy, the atmosphere, the camaraderie of the group there to hear and watch and sing along with Poi Dog Pondering.

I'll try.

They're a local Chicago band who has (or is it have--this is one grammatical rule I just can't ever figure out) been around for probably 15-20 years. We've seen them about 10 times, and each time the show is energetic, uplifting, fascinating. There are about 11 members of the band with loads of instruments -- drums, trombone, cello, violin, guitars, synthesizers. You can't describe the type of music either... it's so ecclectic and different from probably anything you've ever heard, or thought you might like. And some people don't like this music. I do.

When we were in Philly, they came to a small venue, where Abra Moore opened for them. Before the show, Frank Orrall, the lead singer, walked past me and I went up to him, mentioned we used to follow them in Chicago all the time and now we lived out in Philly and were so happy they were in our town. We shook hands, he was very gracious and kind, and of course, I am easily star-struck. Since they are not as well-known on the east as in Chicago, we were front-and-center, Frank's sweat spilling onto me as he sang his songs, which are extemely poetic, thought-provoking, inspirational and even spiritual. The words just get to me.

I ended up front-and-center last night too, and at one point, nearing the end of the show, when Frank stopped to take a swig of his Heineken, I handed him a pen, asking him to sign the playlist taped to the floor. He did, apologizing that it was messy, and gave it to me. During the show he also did that thing where a singer will go into the crowd and be surfed through the hands of the people. How trusting is that -- to allow yourself to swim along a see of strangers, to let them reach for you, to let them move your body through the flow of fans, just so they can grab some energy from you.

And, later, there was a bouquet of flowers on the stage; he took them from the vase and started handing them to people in the audience. I got one, a white lilly not yet open, and later, in the parking garage, I gave my flower to a girl who was at the concert and noted she wished she had one. Heck, I've had a personal conversation with the guy before; I got his signature; I took their bottled water from the stage to drink last night; I also got a guitar pick. She can have the flower. Okay, I'm somewhat of a groupie, I guess you could say.

You have to check them out. Let me know what you think.

Blogger

2005-11-05T14:40:00.000-06:00

MMMM might be going under some changes in the future because of some unforeseen circumstances I will definitely explain to you later. You may have noticed my archives are no longer available, and I'm considering moving somewhere else into Blog Land.

There are some things I can no longer post about. Topics no longer approved for discussion may or may not include... well, anything of a personal nature, really.

When I started this blog, I didn't take into consideration a thing called Privacy and I might have put myself out there a little too forcefully, and some think this could be a dangerous thing as there are crazies out there, looking to stalk and kill and murder unsuspecting Bloggers who are only Blogging because they love to write, love to hear the thoughts of others, love to connect with other writers.

Someone asked me why I do this. And if I had any friends, and if I was lonely?
Answers:
Why does anyone do anything they enjoy?
Yes, I have friends.
No, I'm not lonely.

To me, it's a hobby, a form of expressing myself, an artistic outlet, and yeah, maybe I do seek the approval of others; I do want to hear from others that they enjoy my writing style, or that, as a mom, they too can relate to my parenting woes and joys. I do this because I think it's fun and I like to look at life in a humorous way and I like to make people laugh at some of the funny things that go on in my life.

But, when it becomes too much of an exposure, too much information shared, then it might be time to make some changes. And, I guess, in my hastiness to learn to Blog properly, and in my naivety, I might have expressed myself, shared too much, to you.

I might have goofed it all up.

There Mom.

2005-11-03T19:30:00.000-06:00

Archive Bye-Bye. Happy? 143

I'm An Aunt!

2005-11-03T10:08:00.000-06:00

Hubby's sister and her husband are officially the proud new parents to their son, Ethan Michael, who became theirs today after a long awaited adoption procedure through Russia.

I'm so thrilled and can't wait to meet their baby!

Lyrical Lunacy

2005-11-03T08:16:00.000-06:00

You know how when a line in a song just gets you? I've been listening to this particular song when I'm running and it just hits a nerve in me. I think that if the singer was looking into my eyes, singing these words to me, I might just die.

"I walk along these hillsides in the summer 'neath the sunshine, and am feathered by the moonlight, falling down on me."

Anyone want to guess?

More On Tuesday

2005-11-02T20:58:00.000-06:00

Well, well, well, I have just been made the recipient of some very juicy Blog-Gossip and feel extremely privvy to be in on the big secret of two Blog-Lovers who have found each other through their Blogs, and will, because I am not a Blog-Ruiner, continue to remain nameless until the two make their own announcement on their own blogs. Why ruin all the fun!?

I knew having a Confessional Tuesday would pay off in a major way! Congrats to the lovebirds. I am sooo psyched for you two and cannot wait for the book to come out! You have to write the book--there is not one out there on finding love Blog-Style. Hell, I'll be your agent!

On another note, I have, once again, stolen something from the very talented, and I'm sure beautiful, (judging from her kindergarten picture) MoDigLi

So, to answer the burning questions on blogging:

1. Do you try to look hot when you go to the grocery store just in case someone recognizes you from your blog?
No, I just try to remember the damn list, but I do know someone who puts on a ton of lipstick and heels to shop at the grocery store while on vacation, in a town where the odds are completely ZILCH that she'll run into anyone she knows.

2. Are the photos you post Photoshopped or otherwise altered?
I don't alter photos. What you see is what you get.

3. Do you like it when creeps or dorks email you?
Creeps, yes. Dorks, no.

4. Do you lie in your blog?
Depends. What's your definition of a lie?

5. Are you passive-aggressive in your blog?
I'm not sure what that means? Anyone care to explain? Does this mean I'm bitter, or I try to get back at someone who has wronged me? Probably.

6. Do you ever threaten to quit writing so people will tell you not to stop?
Yeah, I think I did that once, and thanks to all those who told me not to stop!

7. Are you in therapy? If not, should you be? If so, is it helping?
I'm not in therapy. I went to a 'counselor' for two or three visits a few years back. The first appointment, I cried, spilled my guts. The second appointment, I had to make up shit so we could use the whole hour. The third appointment, we stared at each other until the hour was up.

8. Do you delete mean comments? Do you fake nice ones?
I have gotten some mean comments but I didn't delete them. I didn't fake any nice ones.

REMOVED DUE TO UNSUITABLE CONTENT

10. If your readers knew you in person, would they like you more or like you less?
I don't know, can my readers who do know me in person answer this one in the comments?

11. Do you have a job?
Actually, yeah, kind of, and I just got a promotion, kind of. But first off, I am a mom, and that's my number one job. My "sorta-kinda-paying" job is an editor for a parenting website, and I love doing this because I can work any time I want, work as many or as few hours as I want. I also hope to be able to say in the future that yes, I do have a job, and my job title is AUTHOR. (I'm not going to be so off-the-wall and request BEST-SELLING, but if that were to accompany the job title, I'd take it!)

12. If someone offered you a decent salary to blog full-time without restrictions, would you do it?
Duh.

13. Which blogger do you want to meet in real life?
J Holden, Christa, DD, Joel, Alani, Breakup Babe, Erin, Memphis Steve seems kind of cool, Tulip... Oh gosh, I know there are more... Oh yeah, Agent 007 for sure... sorry if I missed you--not intentional! Oh, and Stephanie Klein so I can kick her in the ass. I no like her.

14. Which bloggers have you made out with?
Breakup Babe, Christa, Tulip--basically all the girls.

15. Do you usually act like you have more money or less money than you really have?
I think I don't act either way. I gripe a lot about being on credit-card parole, but really don't make judgments on who has money. It's all in the heart, baby, it's what you got right here (thumps chest).

16. Does your family read your blog?
Oh yeah. Hi everyone! Well, I know my mom does, because she thinks I'm going to get murdered because I am too open about things. I wasn't sure about my MIL, but she told me the other day she enjoyed the pics I posted when my girlfriends were in town. I think quite a few friends of mine read this. Hoping someday ex-boyfriends will google me and find Manic Mom and read all about me and think "Wow, and to think I let her get away!" Ha!

17. How old is your blog?
I've been blogging one year in December and it is so addicting.

18. Do you get more than 1000 page views per day? Do you care?
I don't get 1000 page views a day. I think I average 200-400 though, which is pretty cool. I'm at 22,000 hits now, but that's not from when I started cuz I couldn't figure out how to put a tracker on.

19. Do you have another secret blog in which you write about being depressed, slutty, or a liar?
Yes, it's called: Manicmomisadepressedsluttyliar.blogspot.com.

20. Have you ever given another blogger money for his/her writing?
No but I often offer sexual favors. KIDDING.

21. Do you report the money you earn from your blog on your taxes?
Money, what money?

22. Is blogging narcissistic?
It's therapy. Here's a question for you--"Is reading blogs voyeristic?"

23. Do you feel guilty when you don't post for a long time?
No, just the opposite, like right now my poor son is upstairs coughing up a lung and here I am, blogging my heart out.

24. Do you like John Mayer?
Totally, totally, totally. Love the song... shit, what's it called, it's on my itunes... Oh yeah, Body is a Wonderland. I even blogged about that song once. And the highschool song is pretty cool too.

25. Do you have enemies?
Anyone? Anyone? Beuhler?

26. Are you lonely?
Nope.

27. Why bother?
See answer #22.

P.S.--Did I get you on number 19?

Confessional Tuesday

2005-11-01T07:57:00.000-06:00

Okay, I'm going to confess something every Tuesday. It might be something really juicy, or really something I just shouldn't share, but I'm going to confess to something every Tuesday, and if you feel like a cleansing is necessary on your part, please, send me a confession in the comments.

Here's my confession:

I sleep with a Woobie.

I haven't always; in fact, I have only had this particular Woobie for a few years, but I love it. It's an off-pink color, not quite pink, not quite purply, almost a dusty mauve, and I think I got it at TJ Maxx a while back. It's got a homemade feel to it, like it's crocheted and sometimes I stick my fingers through the holes of it when I sleep. Or I spoon my Woobie, or wrap it around my body before I snuggle into my bed and get under the real covers. It comforts me. I love my Woobie.

There. My confession. What's yours?

Halloween

2005-10-31T14:04:00.000-06:00

Could there by anything worse than being eight-years-old and sick on the couch on Halloween? Poor Ajers is not well, with a cough, fever, all that. And he didn't go to school today, probably the one day all kids WANT to attend for there is a parade, and party, and cupcakes and treats and games. I did promise him in the middle of the night while he was hacking away that no matter how sick he felt, even if I had to pull him in a wagon, I would let him Trick Or Treat at some houses. I've also thought about asking any kid who comes to our door to give one piece of their candy to Ajers and then they could take two of ours. Think they'll go for it? Probably, but they'd most likely give up the crap candy for two of the good things I bought...

Which is all chocolate this year.

I never buy the chocolate stuff. I always buy the Willy Wonka, or Skittles or Sweet Tarts, fruity chewy candies, never the chocolate. Am I torturing myself? Did I do this on purpose?

Here's my oath to you and I'm hoping you all will keep me on track, but I am promising that I will not eat a piece of candy at all today. (Of course, a large cheese pizza might just happen to slide my way, but there will be no candy consumption!)

What are you and/or your kids going as, and how do you celebrate the Ghouliest Day of the Year?

Happy Halloween!

Forget What I Said...

2005-10-30T19:32:00.000-06:00

I'm gaining neither perspective or control, so scratch previous post, folks.

Control & Perspective.

2005-10-29T15:36:00.000-05:00

I feel like I'm finally gaining some of both.

This week, I went back to Weight Watchers, and I haven't been since July, so it was desperate measures for this desperate bon-bon-eating housewife! I was scared to get on that scale, but I knew if I kept away, the scale would become a dangerous weapon in my home, because the next time I would stand on it, I would become so frustrated and angry I would throw it out the window, possibly maiming an innocent dog-walker or skateboarder on the sidewalk. So, by going to Weight Watchers, I have probably saved a couple lives. I am considered a "Lifetimer" -- sounds much like a prison sentence huh? But this means I have reached my goal weight previously, maintained it for the required six weeks. Even if you reach Lifetime and gain back everything and more, you are still considered a Lifetimer as long as you go each week and pay the dues if you are over the goal weight.

I knew I was over my goal, and I knew it was higher than I wanted it to be, than it should be. So, I went knowing I would be paying the dues. I didn't care, because I need to get myself back into control. I was expecting 'the number' to be about four pounds higher than it actually was, so I was very happy I decided to go back when I did. As it is now, I am 8 - 10 pounds above my goal weight, but I'm getting back on track, so hopefully, I can lose it.

And, I'm still running/walking and it feels really great in this weather, and to have my ipod shuffle blaring stuff like Blue Monday, Dave Matthews, Fix You, Mamma Mia, Everybody Dance Now, Pump Up The Jam, U2 -- you know, stuff to get you really moving.

I've also been in (what Christa and I are calling) a Writing Frenzy, where we are racing against each other, and time, to create words that will turn into a novel. We are going to do the National November Writers' Month aka NaNoWriMo contest, in which the participants have one month to write a 50,000-word novel. (Note to Dating Dummy and ICG--this would be the perfect time to write your best-selling novel about Love Bloggin' Style!)

So far, I've got almost 20,000 words of Undoing It done, but I'm not too sure where it's going. It sure is bringing up a lot of past memories though, as it's a story about the Me who was Then compared to the Me who is Now. Although, it is fiction, kind of. Well, you read the Lemon thing right? That was fiction, but hey, it woud have been fun to be real! I seriously cannot think of a lemon in the usual -ade or garnish-on-a-cocktail sense ever again in my life after what I have written about that glorious fruit!

Hubby and I are going out tonight, but I promise there will be nothing crazy I will have to blog about later on. Tame, nice dinner out, with neighbors. Right? Right. With my new "control and perspective" motto, I've got to be good. At least until it goes right out the window next week when we go see our most favorite local band in the entire world! Anyone wanna take a guess?

Copy Cat

2005-10-27T22:50:00.000-05:00

Because MoDigLi did some cool digital-photography of old photos on her Blog, I thought that would be a fun way to spend the afternoon. So, without further adieu, some things around here that I felt like photographing:

Have At It, Critics!

2005-10-26T15:25:00.000-05:00

This post temporarily removed by blog-owner.

Hate Or Love

2005-10-24T22:46:00.000-05:00

I'll either hate or love Christa as she's becoming my Satan-Writing-Mentor, where I am selling my soul to her in order to write this next novel. I told her today I would write 3,000 words. I only made it to 2,088... But I did sneak in an In Her Shoes viewing, which was incredible, wonderful, emotional, sad, funny, uplifting! And even though I probably wouldn't pick Cameron Diaz for a BF, I do think she is an amazing actress, and any guy would love this movie, if only for the shots of her incredible bod.

So, Christa--how many did you write?

Saw my idol Jennifer Weiner Sunday, and while this was my third time meeting her at book signings, I was admittedly a little bummed she didn't jump out of her seat like she did last time, and hug me, telling the whole audience I was the girl who had been stalking her since day one. Nope, none of that recognition initially. However, her memory was refreshed when I showed her the pic of the two of us in Philly last year, and she remembered my obnoxious email address from all the fan letters I had written her. She asked how my writing was going, and signed my book To My Former Philly Girl, so I guess that's good.

And then I had a Yahoo Chick Lit writer blind date. I'm on this Yahoo Writer's Group whose focus is on writing the Chick Lit humor genre. I met up with the fabulous and beautiful Tricia Garner, editor and writer for Sporting News.We had a great time expressing our infatuation with Jennifer Weiner to anyone who would look our way. And then we met up with Francesca and Gretchen, two great girls, who just happen to be best friends and JW fans as well. We four were front-row center in the packed book store, grinning and nudging each other, and laughing at the funny things JW said. And rolling our eyes when someone would ask a stupid question or a question that if they were a true JW fan, they would have certainly already known by reading her blog, Snarkspot. Duh. If you're not a fan, don't come pretend to be one.

Afterward, the four of us went to Hugo's Frog Bar where we snacked on mini-filet mignon sandwiches with bernaise, bruschetta, and wine, reminiscing about the book signing event. And really, only a true fan would appreciate the experience we had with JW, and I'm glad I got to spend the day with these fun new girls, and share some wine and laughs with them! Shout out to you all! And Gretchen--get writing!

Ajers

2005-10-24T07:04:00.000-05:00

My first-born is going to be eight-freaking-years old this week. Cannot believe it.

So this a.m. I actually wake up before Ajers, do the treadmill, take a shower. Then Ajers comes into my room and I say, "Let me look at you."

"What?" he says.

"I just want to look at you so I remember what you looked like when you were seven."

"Mom, I'm still going to look the same, I'll just be a different age."

"You sure?" I ask.

"Yeah, it's not like when you turn 13 and you get all those little red things all over your face."

Cuisine, Vino, Music, Friends, Books

2005-10-22T21:21:00.000-05:00

These are some of the things I love, and to be able to enjoy all of them in one setting is a great experience. We got to do this over the weekend.

I became close friends with a girl in college I met senior year, second semester. We got along so great that one night, after an evening of many beers at Molly's, which just so happens to be the place Hubby and I met, Close Friend and I decided since we had become so close in such a short amount of time, we should cement our friendship with a prick of a needle and the co-mingling of blood from our fingertips.

A couple years later, we both admitted to each other that it was a stupid thing to do--I didn't know Close Friend for very long; she hadn't known me very long--what if either of us had shared the AIDS virus! (This is waaaaay back in '91, when AIDS was a headliner in many newscasts, magazines and papers; where we donated blood not in the hopes of saving lives, but in the hopes we wouldn't receive a phone call from the Red Cross telling us our blood was tainted with the AIDS virus.)

Anyhow, friendship was further cemented when CF met Boyfriend-Turned-Husband and My Hubby, CF, Boyfriend-Turned-Husband found out the four of us really enjoyed one another, intellectually and socially. It has been a funny experience being great friends with CF and BTH of CF because more often than not, BTH and I bond over many of life's similarities, while Hubby and CF have fantastic debates on politics, marriage, child-rearing, jobs. See, CF is a very successful career woman, and BTH is an admirable, awesome SAHD. (For those of you not familiar with the abbreviation, it is Stay-At-Home-Dad.)

But, BTH is not just defined as a SAHD, just as I am not just a SAHM. Hubby is not just the family breadwinner, and CF is certainly not just their family's breadwinner. Everyone in every avenue of life is so much more than the one thing that defines us, don't you think? I mean, if you took a look at your life, your personality, who you are and what you do, couldn't you come up with a list of 50+ words to describe the You that you are?

My point of this whole post, aside from sharing the evening of enjoying friends, wine, food, music, etc. is that SAHD is also an incredible chef. Incredible.

So, it's always a treat to be invited into their home because we know we will not only get to spend some time with great friends whom we have a terrific past with, but we will also be very well-fed.

I took pictures. They do not do the food we devoured justice.

Since Close Friend's family lives over an hour away, the kids and I drove to their house as soon as school was out. Since Hubby and CF both work in the city, they grabbed a six-pack at the station, got onto the train together, drank, talked, and crack-berried out during the hour-twenty commute to Close Friend's family home.

SAHD and I walked to the train with the five kids, he and I holding hands, pretending to be the parents of all five kids, laughing as their neighbors looked on confused.

The kids got along great, Hubby was already sporting a buzz when he and CF got off the train, and we all hugged one another, the kids jumping up and down, excited to see their working parents. The air was crisp and windy, the kids' cheeks flushed from running and the chill, but then again, so were Hubby's cheeks, due to the Miller Lites.

Chef Ron, as I will now refer to him throughout the post, went all out. He makes these heavenly rolls that I cannot even properly describe. They are golden and perfectly round, with a butter and salted gloss on top. Diva the Non-Carnivore ate eight of these rolls. No lie. This is when CF suggested that maybe a woman's desire for carbohydrates is something just in our genetic make-up, and emerges at a stunningly young age. I have to agree.

CR made homemade guacamole, oven-roasted turkey mini sandwiches with quince paste, onion, cheese and some amazing sauce, then he grilled them with real butter until they were golden brown and all melty. (My mouth continues to water as I type this!)

We had pork marinated in a chipotle BBQ sauce (I think it was?) with poblano peppers, roasted garlic rice, homemade chocolate chip cookies...

And I found a new wine. I've always been a Pinot Grigio drinker, and am usually not fond of the oaky flavor of Chardonnay. But we've discovered some wines that are "unoaked", meaning they are not fermented in the oak barrel, but in a process where a stainless steel bin is used in the wine-making. Then, the wines are not corked, but a screw-cap is applied. Really. And this is not your Riunite on Ice So Nice Peach and Raspberry flavored we got drunk on in high school. No, this is real good wine. If you're looking for a new one, try Tin Roof Chardonnay. It's light, clean and about eight bucks a bottle. There's also a stainless steel wine called Jale I've had but have not seen it in stores. Has anyone tried?

So, along with the excellent company, obedient children, laughter, food, and wine, we also listened to some fun music including that poppy song about the Doorbell Ringing, Can Ya Hear It by White Stripes, but after a few glasses of wine, I decided to refer to them as White Snake. Also listened to the Garden State CD, some Moby, Peter Gabriel, Lucinda, Coldplay, PJ Harvey... Just fun and good, and most of all, we had such a relaxing night, just sitting, talking, laughing... and I love listening to Hubby and CF debate things such as if downtown Naperville is really a 'city' versus downtown Chicago, and we talked about our beliefs in God, how we are raising our children and exposing them to our culture... yada yada yada, pour me some more wine.

Early bedtime for us ladies, but CR and Hubby stayed up later and practically-almost-but-not-quite finished off a bottle of Jim Beam. In the a.m., CR was at it again, and he made all of this for breakfast! Like I said, the pictures show no justice, but my gut certainly appreciated the six or seven 12 ounces each almost cinnamon rolls I ate,

along with the frittata,

and scrumptious bites of homemade waffles and bacon. Uh, and yes, I am now wearing jammy pants with elastic!

For the book reference to the title of this post, CF lent me a book,
The End of Alice. I am only on page 49, and the best way to describe this book is to say it has beautifully-written words about a very taboo kind of life, a sickening plot, but I am mesmerized as I read the phrases dotting this horror, love, suspense, in-the-mind-of-a-psychotic-person novel. Gee, does that make you want to rush right out and read it? You will be repulsively engrossed in the words and the plot of this story. That I promise you. You may not like it, but it will engross you. All this from pages 1 -49.

As for my agent search--more rejections; there are still some agents out there, either making decisions or trying to decide the nice way to let me down, or maybe my partial has been designated to the bottom of the bottomless pit that is the Agent Slush Pile. I don't know, but right now it's not bothering me, and I will focus on the next novel, tentatively titled Undoing It.
Up for tomorrow--Jennifer Weiner will enthrall me for the third time of me meeting her, where I will listen to her talk of her books, her success, her daughter, and the life of a famous best-selling author. And where I will probably get very nervous and sweaty, and say something really stupid like reminding her that I'm like that chick in Misery, but I'm not planning on kidnapping her and hobbling her, I just want her to be my best friend and have her agent represent me. Is that too much to request?

And on Monday, I am venturing into the city to go to a fiction event where four chick-lit authors will be reading from their latest novels, and we will be drinking wine together. Could it get any better? I guess it could--I could be one of the authors in the spotlight reading from a book I have written. Yes, that would definitely be better! But for now, I'll take what I can get, and learn from these women I so long to be like!

Big News!

2005-10-20T15:36:00.000-05:00

I have been talking with my friend, who I will call High School Prom Queen, and she has been giving me cooking tips. She manages a family with three kids as well, volunteers, updates her household, exercises with me, teaches Religious Ed... all these things and she can still manage to create enticing, enjoyable, scrumptious meals for her family of five like pratically EVERY SINGLE NIGHT!

Sooo, in taking her culinary advice, I am going to attempt to pick out, and purchase, and take home, and de-gut, and wipe off, and pat dry, and lubricate and salt and pepper, and cook in a roasting pan (which I need to buy one of those too) a...

CHICKEN!

She says it's really easy.

PS... although I can't attempt this tonight because I've organized a neighborhood ladies' night out so while, I won't be in the kitchen whipping up a roasted chicken, I may have some funny stuff to post about all the Desperate Housewives and what happens when you get twenty of us together in a room at a restaurant with a two-hour open bar.

A Hiatus

2005-10-18T21:07:00.000-05:00

I'm thinking about taking one. I love this Blog, I think it's therapeutic for me, but it also takes up a ton of my time; time I could be thinking about learning to cook, time I could be sorting the damned socks on the living room couch; time I could be focusing more on the kids.

But, I don't want to stop. Like most of you, writing is in your blood, but right now, I don't even feel like working on the real writing, not that this isn't real writing, but I just don't know. I have to admit, it was a nice break not being a slave to the computer all weekend and all of today, and most of yesterday. I need to stop the surfing because, while entertaining, there are more important things in my life. I wish there was a way to balance it all, and how selfish of me to even be thinking this way, when there are people out there so totally dedicated they manage to work full-time jobs, raise a family, cook freaking dinners every night, have the laundry done, make love with their husbands, entertain their kids, volunteer at school, be a soccer mom... why can't I do it all?

So, this is just sort of a free-form post tonight, and already I feel much better tapping away at the keys, seeing the words come to life, thinking about what I want to write. Already I feel happier. So, why then is it that I want to quit? To focus on other things, or to just figure out a way to balance it all? Why, why, why? Marsha, Marsha, Marsha! Don't know why I just wrote that--must be a Brady thing.

My mind just completely went blank. I don't know what else to write.

Deep, thoughtful pause, where I sit here trying to think of something euphoric to write...

Damn. Still considering. Watching the curser taunt me. I promised
Christa, Writer Extraordinaire I would come up with ten pages of the new WIP by Friday. I'm not sure I can do it. I don't know where to start. But I guess, like this post, I didn't know where to start either, and here I keep going. That's what it's all about I guess, having the urge to want to do something so badly, that nothing, not even sleep, or family responsibilities, or laundry, or school volunteering, or sex, can come in the way. Is this a bad thing? I'm not sure. I think it may be. But, to be able to sit here and just do what I want to do most in the world, when nothing comes out, it just feels like wasted time, failing.

OK, done with that rant. Quick notes from my Girl's Weekend. It ROCKED! We went to a million and twelve places in the city, drank a million and twelve cocktails, ate a million and twelve things, and here's the long and short of it:

Where we slept

Where we drank

Where we drank some more and almost, thisclose, had a John Cusack run-in!

Where we ate and had some really good margaritas

Where we avoided the $10 cover charge and listened to pianos rival one another with White Snake and Bon Jovi songs--really, it was fun!

Where we made the mistake of going to the 12:30 a.m. show where really only freaks and really, really drunk people would attend

Souvenirs and photo opps.

Rockin' Popcorn!

Where we shopped; I could have cared less

Breakfast Salad

Suburban dining at its best!

Suburban cocktails at its best!

Cute waiter who also is lead singer and guitarist for this band!

Post weekend hangover food I thought I'd be able to keep down

What I finally ate on Monday morning

We didn't get to see the bean.

It was awesome, and it could have turned out disastrous, as my gal pals' plane was two hours delayed, we didn't get back to my house until 2 a.m. where I was then up until 4:30 a.m. because, OF COURSE, Tukey was sick in the middle of the night, and OF COURSE, wouldn't you know it--DOUBLE FREAKING EAR INFECTION! Thankfully, wonderful, supportive awesome husband took him to the doctor, got a mega antibiotic prescription for Tukey and took great care of the kids all weekend long. He even ventured to his parents overnight Saturday so we girls could have the house to ourselves--I swear, it was a sorority house here, not that I was ever a sorority girl, but, you get the picture. Speaking of pictures, I'll post a few here.

Okay, guess I don't want to quit this. It's just too much fun, and a whole helluva lot cheaper than therapy! Hope you all had a great weekend and that the weather by you is like it is here--Indian Summer in the '70s!

(And of course, as with any Girls' Weekend and photo shoot, there are the requisite cleavage shots but I can't post 'em.)

I'm Back

2005-10-17T13:30:00.000-05:00

Here's a brief detail about our weekend: Today, Monday, I rose from the dead, ate Kentucky Fried Chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy for breakfast at 8:30 a.m. I've also inhaled a Little Debbie's brownie and four homemade (of course, not by me) chocolate chip cookies, and to rehydrate, I've had five diet 7-ups. I don't see a grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalatteezwhip in my future for a long, long while. That may just shred my stomach...

Pictures and a complete play-by-play of the weekend with my mom friends from Philly to come.

And, good news, I didn't hit any walls...

Too Freaking Cool!

2005-10-13T16:46:00.000-05:00

I'm working my way through a migraine, probably because I am scrubbing this house into a frenzy and am delirious with the fumes from the Carpet Fresh, Pledge Wipes, Clorox Wipes, Lysol Toilet Bowl Cleaner... but, alas, my close gal pals from Philly are arriving TONIGHT: Stacy, Julie, Kelly, Erica and Di, and we are going to tear it up Ferris Beuhler style in the city! So, I just had to clean the house, right?

Anyway, NOT MY ORIGINAL POINT. This is:

Go to Ex-Girlfriends Revenge and laugh your ass off. She has posted an Ex of mine, and some of you readers know him as "Chams The Man" from Freshman year in college. Ex-Girlfriend took some of the privvy info I willingly gave her and came up with a dossier (sp?) that suits him PERFECTLY!

If you're a woman (OR HEY, EVEN A MAN!) and you've been jilted (and who hasn't?), send your info to Ex-Girlfriends Revenge and she can put together a nice little post about your Ex. She's very accurate, by the way, especially about how Daytona Boy was less than ... well, you'll just have to go read about it at Ex-Girlfriends Revenge!

Oh, and I'm still working on the list of sites that I'll be posting from the recent post... but that'll have to wait until my crazy all-girls-all-food-all-drinks-all-fun weekend in Chicago, where Stacy has already promised me she will let me get Fun-Stephie-Drunk but not Puke-Stephie-Drunk. I hope she can handle the job!

A Game For Fun

2005-10-11T17:57:00.000-05:00

If you're a regular reader, or even if you're not, if you like this Blog, or hate it with a vengence, you're invited to play this game:

Send me a comment with your age and your sex. Then when you get your Word Verification, make up a sentence using each one of those words as the first word. If you go to the comments right now, I'll start. Hope I get a good one!

The more creative, the better, obviously! Limited profanities, please!

OMG...

2005-10-11T13:54:00.000-05:00

I think I just got turned on by something I wrote. Wow. That was cool. I might have to read it again!

And since I like what Anna does, I'll start keeping track of the words, pages I am writing, maybe as a visual incentive to keep going.

Words written today: 912
Total words: 6,670
Total pages: 27

Currently Reading: Goodnight Nobody by Jennifer Weiner,
(WARNING: STOP READING THIS POST NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THIS BOOK!)...

(Okay, continue)...and while she is my all-time author-extraordinaire idol, I'm not quite sure how I'm feeling about this book. I do jump into bed, excited to read it, but then later the next day, I'm not too sure what I feel... maybe the mystery thing has got me all confused, finding a dead Desperatey-Housewifey chick in her kitchen with a knife in her back... Just not too sure. And maybe that's good, because I have no idea who did it, although I'm starting to think EM, for those of you who are reading it, but then again, maybe, that's what Jen Weiner would want us to think. No wait! I bet it was Kate's husband! That would give Kate an excuse to divorce him and be with the one she really loves! Hmmm... maybe I am into this book!

Currently Listening To: Krafty By New Order; Fix You By Coldplay. Not at the same time.

The Changing Of The Guards

2005-10-10T21:43:00.000-05:00

You've heard of that right? At Buckingham Palace, I think.

Well, today I had The Changing Of The Jeans.

Not fun. I hate this time of year; I love this time of year; I loathe this time of year; I welcome this time of year; I dread this time of year; It is here.

Put the t-shirts away, and the shorts and capris.
Sadness arrives like a denim pair
that no longer fits
even tho it has stretch fabric and
should give way
to the spreading thighs
of summer cookouts,
one-too-many margaritas
and the never-ending quest
for chocolate
during that time.

The jeans are here.

Tukey Talk

2005-10-09T18:30:00.000-05:00

So, we're in the minivan, headed to the country to visit Hubb's parents. Diva and Ajers are in the middle seats and Tukey's in the way, way back being pretty quiet. He's never in the back by himself, and he's never very quiet. It's kind of a long drive, for a kid anyway. He must have been bored because all of a sudden, he has something very interesting to say.

Tuke: "Hey guys!" We all turn our heads (except for Hubby who was driving) because the way he said, "Hey guys", it sounded like it was something very important.

"I just dared myself to eat a booger!"

Me: "Did you do it?"

Tuke (waaaay too proudly): "YEP!"

Let's Get It Started!

2005-10-08T08:57:00.000-05:00

I'm listening to this song from Black-Eyed Peas. So, let's get it started!

I would like to share some of your blogs with some other blog surfers and readers. There are so many of you out there with great blogs, and I think one of the goals of a blogger is to capture an audience, an audience who offers words of wisdom, pearls of perception, kernels of ... (can't come up with a K or a C word, but kernels sounds good...) anyway, I feel readers and what they have to say help writers find out more about themselves, who they are, who they want to become. That's my opinion anyway. And as a writer, I would think you are writing in order to touch other peoples' lives, so maybe this will help you find the audience who is most certainly looking for you.

So, and maybe this is out of line, but I want to create a National-Share-Your-Blog Week, starting NOW. If you would like to have others find you on the internet, just leave me a comment and include your URL to the site, and then next week, I will compile a list of them (no offensive blogs/posters please!), create a specific post entry for these unique blogs, and this way, readers will be able to find each other. I will plan on re-posting these blogs each month.

I know there are sidebars you can link other bloggers to, but those tend to get lost in the blog, so this way, it'll give your blog some added exposure, and hopefully get the word out about the great things you have to say!

Additionally, if you want, I would also complile the list and send it to my email addresses to those I think would like your site.

Other interested bloggers, it would be cool for you to post something like this on your site to spread the word...

I'm all about the PR, and if you're a serious blogger, this is one way to get the word out. To let others know you are out there. It's kind of like a door-to-door salesman, but without the vacuums or Bibles, or encyclopedias!

So, Let's Get It Started! Drop me a comment with your URL if you're game!

Tagged; I'm It!

2005-10-08T08:22:00.000-05:00

Wonderful, fun, hip, and cool Erin tagged me, so here goes:

1) Shampoo and Conditioner - Infusium 23

2) Soap - Dove with those little exfoliants in 'em.

3) Colors - Hot pink, maroon, yellow, green

4) Soda - Diet Coke/Pepsi with Lemon. But Vernon's Ginger Ale is really good too, but not the diet kind.

5) Foods - Pizza, pasta, french fries (wonder where Diva gets her shitty eating habits?)

6) Movie - Sixteen Candles and In Her Shoes, (even though I didn't go see it when it opened last night, have yet to see it, but am sure I will love it!) Oh, and Say Anything with Lloyd Dobbler (John Cusack) mostly because of the scene where he is blaring In Your Eyes, which is my favorite song, which will probably be the next question, right?

7) Band - Poi Dog Pondering. Great Live. Dave Matthews Band. Great Live. Peter Gabriel. Great Live.

8) Disney Character - Pluto does not get enough attention. He's not my favorite though.

9) Actor - Aidan Quinn, John Travolta, Charlie Sheen (but like when he was in Lucas), Nicolas Cage, Will Ferrel is pretty funny--taco, burrito, what's that in your speedo?

10) Actress - I am not sure.

11) Video Games - When I was little, when they had arcades, I rocked, rocked, rocked on CENTIPEDE, Q-BERT, and of course, the beloved Ms. Pac-Man.

12) Computer Games - Does Blogging count as one?

13) Store - Barnes & Noble.

14) Alcohol - None since The Green Tie Ball. Next weekend though, when my Philly Gal-Pals arrive, it's all about the 'Tinis! And I've been promised that they will not let me get Puke-Stephie-Drunk, just Happy-Stephie-Drunk.

15) Number - 14

16) Car - I don't know but we've already told Ajers that when he turns 16 he gets the Minivan, and I'll get whatever I freaking want!

17) Book - Jen Weiner, Alice Sebold, Wally Lamb, Emily Giffin, Judy Blume.

18) T.V. Show - None.

19) Website - Snarkspot, Jennifer Weiners. Oh, and http://www.stephanielliot.com.

20) Condiment - Mayo.

21) Fruit - Pineapple.

22) Vegetable - Does Corn Count.

23) Restaurant - Any place that has no children. Any place that I'm there with friends and hubby. Any place I have a gift certificate to. Any place anyone else is treating. Any place with great wine service. Any place with... God, I want to go out to dinner now!!!

24) Blogger - See above post.

25) Place - Grand Cayman, specifically Rum Point. Barnes & Noble.

Who to tag, who to tag--I'm going to get some new blood in here now, so share the love folks!

Indy Boy
Tobias
Heather
Exgirlfriend
Kelly
Cute Unknown Man With Flower

Word Verification

2005-10-07T20:15:00.000-05:00

Every time I get a Word for word verification and I see a Q on it, I cringe, because I know I'm going to automatically type a U right after it and screw up my word.

MUCH BETTER!

2005-10-07T13:37:00.000-05:00

Okay, I'm going to just write.

I feel much, much better because I was in a terrible funk, and not sure if it was period-driven, agent-driven, not-seeing-my-husband-since-Tuesday driven, writing-driven, children-driven, depression-medicine-driven, weight-gain-driven, lack of my grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattewithezwhip-driven but I am better.

Whew.

I just said screw it, get out of this mood, and what way would make me immediately feel better about myself? By doing something good for myself, not in the ways of a Starbucks fix, but in a healthy matter.

I put on those $90 shoes and just ran. The most I have in ten years. I had my ipod with music chosen specifically for running, and it was a great feeling. I feel better.

Reasons I wasn't feeling too happy. And they are completely not legitimate reasons if I look all around me and see what other people don't have, have lost, want, need, etc.

And, "dear readers" (and that's in quotes because I hate when Bloggers refer to the people who read their blogs as dear readers), I'm going to be completely, completely honest here, and I know this is what some of you want to know.

I didn't like that an anonymous poster wrote something unkind.

There, you happy? This is the result you wanted. You made me feel badly. You won. But not for long, because I don't feel that way anymore. And I wasn't feeling bad because you said I posted "crap" and "trash." I posted something I felt like sharing, and if you've ever been in a writer's group or a writing class, it's scary to share your work, to read it in front of everyone, and even scarier to read something you have written that could have been of a personal nature. You bare your soul when you let someone read the words that come from within.

I don't care that you didn't like it. Hell, I hate The Catcher in the Rye. I hate Hemingway. I could care less about A Tale of Two Cities, Jane Eyre, Whoever...I don't even read the classics, or even know who some of the classic authors are. It's my choice. I have an opinion and if I don't want to read something, I don't.

What I posted is definitely not my best written piece, it's not my worst. It's not even something from the novel I wrote, and it might not even be something from the novel I am trying to write now. It was, as I titled it, "JUST SOMETHING."

The thing that gets me is that someone would deliberately set out to do something mean, to try to hurt someone, whether or not you know me, I don't know -- but I think you do, or else you're a very lonely person who gets kicks going onto random blogs and posting mean things.

If you wanted to critique what I had written, you should have done what Tobias did, and offered something constructive, something I could have taken from you in order to make my writing better. You're just mean and that makes me think you've got nothing better to do and you've got a lonely life, and for that, I feel sorry for you.

You might want to take a look inside and see what's missing from your life and how to make it better. Like I have done.

Mixed-Up Funk

2005-10-07T11:42:00.000-05:00

About a lot of things. I'm going for a run; maybe that'll clear my head and I'll blog about this mixed-up funk later.

Just Something.

2005-10-05T14:18:00.000-05:00

She got up to take a shower, kissing him before she left the bed. Hell, she would play the same game. Let’s see if he can hold out, she thought. She kissed him deeply, their morning breath mingling, and then she got out of bed, but he reached for her as she got up, touched the smooth skin of her back, tried to pull her back to him. This was what she wanted. But instead, she got up and left for the shower. She knew he was hard with wanting, but more than her wanting him, she was mad at being rejected, and now she wanted him to feel what she had felt. Rejection. This was a game she could try to play.

But what was the point? If they desired one another, why couldn’t they just say so, to say, I want you, I want to be with you. I’m ready for you again. Why couldn’t he just open up to her, as she had to him.

She kissed him lightly one last time, and he rested his chin on her shoulder, and she felt him inhale her deeply, so much so, that it gave her goosebumps. A chill of want.

Purposefully, she kept the door open to the bathroom, made the water extra hot, as steamy as she could stand it. She had hoped he would join her. She soaped her skin slowly, deliberately, taking her time so he would know that she was waiting for him. She took her hair into her hands and lathered until her hands were filled with suds. She felt happy, and giggled.

The shower curtain withdrew a bit.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, searching her face.

She didn’t feel shy to have him look at her body as she bathed. You would think a private person would shy away from having someone stare so intently at her nakedness, but she stood there, waiting. To see if he would come to her. She purposefully stood up straighter, showing off her breast, her hips, her tummy, and she took the soap and began washing again. He just grinned at her, and just when she thought he would join her, instead, he brought his hand up and wiped just above her eyebrow.

“Soap almost in your eye,” he said. “Hurry up, okay?”

She took her fingers and made a splash gesture at him, sprinkling him with water.

“Fucker,” she said and grinned.

He laughed at her. This would have been the perfect moment for him to say it, to say that he was crazy in love with her, to tell her how much he meant to her, to finally be honest.

He let go of the shower curtain, and then she heard the bathroom door close shut.

Quick Manic Mom Poll

2005-10-03T14:14:00.000-05:00

Does the whole world's female population have their periods this week?

And completely related, has anyone ever been to an Ethel's Chocolate Lounge? I'm headed there now! Ha, ha, PMS joke, but there really is a place called Ethel's Chocolate Lounge where their slogan is Come To Chocolate And Chit-Chat, or something like that.

(I bet Joel and Alani stopped there this weekend?)

Shhh....My New Purchase

2005-10-03T11:57:00.000-05:00

How can I hide the 40-inch diameter mirror I bought at the flea market yesterday from My Hubby, aka Sleeping-With-The-Enemy guy, but not how he beats Julia Roberts, and not how he expects the Campbell soup cans to be lined up, but how he is now obsessing over the credit card...

(Sidenote--I know, I know, I don't pay the bills, I don't know how much money is spent each month--actually, I do because he printed out the itemized list this month, and I have to agree, shhh... it is a little bit excessive, but it's not MY fault we had a wedding to go to in Buffalo; it's not MY fault it was Tukey's birthday and I bought him a Cold Stone Creamery birthday cake for $30; it's not MY fault that it's Fall and the kids are growing taller and they needed some new clothes from TARGET for crying-out-loud; it's not MY fault that I felt it would be more economical to purchase the Zoo membership rather than pay $40 for this visit and $40 for the next visit and so on when I could get a much better deal with the membership; it's not MY fault that we had to go to the stupid Green Tie event for his work-which, by the way, the $250 tickets EACH were FREE, and it's not MY fault that I needed to look presentable and had to buy an outfit with matching necklace--that I'm still glad I bought because I love the necklace; it's not MY fault people in this house want to eat food. Is it?)

I'm on lockdown though. Jailed. No time off for good behavior.

But, if I had balls, I would have sweated them off this a.m. trying to hoist this huge mirror I bought (WITH MY OWN, VERY OWN CASH I MADE ON MY OWN FOR WORKING FOR BABYZONE.COM THANK YOU VERY MUCH!). So, said mirror is on the wall, and let me tell you, it was not fun getting it up there. L has bet me a Starbucks he won't even notice it. HOW CAN YOU NOT NOTICE A 40-INCH DIAMETER MIRROR?!!?

I kept the mirror at L's house last night, called her this morning and asked, "Do you still have the contraband? Can you bring it over?"

So, L drives it over, and like Lucy and Ethel, we try to figure out how to get it up onto the wall, and Thank God there was already hooks in the studs from the previous owners, who we still had the previous owner's custom artwork up there until we could find a replacement so I had to get the ladder from the garage, one of those big ones that expand really, really tall. Then I had to climb up there and believe me, I started getting afraid of heights it's so high up (we have cathedral ceilings). Then L and my other friend J hoist the mirror up and I'm sweating to death, imagining my demise over a mirror and a ladder, and then we get it up there, and L says, "The wire in the back is not long enough to hook on both hooks?"

WTF?

I said there's no way I'm coming back down to fix the wire because it took about an hour just to do that part and then we reinforced it with black electrical tape, so dammit all, that mirror is going on this wall somehow right now or I just might have to kill someone!

YAY! I persevered and got the mirror up onto the hooks.

Fortunately, I like it there because even if I hated it, I was not taking it down. I can see it right now in fact, and I smile every time I see it because it makes me happy. See, I'm smiling right now.

And I'll keep on smiling until Sleeping With The Enemy (kidding, hon! Just kidding--like he even knows how to find my blog anyway!) comes home, makes a little after-dinner drink and heads upstairs to change out of his suit and he sees the mirror and then we won't talk the rest of the night, unless he makes some comment like, "Where'd that come from?"

If he says that, I'm going to say, "Well, didn't you know, the mirror fairy came last night!"

Oopsy

2005-10-02T18:56:00.000-05:00

I'm grounded. On credit-card suspension with no parole in sight.

And it's not like I use it frivously for Prada, Anne Taylor, Gucci, etc. Hell, I buy my shoes at Payless and Target! (I think I'm grounded because I spent $90 on a pair of good quality running shoes so I can get in shape and lose some weight and find me a rich, new man! hee, hee, just kidding, honey, we all know it's "Cheaper-to-keep-her!.)

In other Manic Mom news, I have the first sentence of my second novel figured out, as well as the final three sentences. I can tell you the jist of the first part:

She didn't remember if she chose special underwear to wear that night. She didn't think anyone else would be seeing them.

Can't tell you the last line. Tomorrow, I may work on the 380 pages I'll need in between the bread of those two lines to make me a novel sandwich!

One good thing about credit-card suspension is I'll have no reason not to sit here in front of an empty page and try to think of something clever to write.

Tukey Talk

2005-10-01T08:29:00.000-05:00

This morning, Tukey told me his favorite prayer he made up.

He doesn't just tell me it; he squinches up his eyes really, really tight like that'll make the prayer go up faster to God, clamps his fists up and really, really concentrates:

Dear God (long pause),

The aminals are glad that you made them. ('nother pause),

And we're glad that you made us too!

(Emphatically) AMEN!

Yep, Amen all right!

Hope you all have a beautiful fall day and weekend! This soccer mom (hate that term - hell, I hate soccer! Oops, is it wrong that this post has a prayer in it, and then H-E-double-hockey-sticks too?) Anyway, this 'soccer mom' (who has been virtually alcohol-free since 'that' night) has a game to attend for Ajers.

Change Is Okay; Change Is Good!

2005-09-30T14:10:00.000-05:00

So, feeling like something new this a.m., I didn't get my usual grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattewithezwhip. I took the plunge, did something unexpected; dared to cast aside the normalcy of what is normal.

I ordered something completely uncharacteristic.

A grandenonfatchaitealatte.

The woman behind me in line, when it was her turn to order exclaimed: "Ditto."

SHE WAS GETTING A NONFATCHAILATTE too! What are the odds? Out of all the drinks, out of all the combinations of concoctions, out of all the Starbucks in the area she could have chosen to go to, she is in the exact same one as I am, and she ordered the darn same drink as me.

Copy cat, I figured.

I looked at her. "Are they good?" I asked excitedly.

"You'll love it," she assured.

Hmmm... it was nice, a change of pace, throwing caution to the wind. It reminded me of the Wassle (?) Christmas Punch my mom used to make on the stove -- oranges in tea with cloves kind of. But a little creamy. And without the rum my mother would add. Or was it bourbon?

Each sip stung my tongue, but not in a tangy bad way, but it did have a little 'bite' to its flavor.

I kind of liked it. I might even order it again sometime. I think they're healthier for you. Bad part (or maybe good part depending on how you look at it): no caffeine buzz. Unless there is caffeine in it; I wasn't sure.

Similarities: came in the same kind of cup I usually get, and still costs four bucks.

The Art Of Finding An Agent - What Not To Do?

2005-09-30T00:14:00.000-05:00

So, I sent an agency a query for my novel, and then I get the dreaded REJECTION letter, which, they don't really bother me all that much, because I expect to get rejection letters - it's the nature of the business.

What I loathe though is that some agents cannot even take the time to write "Dear Stephanie" on their basic form letter that all they have to do is copy and paste onto my original email query. So, below is the correspondence I had this week with a very reputable agency:

My original query was something like this--

Dear (NOTMENTIONINGANYNAMESHERE),

yada yada yada... (I won't bore you with the actual query I sent, but it was nicely written, professional, etc.)

Heard nothing. For what I considered to be ample time to respond. I emailed back, politely reminding them who I was, what I had written, "I know you are busy, yada yada yada," and just wanted to make sure my query was received.

I got this back:

Thank you for thinking of NOTMENTIONINGANYNAMESHERE Literary Agency. Unfortunately, we must decline your request for representation. Please forgive the necessity of this form letter; we truly wish we had the time to personally contact each writer who sends us his/her material, but it's just not possible given the number of letters and manuscripts we receive each week.

We like to give all writers who submit material to NOTMENTIONINGANYNAMESHERE Literary Agency every opportunity to establish a successful partnership with us. To that end, please be assured that if the agent you originally queried decided that your work might be right for a different agent here at NOTMENTIONINGANYNAMESHERE Literary Agency, she may have passed it along to an associate. For this reason, there's no need to submit your work to multiple NOTMENTIONINGANYNAMESHERE agents. Also, please keep in mind that we welcome queries for exciting new projects from authors who have previously submitted other projects to us.

For more information on our agency, please check out our website at:
www.NOTMENTIONINGANYNAMESHERE.com. Once again, thank you for approaching NOTMENTIONINGANYNAMESHERE Literary Agency. We wish you the best of luck with your writing career.

Regards,

soandsoagentlady
www.NOTMENTIONINGANYNAMESHERE.com

She got me on a BAAADDD day so I wrote back:

Hi, thanks for the response. Out of courtesy, could you just let me know if my info was forwarded to another agent in your office for review. Just want to know, and if, as you say, I can be "assured" then please assure me if this has happened. If not, I will continue my agent search elsewhere.

I sincerely do appreciate you taking the time to review and respond to me, although I'm not a big fan of the form letter. I think aspiring authors deserve more than that, even if it's a letter saying, "Dear Stephanie, your work sucks."

Thanks.

My new agent-search goal-besides pissing off those who have already rejected me and burning possible bridges I may need to cross later-is to send out three queries a night. I did this last night, and wouldn't you know it, two of the three requested partials of my manuscript. One rejected me, but very nicely, even using my name in the email. Now, that's what I call courtesy.

Tukey Talk

2005-09-26T19:06:00.000-05:00

"Mommy! Mommy!"

"What?"

"I'm SO glad!"

"Tukey, what are you so glad about?" Here's me thinking he's so glad that his throat's not hurting much anymore, or that he's glad he didn't cry at school, or he's glad that he found some lost toy.

He gets on the floor, sticks the palm of his hand underneath his knee, pumps his leg and out comes the noise... and then he says, "Cuz I can do the tooting thing with my leg."

People Take Things WAY Too Seriously

2005-09-26T18:49:00.000-05:00

All I said was, "There's nothing wrong with formula."

People are cyber-stoning me. I'm getting attacked like I've said Satan Is King or I Support Child Pornography over at Conversations.

But this cool chick Nello has something to say about it!

Thanks K!

Breast vs. Bottle

2005-09-26T10:34:00.000-05:00

Check out this whacky debate regarding Britney and her inability to breastfeed over at Conversations About Famous People here: Read the Comments Under Britney's Breast Dilemma Post from Sept. 25

What Could Be Better On A Monday?

2005-09-26T10:16:00.000-05:00

Does it get any better than this? This morning is a bit overcast but the sun is breaking through to what promises to be a really beautiful fall day. I open my front door, see my neighbor in her car, and she yells to me:

"Do you want a coffee?"

I quick write down my order, hand her the slip of paper and my five bucks, apologizing for not having on a bra or brushing my teeth yet.

Ten minutes later, she's back with a grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalatte. And she gives me my money back, saying I can get the next round.

"I had them put EZ whip on it. You didn't write that part down."

Front door delivery service. And a neighbor friend who knows exactly what I want without me having to tell her...

Thanks Gina!

I love my neighbors.

(Okay, here's icing on the cake: another neighbor just came by and brought me a box of chocolate Pixies and a very sweet thank-you note for watching her daughters on Friday. If this is any indication of how my week is going to be... man, oh man! But this could be a bad thing between the whip and the Pixies as I was going to start counting points today... again!)

If You're Bored

2005-09-25T14:29:00.000-05:00

Cuz obviously I am, go on over to This Blog Tracker and rate Manic Mom's Mental Myriads, and if you're so inclined, please leave a *nice* comment so others can come over and read! (Manic Mom is either on or before number 32 on this list -- or, I think you can just look on over to your right on my sidebar and see that cute little blue rectangle over there? Just click on there and look for that number on the list.)

Thanks!

Chaser

2005-09-25T11:46:00.000-05:00

Do you coffee drinkers ever feel the need to have a cold Diet Pepsi chaser after slamming a hotgrandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattewithwhip and sugar cookies for breakfast?

I do.

In other news, I'm annoyed.

I think it's because I've felt like I'm dealing with a newborn the past few nights as Tukey is in "post-operative-recovery mode." I've slept with him every night and he tosses and turns, whimpers and cries, coughs like he's spitting up blood and saliva. It's been fun, and further convinces me that having another child is not in this chick's game plan. However...

I did have a wild dream last night that I had twin boys, named them Braden and Caden, and they actually breastfed, which had to be a dream because between my three children, I breastfed a total of eleven days between the three of them -- boy, am I good, or am I good?

So, Braden and Caden came out, no problem, didn't even hurt, and I was strolling them around and they looked like they were about three months old and we were by some quarry river thingy and Braden got lost and then we saw him at the bottom of the water and I freaked but then he started swimming like a maniac and then I thought, well, that makes sense because the kid had been swimming in a pond of amnio fluid for the past nine months so of course he would know how to swim. And then Hubby, who was the dad in the dream was at a pool party and drunk (gee, why does alcohol always surface in my dreams as well?) and I told him I had the kids but he didn't really care cuz he was drunk, but then I made him kill our rattlesnake we had as a pet because it was okay to have a rattlesnake as a pet when it was just us and Ajers and Diva and Tukey, but now that we had the twins, there were BABIES in the family, and we couldn't have a pet rattlesnake in the house with babies. So, he killed the rattlesnake.

The End.

Wow, that was cool.

Last Saturday's Debauchery

2005-09-24T13:29:00.000-05:00

Well, "debauchery" was the word that came to mind, but when I looked it up in the dictionary, it says: extreme indulgence of one's appetites, especially for sexual pleasure, orgies.

That was not last Saturday's debauchery.

Okay, here's the word I think I meant -
Debacle: a breaking up of ice in a river, etc. or, which better fits, a stunning, ruinous collapse or failure, often ludicrously calamitous.

I don't feel like looking up Calamitous, but Debacle seems to fit the bill.

So, anyway, there was this charitable "socialite" event called The Green Tie Ball and seeing as I've never been to a Ball (I'm thinking Cinderella here), I was all hyped up to go, glass slippers, pumpkin, prince and all.

I searched and searched for an appropriate outfit, something sparkly and green, and lowcut, which I never, ever go low-cut, and if you'll notice in the picture, where do I get a blemish that weekend????

Right on the chest, glaring, mocking me, saying, "You can buy some nice costume jewelry for once in your life, but I'm going to completely sabotage you by popping out onto your chest, so no one notices the nice bauble around your neck because they're all too busy looking at that zit next to your push-up-bra enhanced boobies."

That should have been my clue to forgo the evening.

But anyway, I got the top for $19. (Didn't know not only am I witty and quirky, I am also quite the savvy shopper.)

So, even though I had the friendly blemish, I had found the 'perfect' jewelry for the event, had the right shoes, a flowy chiffon black skirt, free babysitting all night long, a Pricelined Chicago hotel room, and the gumption to PAR-TAY.

Well, I did. And hubby did. And about 4,000 other people in the city of Chicago did too. There were 50, yes, swear to you, 50 bars, all serving VOX Vodka, which I am never, never, never, ever drinking again (that brand at least!). There were three stages of live music all night long, and in this one picture, the lead singer grabbed my digital camera and took this photo of the crowd jamming:

There were 75 restaurants from Chicago represented, and I favored Morton's steak with a brown sauce over the top, Baby Lamb chops blackened with sesame seeds, and another restaurant where they were serving coconut-encrusted shrimp with a pineapple-tomato-y salsa.

This is where I went wrong. Where I always go wrong. I hadn't eaten much during that day, getting the kids ready to go to our friends' home overnight, packing my bag, doing laundry. So, yeah, I kind of forgot to eat. That's my excuse anyway, and I'm sticking to it, although the 12-15 cranberry vodkas with a splash of OJ didn't add to the situation in a very positive way.

I got my photo taken with Chicago radio personalities, Kathy and Eric from The Mix, and of course, me being me, the first thing I said to her was, "Weren't you talking about your boob job the other day?"

I met some very cool people at the event, some who's names I remember like these two classy chicks, Kerry and Kathy!

And some, I have no idea who the heck they are:

And then, we even ran into someone from college, who was fondly referred to as "The Butt" because he had a very nice tushy, and of course, I had to remind "The Butt" that he and Hubby had shared the same girlfriend at different stages in college, so technically, me and The Butt had been together if you look at it like that. Because, Nika was with The Butt, Hubby was with Nika, I was with Hubby, and by default, although never physically, I would then be associated with "The Butt." But, all I ever did was pose with him for a picture in Daytona one spring break while he was showing off "The Butt."

So, that is most of what I can recall, until Hubby reminded me we hijacked a taxi to get back to our hotel, telling the person already in the taxi that we would pay for her fair. Then Hubby reminded me (days later, when I could actually formulate a thought to match a sentence) that I had my feet sticking through the window to the front seat of the cab, and the driver had told us to "Get Out Of MY Taxi" more than once.

Then, I remember this: We're going up to our hotel room, and I feel the need to vomit. And this is really, really, really bad conduct for a thirty-six-year-old mother of three.

I projectile vomit the vodka, the shrimp, the steak, the baby lamb chops, the cranberry and OJ and more vodka...all over the wall just outside of our hotel room.
If I close my eyes hard enough, I can still see the stain seeping through the walls and down to the carpeted floor of the three-and-a-half star hotel we'd Pricelined for $132.

Somehow, inside, I manage to get out of my ball gown and toss on a jammy shirt. Then, instead of enjoying a romantic kids-free evening with my husband in a bed with 300-thread count sheets, I fight my way through the night stuck in a two-by-two bathroom. I couldn't find my way out. Seriously. Then, I gave up, and passed out.

Charming, aren't I?

I come to and find the door handle and with throbbing head, aching body, hot skin, raccooned eyes, matted hair, I make my way out to the bed. It's 8:45 a.m.

I sleep until 10 a.m. then we have to get home.

This is the very hardest thing to do. Get up. Fortunately, my Hubby, is actually Prince Charming, and although I've pulled this crap far more than my allotted share of times I should be allowed to get completely obliterated, he is a Prince forever, packing up all the stuff strewn all over the hotel room, getting out my bra and clothes, which I cannot even manage to put on and just pull on my dirty shorts to go with my puke stained jammy top. I cannot leave the room and continue to throw up.

Finally, I tell myself I have to get control. My body hurts so much, I cannot even urinate, I can't hold my head up, I can't look forward. My skin is hot, yet I'm shivering, my legs are weak, my mouth is dry, the smell of disinfectant outside our door slaps me right into retching-land and I cannot do anything.

Prince Charming gives me the plastic container from the inside of our insulated cooler and I grab a hotel towel... now I'm not only a drunk, but a thief too. We make it to the elevator door and I pray no one is there, but of course, a cute little family starts walking down the hall as I'm retching into the plastic container. I motion for Hubby to find the stairs. I sit on the stair and cry. I am pathetic. How and why would I do this to myself, to my body? I can't move.

Hubby offers to get the car and tells me to come down when I'm ready. For me, I could have curled up on that hard cement floor and slept until God knows when at that point. But I had to move. I wanted home, I wanted my bed. I wanted death. This is why it is not smart to drink like this. Nothing else is important. I wasn't thinking about my kids, my family, nothing. I was thinking death would have felt better.

In the car, which, by the way, this is a sidenote, I have thrown up in Hubby's car before, due to a similar drunken stupor, and that time, two of his employees were in the back seat. That's another story for another post... but, since I've been known to vomit in his car, he was sure as hell not going to allow me to do it in his very, very nice car that he has worked so very hard to afford and loves it so much that he doesn't even want food in it ever, and usually grimaces if the kids need to go in it. But, that's his baby, and he has a right to want to keep it nice.

So, I don't, (thank God, and this saves our marriage, I am certain) puke in the car, and we make it home, with me demanding that there is no music on, no windows open, no traffic report played). I am in the front seat, head between my legs with the cold stolen towel placed over my head to keep out the sunlight, and my face in the container. We arrive home.

Prince Charming has now evolved into a King because he sends me to bed, goes to our friends home where the kids are, and he stays there with them watching the Bears game and hanging out until 6:30 at night. I lay in bed the whole, whole day, except for a couple retching moments and a half-hour steaming hot shower at 2:30 in the afternoon. Prince Charming aka now the King calls before he comes home and I ask him to get me some McD's french fries and a milkshake, which he does, which I absolutely cannot eat even at 7 p.m. that night.

I feel sorry for the kids. I feel as I had let everyone down that day, all because of overconsumption of alcohol. I just don't know when to stop. This weekend however, is an alcohol-free weekend and I am drying out. I may need to start setting limits because more than just my body will be affected.

Now, as a post-script, my married-mom-friends tell me not to beat myself up over this; it's because I don't drink on a regular basis; it's because I am a Stay-At-Home Mom and events like this don't come around often; it's because there are so few nights just to get out and do and be and say and act however I want.

Heck, maybe I can blame this all on the kids!

Tagged; I'm It!

2005-09-23T10:50:00.000-05:00

I was Blog-tagged by This Talented Writer so I'm going to play along:

Ten years ago: Twenty-six years old, working ...(oh my God, this is HARD to remember!)... for, I think, a trade-show management company, and doing the DINK thing (double-income, no kids). I can't even remember if we were taking vacations, having lots of sex, or what? How terrible is my memory right now... Let's see, we were living in our first owned condo, and I think we may have just gotten our very first pet, Puck, a black and white kitty who unfortunately, kicked it under the knife a few months later, leaving behind another furry pal, Buko. Since we bought Buko to keep Puck company, we had to go out and get another furry pal, Cyclops, who, as you probably surmised... had only one eye. The cutest little black kitty with pink stitches over what would have been his eye -- had a tumor in his eye removed.

Five years ago: Okay, here's how much of a nerd I am. I went looking for my journals because I was writing in them five years ago. We were living in Philadelphia at the time, and were considering getting pregnant with our third child. Since I don't have an excerpt dated September 23, 2000, I'll post the closest one, which is September 21, 2000:

AJ, you win the cute award today. You came up to me when I was in the laundry room and said, "Can I just ask you one question?"

It was in such a cute little boy voice that you have. I thought you would ask me for an icee or chocolate milk or a treat, and I said, "What is your question?"

This is what you said:

"I lub you wit my all of my heart."

To die for! You win the cutest boy award ever!

and then September 24, 2000:

You have both been sick the past week. AJ, you were puking last weekend, and this weekend it's been McK. It always ends up on me, every time. Get better munchkins. I love you, Mommy.

So, that was what I was doing almost exactly five years ago today.

One year ago: One year ago tomorrow (Because I looked at my old calendar), I flew to Chicago to find a home over the weekend. Hubby had been working in Chicago since the end of July, I was in Philly trying to get all the loose ends together for our move. We didn't have a home. This weekend it will be one year since we found the home we live in... which is the result of a 36-hour search, where we saw 35 homes. And the one we bought: Number 35! And we couldn't be happier with our choice.

Yesterday: If you read yesterday's post, you know I was not in a good frame of mind. But everyone who took the time to comment and offer words of wisdom and support and who said such nice things ... you all have given me some hope, and I know that I can't give up! So, thank you all very much!

Five songs I know all the words to:
This one is hard, does Itsy-Bitsy Spider Count?
And does it have to be five I know the words to, or five I love?
Shit. Can't do it.

Five snacks:
Cookie dough (yesterday's post)
Chips and refried beans with sour cream
Hmmm... if I could have any snack right now, what would it be?...
McDonald French Fries (Large and salted, of course!)
Nonfatsugarfreevanillalatteeasywhip or a cafevanillafrappacinowithwhip, which is what I had this a.m.
Starbucks seasonal sugar cookie

Five Things I'd Do With $100 Million:
Publish my own damn books and/or start my own literary agency with other writers
Hire a personal chef to make all meals
Hire a personal laundress (is that a word) to do all the laundry
Buy books, books, books.
Get a pair of 2-carat each diamond earring studs.

That's not being too selfish or greedy, is it?

Five places I'd run away to:
My bedroom.
Barnes & Noble.
Grand Cayman, specifically Rum Point.
That place you go when you do Shivasana in Yoga.
That place you go when you have an orgasm.

Five things I'd never wear:
Docker beige khaki pants
A shirt that says, "It's All About Me" like this snot does
Foundation or base
A frown
A bikini

Five favorite (TV shows) books:
Gonna have to go with books here, since I don’t have TV. Ditto on the books, but not because I don't have a TV, just because I don't watch it.

She's Come Undone, Wally Lamb
Lucky, Alice Sebold
All Jennifer Weiner's books
An Egg on Three Sticks, Jackie Fischer, which I just read and it is AWESOME!
Authors:
Emily Giffin, Tom Perrotta, Anne Lamott, Judy Blume, so many....

Five greatest joys:
Hubby
Ajers
Diva
Tukey
Family
Friends
Books
Yummy treats
Thank you's
Unsolicite Kisses
This Rainbow:

Favorite toys:
Books
My computer
My AlphaSmart
My Digital Camera
My Good Luck Care Bear from sophomore year in H.S. that I just 'gave' to Diva
Jewelry, specifically diamonds
A credit card not maxed out
Food

Five people to tag:
Nancy French
My Pal DD
Tommy Doc
Super Mom
This Pregnant Momma

Of course, I would LOVE if you're a regular visitor to please also copy and paste and include your answers in the comments section!

Current Reads:
Just finished An Egg On Three Sticks, which I had left in the vomit-filled hotel room the night of the Green Tie Blahh, so I had to buy another copy, which is a very, very, very small price to pay for the events that took place that night.

Now I will dive into Goodnight Nobody over the weekend.

Rejection = Depression + Worms

2005-09-22T13:42:00.000-05:00

Why does Rejection make me want to eat? Why do I feel the need to rip open the Market Day cookie dough in the freezer and devour it all, after already finishing the baked cookies?

I received another Rejection email today, and for the first time I felt like maybe this isn't going to happen; maybe it's not supposed to happen. I felt like somebody kicked me in the gut. I feel this way right now.

But, all I want to do is to write, and if you keep getting notes from people saying "It's not for me," or "I'll have to bow out," or some other nice way of telling you your book is crap, then how do you keep believing that it's not?

Cookie dough awaits. I wish this crappy feeling would go away, but the only way for it to dissolve is to send out more letters to more agents, and get more Rejections from agents, in the hopes of finding that one trueagent love.

On another note: Never, ever, never, and may I repeat, NEVER let your daughter bring home a cute little Ziploc of acorns she discovered at G'ma and G'pa's home because inevitably, the little tiny creatures who live inside those acorns are going to want out, and when they come out, they will look like little maggoty larvae and will wriggle across the floor in your home, make you freak out that your children have some sort of worm disease, or that your pantry is infested with little larvae-like buggies, and that your whole house is completely disgusting and dirty and how can this be, and then you call Orkin who comes out right away, does some spraying, but cannot discover the source of the problem so you think, "Okay, maybe it was my imagination" but then you discover ANOTHER one of those squishy, mealy things and you tear the laundry room closet apart and discover the rotting acorns, the place of life and death of those squirmy, gross, disgusting, yucky thingies, which, by the way, the Orkin man did mention that they're just protein, and if I had been on Survivor, these worms are actually small enough that you could swallow one whole and probably not vomit it back up.

According To The Doc...

2005-09-21T12:11:00.000-05:00

Tukey's tonsils were HUGE! He did great through it all, except for vomitting his two orange popsicles and tylenol with codeine up in the car on the way home. (Gee, must take after his mom!).

Now he's snoozing on the couch, and I'm headed there myself. We had to be at the hospital at 5:30 a.m. so we're tired!

Thanks for all the good thoughts sent Tukey's way. I feel like he's famous. You guys are the best! S.

Completely Unrelated To The Post Below

2005-09-20T05:44:00.000-05:00

Today, Jen Weiner's fourth novel, Goodnight Nobody comes out. I'm soooo getting it! She is my Author Stalkee, and I don't know how I'm going to find the time to read it, but you can bet I will finish it by the weekend!

(I can probably read it while I'm couch-bound with Tukey, who is getting his tonsils removed tomorrow a.m., in yet another completely unrelated topic of conversation.)

I've met her twice, been emailing back and forth (yes, she responds, and she's really cool), have all the books signed by her, and am looking at a picture where she is hugging ME right this very minute!

She's not only My Author Stalkee, but My Author Idol.

Shout out to Jen because I know she reads my Blog daily too! Hee. Hee.

Completely Unrelated To Saturday's Events

2005-09-20T05:26:00.000-05:00

I dreamed about the Ex again last night.

Well, really, it wasn't last night because it's like 5:26 a.m. so it just recently occurred and I couldn't fight my way back to sleep, and I promised HSPQ I would run with her this a.m. because now I'm a runner. Ha. At least I'm trying. Now to quit the alcohol consumption (which was Saturday's debacle, and I will outline it for you soon, not sure if I'm going the hilarious route or the pathetic route--still feeling pathetic over it all - in a few more days it might be funny).

So, the Ex:

It was like a Seinfeld Episode TV show and it was called something like, "Whatever Happened To Joe Byrnes." Not his real name, but for those of you who know me, you know the first name is real, and you're probably like, "Are you seriously still hung up on him? He was a jerk, he was an ass, he was a... " The list goes on and on. Why do we women (and men too?) get hung up on those that were the worst in some aspects? (Probably because they were pretty damned good in 'other' ways. Sheee-ott.)

So, this Seinfeld Episode had everyone searching for JB, and no one knew where he was, but they interviewed people who used to know him, and then at the end of the 30-minute sitcom, there was an altar, which kind of looked like something out of Survivor now that I think about it - with fire and some stones surrounding the area. There was a document on top of the altar, like a large sized excel document spreadsheet, and it listed the names of all the girls he either loved or dated, not really sure, because remember, it's an "effing" dream. But the middle half had been torn away from the list. My name, and the actual address I lived at when we were 'doing-that-not-dating-thing-but-together-anyway' was on the list.

My name was the last name on the list before it said:

Reality...
Reality...
Reality...
On which I interpreted that after he and I were through 'doing-that-not-dating-thing-but-together-anyway' he finally found what he was looking for (U2 song inserted here). True love out there somewhere who would accept all the BS about him.

Or, maybe I changed him. Remember, it's a dream. I can interpret it many ways.

And there were other girls there on the list but I had won because I was the last name listed, except for the fact that everyone there knew he had gotten married, although no one knew where he was.

What does this mean? And why am I so sure the next novel I write is completely about JB, with some fictional stuff inserted to keep it fake? Hmmm...

OK

2005-09-19T22:55:00.000-05:00

I'll be fine for sure in the a.m. and will post about the "Green Tie Blahhhhh."

Hitting the Pinnacle

2005-09-19T08:11:00.000-05:00

If there truly is a point in one's life where you have to step back, think of what you're doing to yourself, your family, your life, then I think I've hit that point. I have to get my thoughts together, and my act together, too.

This Blog may no longer be funny.

PS...If you were directed to this Blog from meeting me on Saturday night, I probably have a photo or two of you. Drop me a comment..

Movie Chat

2005-09-17T00:08:00.000-05:00

So, forgot to mention this fun little pasttime I enjoyed while traveling through airports last weekend.

Hub and I would be passing by random people (mind you, I am a mother, so this joke was not shared IN FRONT OF CHILDREN!).

I would 'pretend' to be talking to Hubby and say:

"Hey, did you ever see that movie, Meet the Fuckers?"

Okay, so it has to be completely weird that it is 12:10 a.m. and I am in my office laughing out loud at the hilarity of it all...Meet the Fuckers... hahahah...

Make Believe

2005-09-16T08:19:00.000-05:00

I played Make Believe with hubby the other night. Nooooo, it wasn't a bed-time fantasy either.

He had some shinding downtown at Millenium Park or which I now fondly call, "Bean Park." I mean, that bean thing is beautiful, but what's the point, and isn't that the same sculpture thing that Tiffany's sells as a line of jewelry?

Anyway, I had to get all dressed up, but this was AFTER a day of the usual mom stuff, plying Tukey away from my arms as I sent him off to Preschool (which, he is getting better, but it'll all be screwed up again next week when he has his tonsils removed and misses a few days of school). So, a usual day, combined with making a list for the babysitter, trying to organize the kids' schedules that afternoon since I would be gone, which is a job 'in and of' itself. (What the hell does that phrase mean anyway, "In and of itself." I don't like that - it's stupid sounding, but I felt like writing it.)

So, I quick grab the two eldest from the bus and hightail it to Tukey's prison (aka preschool) because I've got like eight minutes in between the arrival of Diva and Ajers and the dismissal of Tukey. That makes for some fun driving, let me tell you!

Rush home, fast-quick get ready, which thankfully, all my hair involves is bending at the waist, blowdrying it quick upside down, flipping back up and a little bit of hairspray, which, by the way, is the cheap stuff but it works. No other hair products -- go ahead you metrosexuals, hate me! Throw on the clothes, which is a designer skirt with fun red, black, white polka dot design print from TJ Maxx & More. I just realized I could have asked everyone "Hey, what's black and white and red all over?" and the answer would have been ME!

Next, my neighbor friend drives our girls to gymnastics while her one-year old flings milk from his sippy cup all over, including my top. No biggie, it's not like I'm wearing silk -- polyester stretch is easy to clean up! Get to the train and I feel like a grown up. There are no children there. Just adults. Getting on the train going home from work. I am totally out of my element. I mean, where do I pay for me ticket, how do I know when to get off the train? Where is the drink cart so I can get a freaking glass of wine?!?!?!?

I get to the city early, and Hubby tells me to go to the bar at Union Station and have a drink since he won't be there yet. So, I do. And it feels weird, but exhilarating at the same time. I've only gone to a bar by myself ... well, never, really, unless I was already wasted, and I probably don't remember that.

I order a glass of Pinot Grigio and sit there, trying to look... well, like I'm not alone. Because there are work people (GROWN UPS!) all around me having cocktails after work, chit-chatting about their day, what's up for the weekend, etc, and here I am wondering if the neighbor picked up Ajers for soccer yet, and how Tukey is doing with his separation anxiety.

I slam the wine. I tinker with my cell phone, pretending to look important. I think the guy next to me is probably cute, but I'm too scared to look his way, and when I do, I see he is smoking Camels so any cuteness factor just went out the door.

Hubby calls. I am saved. I leave the station, meet up with him and we go to another place, China Grill, where I get a delicious appletini, complete with cinnamon-enhanced apple slice and a stale cocktail cherry.

Later, we meet up with some of his co-workers, and I beg them to let me sit with the wife, because she is a mom who is pregnant and we have SO MUCH IN COMMON! We both have children, we both have been pregnant. I am saved.

At Millenium Park, it is truly beautiful. I've not been there since it was created, and I wish I had more time to explore the area, but heck, the bar set-up at the event was about to close because dinner was being served in these huge, I mean really huge, big tents. But before we go into our designated dining tent, we have to smile at some important people; I met a senator or two, but couldn't tell you who they were, what they supported, why they were there... I am soooo not politically-inclined.

All the time though, I kept a smile on my face, kept my shoulders back and my boobs out, laughed when I thought I was supposed to. And I felt like I was starring in a movie, and it was all a big pretend thing, and inside my head, I laugh to myself, and think, "Do these people know I enjoy playing with sticky tongues and fake poo?"

Next up, where I'm sure I'll also feel completely out of my league (because there will be twenty-somethings abound with low-cut slinky dresses and cornacopias of fake boobies) -- Chicago's ultimate event, The Green Tie Ball. Where I'm thinking, anything goes....

"Holy Crack!"

2005-09-15T15:30:00.000-05:00

Tukey asked me if "Holy Crack" was a bad word. I said, "Depends on whose crack we're talking about."

DD's Girlfriend

2005-09-14T12:05:00.000-05:00

I think I know who My Pal DD is smitten by! DD, could the initials be SS?
Hmmmm......?

THIS A.M.

2005-09-14T06:33:00.000-05:00

The phone rings at 5:50 a.m. I reach for it.

"I hate you." I say.

HSPQ, equally cheerful says, "It's RAINING!"

I tell her she can just come over here and we can do the treadmill together.

Ha. Ha.

So, I guess my marathon training will have to wait.

Instead of going back to sleep, I decide to get up and use this quiet hour-and-a-half to get some writing done.

How in the heck do the kids know? Two-thirds of them are up at six a.m. today, and the littlest one is already saying, "I hate school. I don't want to go. I'm scared of school. I will miss you." This is THE SAME EXACT SCHOOL HE ATTENDED LAST YEAR, IN THE SAME CLASS ROOM, WITH THE SAME TWO EXACT TEACHERS. How has one summer changed my Tukey from a model student into a sobbing little preschooler? Was being home with me every single day for three months really all that great?

I suggest to Tukey that we go upstairs and lie down in his room, since he usually sleeps for two more hours in the a.m. We lie in his bed and he tells me he wants to pray to God. Of course, I am gushing, my little boy is so adorable. He likes to pray with his ceramic cross that is on his wall and he asks me to get it down for him.

His little fists grip the cross, his eyes are slammed shut tight, he is deep in thought, ready to converse with the Lord.

"Dear Jesus. I love you. Very, very much. And I do not want to go at school today. Amen."

Post Script: He is still telling me he is not going to school. I keep telling him he is going to go to school.

"You and Dad are not the boss of me. God is."

"And God wants you to go to school today," I say.

His reply, rolling around on the carpet and whining: "And then I am going to throw up on your face."

It's going to be a LFD, that's for sure.

This A.M.

2005-09-13T07:14:00.000-05:00

The phone rings at 5:50 a.m. and it's my trusty walker friend, HSPQ, waking me to walk.

Me: "It's so dark out, let's go back to bed." I say this to her as if we are snoozing together!

TWF aka HSPQ: "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!"
She yells so damn loud into my ear I am sure she has just woken my three beautiful children and doting husband.

I get up. It's practically pitch dark out. I join Hubby downstairs where he is eating his requisite bowl of Cheerios and banana.

Hubby: "Know what I hate?"

Me: "What?"

Hubby: "When those fucking kids hide the remote."

Those "fucking kids" he is referring to are sleeping angelicly upstairs. I growl at him and remind them our kids are not "fucking kids."

So, we walk this a.m. and I tell Trusty Walker Friend, aka HSPQ that she should train me to run in a race, like a three mile one or something easy like that.

"That's called a Five K."

Whatever. I was never good at math. But I'm serious, so if Trusty Walker Friend wants to be now known as Trusty Marathon Trainer, then I'm up for the challenge. Now, to find a race.

So, we part ways, having an excellent power walk, great conversation coupled with laughs and gossip. It's a great way to start the morning, and the sun is now peeking over the trees.

At home, I dive into the shower, happy that none of my "fucking kids" are up yet, because I know they need their sleep. Hubby leaves for work, and minutes later, as I'm drying off from the shower and getting dressed Ajers walks in.

I decide this is a nice, quiet time where he and I can discuss his little problem with exaggerating, embellishing the truth... LYING!

This is an example I offer him: I tell him if he were ever to do something bad, like say, drugs, I would want him to tell me the truth and not lie about it. Although drugs are bad, lying is bad too, and I would be more mad at him for lying about doing drugs than for the actual drug use. (Wait?!?!? Did I just say that to a seven-year old? Of course, we all know I am referring to the light-hearted drugs so many of us adults have experimented with in like college, and not elementary school OF COURSE... okay, so maybe my choice of example was a bad one.)

But, I go on to explain to him that people will like him no matter what and that he doesn't need to lie to sound like a more interesting person, and that I don't want him doing it anymore.

His brow furrows and I know he is really considering these nuggets of wisdom I have just shared with him. After a few seconds of what I am sure is pure introspection on his part, he looks up at me, those eyes filled with the knowledge of becoming a better person and he says...

"Can you put your shirt on?"

Manic Mom On 20/20?

2005-09-12T22:49:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I get a phone call today from a number that doesn't register on my Caller ID and I stifle the urge to not answer it, and then answer it anyway. Because, you know, I like to talk to strangers, especially strange solicitors.

Woman on Phone: "I'm sure you've gotten quite a few calls like this, but are you the Stephanie Elliot from Woodridge who was quoted in Parents magazine?"

"Yeah." (Not really. No one has called. No one is beating down my door for words of infinite wisdom. Of course, the issue is October, and it's only September.)

And already, I have a sense that it's Demi Moore on the other line, set up by Ashton to PUNK me. Ashton's always trying to get back at me for dumping him when we were in high school. The kid is out of control. Can't he just live happily with Demi and his millions now and let me be?

Turns out, the person calling is someone from ABC NEWS who read my quote in Parents, and they are doing a segment on "Striving to Be The Perfect Parent" that is slated to air in November, and she wanted to know if I'd be interested in talking with a producer and possibly have 20/20 come into my home, follow us around, see if I really do need the drugs. And she asked if I could give them the exclusive interview, as if I am expecting NBC, FOX, CBS and God knows who else to be banging down the door. But, hey, 20/20 chick, you've got the exclusive baby, and I'll tell you anything you wanna know!

So, I of course, call the number back later, just to confirm it's not Ashton and Demi and Rumor and Scout, playing a cruel joke on me, and it's not. It's really the person she said she is, and really from ABC in NYC.

A million thoughts run through my mind, and I have to laugh at the prospect of someone following me around all day long. I think they would love the fact that my seven-year-old son has to WAKE ME UP in order for him to get to school on time; that I have to make chocolate chip pancake sandwiches in order for Diva to eat; that I lounged around for an hour with Tukey watching Dora and Blues Clues (both episodes I hadn't seen!); that I had to put on Tukey's shoes four times and threaten him to keep them on before I took him to preschool; that I then had to sit in the "viewing room" at preschool for ONE-AND-A-HALF hours of my TWO HOURS OF FREE TIME torturing myself by watching Tukey cry because he didn't want to be there today; that I had to ground Ajers for exaggerating and doing something else he knows he's not supposed to do (which, in turn, turned out to be a good thing, because since he didn't go outside, he didn't get all sweaty so he didn't need his nighttime shower tonight), that I actually made something that resembled dinner tonight, but not before all three kids requested AND RECEIVED bowls of Peanut Butter Crunch (Ajers), Cinnamon Life (Tukey), and a mixture of PB Crunch and Cocoa Puffs (for Diva) before the dinner was actually served; and that Tukey is now fast asleep in his birthday outfit gear from his aunt and uncle, complete with reversible ski jacket and cargo pants instead of a simple pair of Rescue Hero jammies.

Oh yeah, if they show up on this doorstep, they might have to make it a two-hour special!

Then, I'm thinking, Oh wow, what if the Ex reads about me/sees us on television; how the hell am I going to make this house 'television-worthy' and most importantly, how the hell can I lose twenty pounds before a camera crew arrives??!?!?!? Shit--THIRTY--doesn't the camera add an extra ten. I'm screwed.

I'm sure nothing will come from this, but if it does, everyone will have to agree that it pays to be Manic Mom! (I hadn't even told the ABC person calling that my alter ego is Manic Mom!)

Keep Ya Posted.

Buffalo, NY

2005-09-12T12:00:00.000-05:00

The Answer.

(BUFFALO)Mozzarella and (BUFFALO) chicken (WINGS) too,
and something you can see at the zoo (BUFFALO),
We're taking a trip, out to the east,
To a place probably fit for a beast (BUFFALO).

Somebody had a wedding date set,
While we're there, we may get wet (NIAGRA FALLS),
For there's sightseeing to do, if there is time
To visit this place before the wedding bells chime!

The Falls/Rainbow

The Falls on the Maid of the Mist boatride

Two Brides?

I'll Leave You With This

2005-09-09T07:32:00.000-05:00

Tukey, touching himself *there*--
"Daddy, I always play with my balls, right here."

Happy Birthday to my Hubby, and we're off to Sea World, or the Serengeti, or somewhere equally exciting!

Have a terrific weekend!

A Little Riddle For Ya!

2005-09-08T21:14:00.000-05:00

Mozzarella and chicken too,
and something you can see at the zoo,
We're taking a trip, out to the east,
To a place probably fit for a beast.

Somebody had a wedding date set,
While we're there, we may get wet,
For there's sightseeing to do, if there is time
To visit this place before the wedding bells chime!

Can you guess where we will be?
If you're not sure, you'll have to wait and see!
We'll return home late on Sunday,
Sans hangover, I can only pray!

P.S.--If you're a friend who ALREADY knows where we're going, please don't comment and spoil the fun! Thanks! Mighty clever, if I do say so myself!

Have a fabulous weekend! I'm still trying to figure out how to lose ten pounds before Saturday's wedding festivities!

I've Got To Join The Ranks Now Too...

2005-09-08T00:10:00.000-05:00

Okay, I've had it. I've put up with it for too long; the acne emails, the electronic devices, weight loss plans. I can handle a few anonymous spam comments, but when the penile implantation ones arrive, it's time to turn on the Word Verification feature that I loathe. But I loathe it less than the pornographic anonymous spam comments.

Sorry, I hate to do that, and I hope it won't stop you fine legitimate people from commenting.

On a-completely-nother (isn't that just the strangest formation of words? It should be on another completely) different subject...

Christa and I are trying to figure out how to spell the word that sounds like this:

FAH-SEE-SHUS, or also a term used to show sarcasm. I thought it began with a PH; Christa thought it began with an F.

Whoever can enlighten me will be awarded a signed copy of 40 Weeks. (Yes, I know. It would be a whole helluva lot more appealing if the book was agented, contracted, published, but hey, at least it's written!)

Phacecious
Phoecicious
Facescious
Fecesious... okay, this is just now reminding me of my fake poo pictures.

Silly Stuff Part Two (or Too Much Time on My Hands...)

2005-09-07T23:18:00.000-05:00

Because life is just too darned short to be serious all the time. And you know, everyone deep down wants to play with sticky tongues and fake poo, right?

Silly Stuff

2005-09-07T22:37:00.000-05:00

Hey - Remember the fake poo I bought Tukey for his fourth birthday?

Well, sometimes you just have to take the time to play and laugh. And that's what we did on Monday --

Transit Blogging

2005-09-07T22:31:00.000-05:00

Get This And Blog Whenever You Feel Like It: Neo Alphasmart
(Excuse the typos--too tired to go back in and correct. See, I told you I weren't perfekt!)

I've resorted to transit blogging and am typing this entry on a swing at the elementary school while Tukey is playing at the playground and Ajers is across the field playing soccer. Diva is on her way home from Gymnastics with a neighbor and Hubby is out of town. It might seem like this is frivolous for me to spending the onlly free time of my day practically typing away sharing what I've done with all of you. But I don't consider you strangers. You are my friends, you listen to me bitch about the trivial things that happen in my life, and you don't judge me (and if you do, then I just removed your comments anyway! ha). So, it's nice to know that every day I can shut down for a few minutes and just talk to you.

So, what a day. I have been inand out of the car countless times, in fact, I'm going to try to figure out just how many times I opened my minivan door, got in, closed it, drove somewhere, got out and repeated those same actions. Let's see:
9:30--in car to take Tuke to Parent's Open House at his Parents Day Out program, where really I felt bummed out because not too many of the moms were very friendly, and I tried to engage their children in play, putting a puppet on my hand and talking to them, doing a puzzle with a little guy, while all the moms just gossipped and caught up on summer. I felt left out. Also, many of them had little ones, littler than Tuke and while I should be thrilled to be the seasoned mom, the one who gets actual time alone a few days a week, I still felt sad. I don't want another baby; I definitely do not feel lacking in that department; it's just sad to see my kids growing up and needing me less, while the whole time they were hanging on my ankles, I was wishing for moments like this, moments where I could pee in peace, have a latte (go ahead, say it with me: a grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattehalfwhip), and possibly browse the bookstore in the section I want to be in, not the Dr. Seuss section!

So, after feeling gloomy at the first stop at Tuke's Parents Day Out program, we did spend some time in the playground and Tuke was so happy to be able to do the monkey bars which were just the right size and height for him. He was cheeping and chirping like a monkey, squawking and saying, "I'm a monkey". I was a proud momma.

So, in the car once, out of the car once: 2

Next, we climb back in the trusty Windstar and get Tuke's haircut

In and out once more: 4 times

To the Hallmark store and then to the grocery store for a slice of pizza for lunch.

six times in and out of the car.

Off to Tuke's first day of preschool, which he handled fine as he has the same teacher and same classroom as last year. My heart broke for those mommies who had little girls crying and screaming, begging to go back home.

Then, I did smile to myself a little bit, happy that I didn't have a snivelling, crying growth attached to me, and I bolted. To the mall.

Back in the car, and out again. The count is now at 8.

Frenzied returns at the mall--nothing glamorous, but I do have to say if you're a Victoria Secret's bra wearer, you might be interested in the JCPenney's Delicate brand which are soooo comfy and I bought two, got one free, for HALF the price of two Vicky bras. Hence, I returned the Vicky purchase, but not without buying some new undies, nothing sexy I assure you (Bird Girl!). So, for the same amount of two bras at Vicky's I ended up getting three bras at JCP AND ten new pairs of undies. How's that for smart shopping.

Gee, this post didn't start with me detailing my undergarment purchase. Sorry.

Done at the mall, rush home to the bus--in and out once more totalling 10. Greet the moms at the bus, who are the sweetest nicest group of girlfriends! I used to see Bus Moms all bounded together, drinking their morning coffee, walking their four-legged pets and it seemed so surreal. Such a thing I would never fit into. I pull up to the stop and announce to the ladies, "It's so hot I have my bra unhooked," (one of my new ones by the way.). I hate the leather seats in my car and would not have ever gotten them if it wasn't the only available minivan on the lot.

Grab Ajers and Diva (who has to pee) and we rush to the preschool to get Tuke.

12 are we up to now?

My neighbor is picking up her son and says she's going to Starbucks and did we want to go. I had been figuring out how to sneak in a grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalatte at some point in the day and took this 18 minutes of free time to do so.

14.

Back home, I am yelling to Diva to get her gymnastics outfit on; Ajers is upstairs pooping; Luke is 'banging a squirt in the powder room, standing up because he can finally do it without spraying everywhere. Then he announces that he pooped.

"You have to go poop?"

"No, I already did."

As he was standing peeing, it just sort of came out. Ugh. So now I am already ten minutes away from missing gymnastics, I have to pick up the neighbor kids who also go to gymnastics, Diva is screaming that she too has to poop now, and I have to clean up shit.

And believe it or not, I have yet to take a Xanax today. You're proud of me, I just know it!

Back in the car, and out again at gymnastics, to drop Diva and her friends off. 16.

Need gas next, and am so very proud to have found it for under $3.00. Barely. And it was only $70.44 to fill the tank. 18 in and outs.

Library to return overdue videos. What? You actually thought I'd take out BOOKS? That would involve READING to the kids. Videos are much more entertaining. 19 and 20 in and outs of the car.

Home, for 20 minutes to check emails, where I read one from my BZ boss, asking if I would like to take on more duties for the newsletter. I promptly email her back, telling her yes, but that I also think freelance editors are making more per hour than I am. I hope I didn't bite the hand that feeds me.

And I read some very nice comments about my WHY post, and I truly appreciate all your thoughts. I didn't really feel I should post about it because what happened did happen to a close friend of mine who reads this blog, but I wanted her to know how sorry I was. She did lose her baby. At 25 weeks. I could blog for days about babies born still, as another very close friend of mine lost her daughter at 38-1/2 weeks, and I took her to the hospital and was there next to her when the resident OB did the ultrasound, and his Adam's Apple just plummetted, and I knew. It's tragic, and I pray for those angel babies, and know that although it's completely uncomprehensible to know why it happens, there is a higher meaning for all of this. And someday, we will all understand, and think back, "Oh, so that's what it was all about down there on Earth."

That's my feeling anyway.

So, thanks kind friends and readers, for taking the time to read my thoughts, for making me feel better by your comments, for being understanding and non-judgmental. For just listening. For however many people thing blogging is a huge time-waster, I have to disagree. It makes me feel better. It's cheaper than therapy, and I like to think I've made some friends this way.

Number 21-22, pick up neighbor to take to soccer with Ajers.

And I am still not done. I have Parent Orientation for Diva and Ajers tonight, one of which I will miss most of by driving home after soccer, but oh well. One can only do so much.

I feel better. I could write forever, thinking that I have some people out there that listen, that want to know what I'm thinking about, that care. I do think it's better than therapy, and as I sit here with my Tukey on this playset, while he whispers in my ear that he loves me "four", I know for as much griping, complaining, bitching I do, I am in a good place. A safe place. A place filled with love, and yes, a little bit of stress, but nothing like what others experience. I feel lucky. I even feel lucky to be able to feel the slight headache that is starting in my head.

Thanks for listening. Sorry for rambling. And feel free to turn the channel whenever you get bored. M4 (Total times in and out of the car today--stopped counting at TWENTY-SIX!)

TRAIN 2003

2005-09-07T22:16:00.000-05:00

(Fiction, per C's request)

Have you ever considered, seriously wondered, what it would be like to lie down on railroad tracks, to place your life in instant danger? For eventually a train would tear through the tracks, and change the lives of everyone who knew you. Maybe appreciate you more.

The morning was one like I had never experienced, spiritually, or visually. The sky was the color of the purest blue that bounces off a prism in a kitchen window on a sparkling day. The cotton clouds were three-dimensional and blinding white, like the kind of snow that makes you shut your eyes and hope for a fast melt. They gave you a feeling of wanting to sleep, to never wake, to just climb up on one of those clouds and drown in it.

It was the kind of day that makes you contemplate life, death and all the shitty stuff in between.

I'd always believed in God, and respected and feared something greater than what I'd known. I attended church, semi-regularly, where I'd almost always put something into the brass pan during the offering, at least when Daniel attended with me. When he wasn't there, I'd pretend to drop in my envelope, when really, it was empty, no name on the front, no amount written in under the line My Offering. I figured God knew my predicaments, after all, He was partly to blame, wasn't he? So surely, He, being all-knowing, all-forgiving, wouldn't condemn.

I had a God-touching moment that day, the day I went near the tracks. It wasn't as if He was speaking directly to me. It was more like He was with me, guiding me in the direction of the railroad, to a place I wouldn't have gone on my own. I could sense a higher being in the windless atmosphere, almost a whispering but with no leaves brushing against the branches.

His planet stretched out ahead of me, this quiet midwestern countryside dotted with farms - some working and smelling of cow manure, and some wrecked, torn apart from the years of wind and rain and snow pounding upon the roofs. I imagined these were fine dwellings for families of stray cats.

The trees were bare and twigs stretched outward, arms in mocking prayer. Autumn winds had stripped them of their leaves, these branches raised, asking for something. Patch-quilt snow covered the land. Everything was so lonely. Me included.

I felt I had been walking that long stretch of road for days, just walking and thinking, being unhappy, feeling as if the naked trees were better off than I. Was, or would ever be.

Just when I was about to turn around and head back to the cause of my unhappiness, I reached the top of the hill and saw the familiar criss-cross yellow and black warning sign of the tracks.

"I'll walk to the tracks, cross, and then turn around for home." Then, another thought rumbled through my mind, much like a train tearing through a quiet empty town, "What if I didn't turn around?"

The desire struck me much like the impact of the train would. How would it feel to lie on the wood that stretched past the horizon, to feel the steel of the tracks jab into my spine, to grab fistfuls of rock and gravel, to focus on the spectacular prism of the sky, to hear the nothingness as a still wind eased through the naked trees. I imagine the hard crushing wheels of the train, runnig over my body, splurting blood and organs across miles. Ending my tired and worthless thoughts, useless dreams and pointless wishes.

I reach the gravelly surface, and look to the horizon, for an answer, I'm not sure, and the stray dog I see in the distance certainly doesn't have the answers I need. I take a step forward, and am sturdy on the tracks, just about ready to lie down, when I hear it. The low, dull moan of a train's whistle in the distance beyond the bare trees taunts me, challenges me. The sound is far enough away that I can still think, but the sharp jangle of the cross rails start clanging, and they begin to lower, encasing me between ahead and behind, right smack in the here-and-now. I'm plummeted back into my worthless reality, am once again defeated, and I stumble backwards off the tracks.

The sound is deafening, even to my dull ears, so tired of listening to the words my head keeps saying, over and over, and over again. For some reason, the warning signals blaring, the whistle shrilling, and the rush of the wind as the train cars pass, whip me into the here and now, the place I'm never comfortable.

Seven train cars rush by, each one saying, "you've failed, you've failed, you've failed." Over and over. It's deafening.

The last train shuttles past, and the conductor, thinking I was only out for an afternoon walk, on a beautiful fall day, waves and tips his hat.

I don't wave back, but I know I will one day be on the other side, the side where he will have to crank the brakes of the train instead of tipping his hat in my direction.

why

2005-09-06T18:49:00.000-05:00

When fate steps in
and takes your gift
The question of why
on the edge of your lips.

To put you through
excitement
joy
wonderment

Replacing it with
agony
sadness
loss

Why?

And how am I better off?
What will I learn from this?

Mother's Little Helper - Anti-Depressants

2005-09-05T13:09:00.000-05:00

Cyber Friend Erin asked me if I was the same Stephanie Elliot that is quoted in Parents magazine this month (I think it's the October issue). I am.

I haven't seen it yet but the article is about anti-depressants and mothers who use them.

I do take Effexor, and it has helped me through some rough spots when the kids were younger and when some close family members and a very close friend were going through some cancer treatments and I feared that every day I would find a lump in my breast. The anxiety I felt at that point in my life, coupled with taking care of three children ages four and under was enough to almost put me over the edge. I would scream over a spill, flip my lid over some crumbs and be frantic all the time, worrying about death, crying over the littlest things.

No more. And while I'm still on Effexor, and while I do joke about Xanax a lot, I am not dependant on drugs. Tom Cruise knows nothing about anything on the subject either. He has not been a mother trying to raise young children; he has not gone through the emotional, hormonal and physical stress of pregnancy, childbirth, delivery. Hell, he hasn't even raised babies--his children came into this life well after they were able to verbalize, use the toilet, dress themselves. So I don't want to hear anything from that guy!

Anyway, I've yet to check out the article; if you get a chance, take a look. It may help some of you other moms on the fence who are looking for a bit of sanity, or just to not feel so alone.

Thanks Erin, for letting me know about the article!

Forgot The Zoo

2005-09-03T16:09:00.000-05:00

My Pal DD recently posted some beautiful pictures from his visit to the lovely San Diego Zoo, I think it was.

When he read that I too, had been to a zoo, he asked if I might share some of my photographic finds from my trip.

So, without further adieu, here is the one picture I feel most compelled to share:

"Is That All Ya Got There Big Guy?"

Is It Wrong?

2005-09-03T15:12:00.000-05:00

How bad is it that you run out of beer at your four-year-old's birthday party at like 10:00?

And that EVERYBODY loved playing with the Fake Poo?

Fake Poo

2005-09-02T09:02:00.000-05:00

The Balloon Fairy visits each of my kids the evening before their birthdays, so they wake up to a room full of balloons. Tukey and I spent an hour in his room this a.m. having a balloon fight. He was in Heaven with how fun it was.

And then...
Hands down, the best birthday gift for a four-year old--

Except for when I stuck the fake tongue in my mouth and pretended it was coming off, then Tukey seriously did gag and rush to the bathroom because he almost had to throw up!

Richard. And Then Something Else

2005-09-01T21:49:00.000-05:00

Rather than two posts, I am combining two completely non-related items of discussion.

Number one: I am mad at him. We are in a fight, but he does not know it.

Number two: I recalled that today is another special anniversary for me. (Check out the post on July 29 for another one)...

Twenty-two years ago TODAY, in the bathroom at The Academy of the Holy Names All Girls Catholic School, Tampa, Florida, (IN NINTH FREAKING GRADE, which was horrible back then to have had to wait so long, but looking back, I had a few good untainted years more than my sisters in the hood.)...I rejoiced in menstruating for the first time. I had finally become a woman! I was going to be worldly, sophisticated, knowledgable of all secrets womanlike.

I was going to get pissy and crampy and moody and bitchy. Not necessarily in that order, but yes, each and every one of those emotions would surface, all within a period (PUN INTENDED!) of one week. For each and every GD month of the rest of my menstruating lifetime.

And today, to commemorate the twenty-second anniversary of the day I first bled into womanhood, what happens?

I bleed. Therefore I am.

Hahahahahahahahahahaah.

Thursday

2005-09-01T19:11:00.000-05:00

It started out like an ordinary Thursday, Ajers whispering into my ear at 7:20 a.m. to please get up so I can send him off to the school bus. Hubby was still home and had made the kids breakfast.

We sent the kids off to the bus, and Tukey and I waved them goodbye.

"Have a nice day! We love you!"

Things were just grand in the old Seven Bridges Estates. I chatted with the five other Bus Moms and scratched the ears of those dogs leashed to their owners. Then, I invited the rest of the moms who I hadn't seen the day before to my "Off-To-School Bagel Party."

A power walk with my good pal R--shout out to my 'dearest dear, silven foxed friend!'--and back home to prepare my little gathering of women.

Six moms came over, some with kids, some lucky enough (?) to have them all in school, and we laughed and joked about "if the dads could see us now," drinking Starbucks, sipping lemon iced tea, applying a neat spread of Honey Almond cream cheese onto our fresh Einstein bagels, swatting at the occasional curious bee. Oh, would they think our lives were so glamorous.

And, for those few, precious minutes, it did seem pretty glamorous. Until that damned yellow bus rolled in hours later.

(Mind you, I did manage to do three-quarters of two loads of laundry, clean the kitchen, make my bed, take a shower, return some phone calls, clean up the family room, so it wasn't as if I had been lounging langourously--and, interestingly enough, Hubby just yelled from the laundry room: "What's the status of the laundry in here!?!?")

The bus comes home. Chaos errupts. And I know that there is more chaos west of me that I could ever imagine, and that I pray to God I never am faced with a natural disaster, and now, as I'm typing this, I am thinking, "Oh God, Stephanie, you are sooo pathetic (and I mean me, not Stephanie Klein, although she's quite pathetic too, but at least she has a book deal!) to be frustrated at the mundane mundaneness of your simplistic and blessed life."

And wow, just two glasses of Chardonnay into this and I have all the worldy knowledge I could possibly ever hope to exceed!

Bus home, kids fly out, soaring like mindless gulls, searching, scavenging for that last fry on the beach, that open clam shell, to grasp and pull at its meat, to feed itself, to satiate.

Yep, they come home hungry.

And ornery.

And grouchy.

And yet, they are still raring to go, to fly out into the streets onto their skateboards, their bikes, their scooters. They deposit their wares: papers that need to be signed, coloring pages they are so proud of, assignment sheets I must read, all over the kitchen counter, they scarf the snack I have dutifully created for them. Then, one is off swimming; the other is seeking neighborhood friends, the other, my Tukey, is asking me to help him open his birthday gift.

The Ninja Turtle stuff.

The Ninja Turtle stuff that has two million and one of those plastic twisty-ties and black anchors and strong tape to keep the toy from falling apart in transit to Target.

God, I loathe the engineer who came up with that invention. I can imagine him in his lab, thinking, "Hmmm. I've got an idea to secure this toy into the box. And it's such an idea that will royally piss off every parent that spends the money on this toy, that will then have to pull and prod and twist and retwist and hurt their fingers, all for the sake of opening one toy, of making their child happy. And at that immediate instant.

I sure wish I kept each and every one of those damned ties since I've had children. I could do something really creative with it.

So, I'm rambling, and it's because this is really good wine, and I think I just told someone the other day, Christa perhaps, that "I never drink during the week. Just not into it." Well, after this afternoon, I'm into it.

And it hasn't been a terrible afternoon, just a little more stressful than the average, un-wine-needed Thursday.

It's time for gymnastics. I tell AJers we have to go. He defies me. "I'm not going!"

I'm not good at discipline, and am all set to just leave ...

(SIDENOTE: Hubby just comes downstairs after getting kids into the bath, and yells, "NOW WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"I'm VENTING!"

"I thought you were a GRANDE." Smartass. Then he says, I would have yelled at him had he been on the computer this close to kids' bedtime. (Now I just hear him tell AJers that "Mom is 'blogging' about her hard day." F-er!)) I can't even tell where these damn parenthesis start and end anymore.

So, we're all set to leave for gymnastics, and someone yells, "Luke is peeing on the tree!"

Great. What will the Desperate Housewives think of this?

And it's not just any tree. It's THE tree, right in front, right in front of our driveway, right in front of the cul-de-sac of homes right across the street from us. Right where practically every freaking neighbor can view my cute little Tukey, on his very last day of his third year of life, urinating on the tree.

OK, there is too much more of my 'saga' to continue, and I hope you all know I'm joking, it's not a saga, just another day in the life of...the Manic Mom, who has a prescription of 30 Xanax waiting for me at the pharmacy as I type (anyone want to buy some.... KIDDING! JOKE! I KNOW THAT IS TOTALLY ILLEGAL --but email me offlist--ha, kidding again!)

I've had two glasses of wine, have eaten my way through a box of Club Cracker Stix, have had bagels with cream cheese, soup, bread, salad with fruit, 1/2 of Tukey's leftover grilled cheese, and a bowl and a half of Tortellini filled with chicken plus fresh parmesan cheese grated on top.

And now I could use a big old fat chocolate bar. Ummm... doesn't that sound good? Oh, I forgot, my 'friend' arrived today to. Do you think that has anything to do with the frame of mind I'm in tonight?

Out.

Conversations With Tuke

2005-09-01T00:05:00.000-05:00

Tukey: "Mom is apple a bad word?"

Me: "No, why would you think it's a bad word?"

Tuke: "What if I do this?" (Holds tongue between his fingers) "And thay athull?" (Removes fingers from tongue) "Then is it a bad word?"

((Ha--Did I get you to try it!??!!? Do you remember holding your tongue and thaying: I work in a ship yard cleaning the ships... how did that one go? Remember any other ones?))
~~~~~~~~~~~
THIS IS HIS 'ROCK STAR' FACE AND POSE:

Tuke: "Is this a bad word?" And he holds up his ring finger.

Me: "No."

Tuke: "What about this?" Holds up middle finger.

Me: "That is not an appropriate thing to do."

Tuke: "I know. It's swearing to God."
~~~~~~~~~~
Tuke to Hub: "Dad, do you think Mom is hot?"
WTF? Where did this one come from?

Hub to Tuke: "Do you mean 'hot' as in temperature, or 'hot' as in good looking?"

Tuke to Hub: "Like good looking."

Hub to Tuke: "Well, you wouldn't be here if I didn't think she was."

Between this and the Smushy Kissing, this is certainly the end of my innocent young not-quite-yet-four-year-old baby!

I am begging him not to show his preschool teacher the hold-the-tongue-trick and say apple when he starts next week, or flip anyone off at an opportune moment. Or refer to any of the moms as being 'hot.' Next he'll start using the term MILF when he sees some hot preschool mom.

Who the hell is teaching my innocent BABY this stuff and can't we just stick to the freaking ABCs and 123s for crying out loud!?

Happy Fourth Birthday Baby Boy!

It's Not A Date!

2005-08-31T15:48:00.000-05:00

So, school has started for the Diva and Ajers and we're kind of getting into a routine; the routine being Diva and I sleep as late as possible, while Ajers gets up at like 6 a.m, puts his clothes on, brushes his teeth, and--ACK!--uses some Axe deodorant (is it really possible for a SECOND GRADER to have such horrible B.O?). After Diva's alarm clock buzzes at 7 a.m. for fifteen full minutes before either she or I hear it, Ajers comes up and nicely wakes us up because HE CAN HEAR IT ALL THE WAY DOWNSTAIRS yet Diva and I are slumbering away in La-La Land. Thank God one of us is an early bird!

Of course, Tukey is still asleep then. He doesn't start preschool till next week so I've promised him some special time, as the third child usually gets left in the dust, and man, that poor kid is covered in dust!

So, yesterday just he and I went to the zoo. On the car ride there, he tells me, "You know, I'm not a baby anymore."

I know, I know. And it's breaking my heart. And also breaking my heart that he'll be FOUR on Friday. But then he reassures me that he will still be my baby sometimes. Good!

We go to the zoo and have a really nice time with each other, and I like to joke with him that 'we're on a date' which makes him really, really mad.

Today, we ran some errands and met friends for lunch but even before we got out of the garage, he informs me:

"Remember, this is not a date. We are not on a date."

"What do you do on a date?" I ask.

"THIS IS NOT A DATE!"

"I know, I know; You've made that very clear. But... what do people do when they ARE on a date?"

"You smushy kiss."

Letter To The Editor

2005-08-29T13:56:00.000-05:00

I just read the Chicago Parent "From The Editor" letter and got so riled up I spit out a rebuttle to the editor immediately.

The column, which you can view here, is called: 'Til Death Do Us Part

The editor said...

"Too many times of late, I have found these words tumbling out of my mouth: 'Just what would you do if I died?'" She's directing this comment to her two sons.

Next, she goes on to say this:
"I sense, and I could be wrong here, but I think these feelings are much more common to mothers of boys than of girls."

WHAT?!?!?

"I may be standing out on a sexist limb here..." (HELL YEAH!) ..."but I think boys are passed a secret note in utero. We know they are different...boys appear helpless..." etc, etc...

She goes on to insinuate that boys do not know how to do laundry, which may be true, but what does the fact that they may be helpless when it comes to household chores have to do with a mother feeling a sense of despair for her boys if she were to die?

I sent her this letter:

Dear Ms. Schultz,

I imagine you received your share of comments regarding September's "From the Editor" and agree that you were (as you admitted), "standing out on a sexist limb." I may have read into what you said, but I interpreted you to mean mothers of boys have more feelings of despair if they were to die and leave their sons motherless.

As a mother of two sons, ages four and seven, and one six-year-old daughter, I have to politely disagree with your statement as to your concern over what your children would do if you were to die. I worry about all three of my children and don't feel their gender changes how they would feel if I were no longer living. I would want all three of them to be "healthy and happy," and self-sufficient, just as you were to wish for your sons.

The only thing that would change if I were to die, is I wouldn't be there anymore, and that is a sobering enough thought regardless of their gender.

I really think you were off-base on your comments, and as an editor of a parenting magazine, I would hope you would have taken a different angle on your article. You implied daughters who may lose their mother would be better off than sons, and I find this disheartening.

And, if you're so worried that they would be helpless without you, might I suggest you take the kids into the laundry room and teach them to separate the whites from the colors.

Proud mother of two sons and a daughter,
Stephanie Elliot

So there, Ms. Editor Lady!

Post Script: Ms. Editor Lady and I have settled our differences and you can read about it in the comments section. She's actually a very nice woman, and I just misinterpreted her sense of humor!

More Sex Than Me?

2005-08-26T00:07:00.000-05:00

Okay, This Guy is cool, even though he doesn't get it all that often. Check out his blog, click on the link under the August 25th post to watch the animated bunny, and you'll be singing that tune all day long, but earmuffs for the kids hanging on your ankles while you're Blog Surfing. And tell him thanks for linking Manic Mom!

Week In Progress

2005-08-25T23:07:00.000-05:00

How many moms out there "binge-eated" on the first day of school? I know of at least one or two others (you know who you are, my sweet, dear, dearest bird!--hee hee!) We have decided there is a "Back-to-school" disease or state of depression. You're so excited to be getting a teeny bit of freedom, yet as soon as I came back to the house after the bus roared them away, I got a lump in my throat and cried. In no time, they will be gone.

Anyway, here's what I ate to fill the void of my missing children yesterday, even though I did have one completely adorable little guy attached to me all day, enjoying Mommy's sometimes undivided attention:
(Okay, I'll admit to you right now that I am trying desperately to remember what yesterday's food intake consisted of, and crap, I can't even remember if I ate breakfast or not!)...

I do know I ate fritos, granola bar, chocolate chips, chocolate chip and chocolate teddy grahams, pizza... starbucks... My brain is fried. Most of my food is too!

So, how did the kids do at school?

Ajers: No brainer with starting second grade. The only major problem with him is telling him he CANNOT go out to wait for the bus at 7:15 when it doesn't even arrive until 7:55! He gets up, dresses, pees (AND PUTS THE SEAT DOWN--I trained 'em early!), brushes his teeth, goes downstairs and even started making his own mini-micowavable pancakes. Last year, he was even letting me sleep until the absolute last minute then gently waking me up so I could wave him off to school. Just wish kids were always this excited about school.

Diva: Another story. She was all excited about first grade, has already ridden the bus, so I didn't think we'd have any problems. But yesterday, day one of first grade, we go out to wait for the bus. She gets very quiet and shy, even though she knows every single one of the eight girls and four boys at the bus stop. Then she confides in me that she is not sure where to line up or where her classroom is or what her teacher looks like. Fortunately, one of the older girls at the stop said she would show Diva where her class was. This older girl also mentioned that Diva's teacher is "A little hard" and that "She pushes you." I'm almost going to dread this already.

She gets off the bus after school and comes running into my arms, crying to me that she missed me. I picked her up and hugged her tightly. Oh, how I missed my little darling for those six hours she was away! How am I going to part from her on a daily basis now?

It got much easier two minutes later when she bolted out of my arms and headed to the neighbors to play, coming home at six p.m. only to bitch to me that "Why did you get my Take Home folder out of my backpack!?!?!?!" Cripes. And today when she woke up, she immediately started bitching at me because her alarm clock wasn't set (she's NEVER used a freaking alarm clock!) and how would she know how to get up if it wasn't set. DUH. She was already awake!

Then she started going downstairs in her jammies, and I was like, "NO! Gotta get dressed up here, and now!" Cranky, bitchy, crabby. My darling Diva. First grade is gonna suck. (Well, the part from the time she wakes up till the time she gets onto the bus!)

And then, there's little Tukey Pie, who doesn't start his three-day afternoon pre-school program until after Labor Day (and consequently--right word?--just after he turns FOUR!)...who cuddled and snuggled and talked baby talk to me all day long, taking full advantage of his alone time with me. And I just loved it when I asked him if he needed a bath and he lifts up his arm, points to his arm pit and exclaims:

"Smell this bad boy."

I did, and it smelled wonderful... all little boy and I could just eat him up, my Tukey Pie!

Email Addresses

2005-08-25T08:35:00.000-05:00

Have any of you noticed how now there are new emails out there with the end of:

g mail?

I guess the internet companies decided to go down the alphabet and decided the next letter in line would not be appropriate.

It would be like saying, "Honey, did you check your F-mail today?"

"No! I didn't check the fucking mail today!"

Just a thought, a pre-caffeinated thought for the day.

School's In Session - Now What?

2005-08-24T09:12:00.000-05:00

From the time our children are born, there is one common fear all parents have. We dread the day our children leave our homes and head for school. And I’m not talking about college here. I’m dreading kindergarten!

Now that my oldest son will head off in that screeching, fume-blowing, pumpkin-colored bus, I’m going tell myself a few things. It’s really okay that the bus doesn’t have seat belts and that a complete stranger is driving my child to school, and there could possibly be bullies on that bus waiting to pounce on my little guy.

I will simply inhale deeply and do some of those breathing techniques I learned in prenatal class that never really worked during labor. When I’m calm enough, I’ll hop into the minivan and follow that evil-child-stealer-school bus. I will see for myself that my son actually made it to school. I will heave a huge sigh of relief and remind myself cheerfully that in just 4 short years, my youngest child will also be heading for kindergarten and I will have 2½ whole uninterrupted hours to myself every day! Always planning in advance, I’m starting to wonder what I will do with all of the free time I will have.

The options are endless.

I can begin to sort through the stuffed boxes of photos that include pictures from three children’s births, baptisms, summer vacations, and 12 different themed birthday parties. I should have listened to my husband when he told me we could fake our third child’s first few birthdays just by showing him his siblings’ photos and telling him it was his party. I should really start this project soon before I can no longer tell one child from the other in the photographs. At least I’ll know my daughter is the one wearing a dress in the pictures.

Next on my “Things-To-Do-With-My-Free-Time-When-The-Children-Are-In-School” list is brush up on current events. I will do this by spending lazy mornings watching television. I will resist the urge to find out the number of the day on Sesame Street. Instead, I will watch The Today Show where I will inevitably wonder what happened to Matt Lauer’s hair and the other half of Al Roker?

Another project I can tackle is that kitchen junk drawer. It’s a wonder what I may find in there. The last time I cleaned it out, I found expired coupons from 1999, 4 undeveloped rolls of film that I still haven’t had developed, 2 sets of keys that I had no idea what they went to, and a book of 29-cent stamps. The next time I think I’m losing my mind, I’ll remember to check that drawer!

And while I’m in this cleaning frenzy, I may as well hit the underwear drawer and get rid of those 12 pairs of nylons I kept just in case I was ever motivated to dress in something nicer than jeans and a t-shirt. I should probably throw out those milk-stained nursing bras that no longer have any elastic. And I guess I should just admit that I’m never going to wear that racy, lacy thong my husband bought me one long-ago Valentine’s Day.

Next, I’ll call up a charity or childcare center and tell them I am finally ready to part with the Exersaucer, crib, highchair and changing table. I’ve gone through all of the stages: denial, grief, and lastly, acceptance. I’ve come to terms that my 2-year-old no longer needs (or fits into) an Exersaucer.

When the children are all in school, I will take a daily shower where I will shampoo and condition my hair. I won’t have to jump out to stop the kids from fighting, only to have them say, “Mommy, why are you naked?”

Each day, I will eat a warm breakfast (Toaster Strudels do not count!), read the paper and do the crossword puzzle. Heck, I’ll have the time – I’ll even grind the beans for my coffee. Wait. I don’t drink coffee.

Next on my list: start drinking coffee.

I look forward to making a phone call without having to threaten or bribe the children before I dial. I’m sure the recipients of my calls will also appreciate me not yelling into the earpiece, “Quiet! Mommy’s on the phone!”

Lastly, when I have some free time to myself, I think I’ll spend quiet moments sitting on the front porch swing. There, I’ll tick off the minutes until that big, gruesome bus rumbles onto the street and deposits my children into my waiting arms.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I wrote this and it was published in The Philadelphia Inquirer, August 2003. If you would like to share it with your blogger readers, please feel free to copy and paste - just let me know if you are doing so!

I actually got a lump in my throat and cried when Ajers and Diva got on the bus this morning. On my way back to the house, I ran into a male neighbor who is sending off his youngest of three to college tomorrow. It tore me up when he said it's heartbreaking and to cherish and enjoy every single moment because it truly does go by so quickly. But now, it's Tukey time! We are off to power walk to... of all places... Krispy Kreme! (And Tukey just said to me: "I'm having the funnest day ever and ever!" I guess he's not sad he's got me all to himself today!)

Hope your children's first day of school is a memorable day and that you are cherishing these beautiful times with them, in and out of school!

Manic Mom Meets Super Mom!

2005-08-23T09:42:00.000-05:00

What do you get when you cross a Swiffer broom with an ordinary mom and a nasty bathroom stain?

You get...

Super Mom!

You know I love reading, I love blogging, I love being a mom, I love writing and I love other writers. Well, now I love Super Mom too! I've been known to stalk a few authors and have had the ultimate pleasure of having an author contact me about my blog. Melanie Lynne Hauser emailed me about a month or so ago and so we started chatting. Turns out she lives about 15 minutes away from me, and so we emailed for a while then decided to 'meet.'

Meeting a potential new friend from the Internet is just as scary probably as meeting a potential new boyfriend from the Internet. You hope you like each other, you hope you're wearing the right thing, you hope you don't fall all over yourself gushing about how glad you found each other online. Right? Right.

Well, Melanie has just had her first book published: Confessions Of Super Mom... and please note, it's not Confessions of A Super Mom because there is only one Super Mom. It's like you wouldn't read a book called Confessions of A Spider Man or Confessions of A Batman. It's simply one Super Hero.

One amazing, powerful, womanly Super Hero who yields a Swiffer as her choice of weapon.

And I got to meet her creator!

Of course, our meeting place had to be somewhere public, as you never know what kind of quirky people are out there (Me, not her!).

Of course, where do you think Manic Mom meets Super Mom? Hmmm... I see a sequel there where the two are in cahoots together--Super Mom trying to get Manic Mom off the depressants and nonfatsugarfreevanillalattes... which, brings me, of course, to the meeting place:

Starbucks.

Where else do you think Melanie and I would meet?

And of course, Manic Mom is late for this meeting, because of a few reasons: I couldn't find my Xanax, and I couldn't figure out what to wear for this meeting of the minds!

I get there late, and walk into Starbucks. Maybe I planned it that way. Maybe I subconsciously wanted to be late so I wouldn't have to sit there and wonder if I was getting stood up?

I was late. It was rude of me. But I'm not Super Mom. I'm Manic Mom, and lateness is one of my traits. Good or bad, that's who I is.

I scan the room and see, in the corner, a very cute woman, an author of a real live book (!) waiting for me. Waiting for me and wearing...

the SAME, EXACT GAP SHIRT I WAS WEARING! (Of course, we women, having the utmost sense of fashion, had worn colors to complement our skin tones. Melanie, being blond, had on a robin egg color. Me, being Manic, wore black. Just kidding, mine was a pomegrante color. Heh, I don't know what a pomegrante color is either... no, mine was more of a, what's that fruit...Oh yeah... Papaya. That's the color I was wearing. OK, I think it was orange.

So, we met, we talked about writing, and coffee, and hairstyles and children. We had SO many similarities besides our cute, albeit last year's style, Gap shirts!
We were both women!
We both write! (Although she's got a book out that is bound to be a best seller and someday a Disney movie which I hope to be cast in, just as an extra, please Mel!)
We are both moms!
We have both had martinis from Hugo's in Naperville and nursed hangovers from said martinis!

The similarities were endless. Destiny, I say, pure Destiny!

We found out we had both lived in the very exact same town of Langhorne, Pennsylvania (Home of Sesame Place, if you're looking for a fun family summer destination!) at points in our lives and had even BIRTHED some of our children in the very same hospital. How weird it is to think Super Mom's creator and I could have labored in the EXACT same bed? That quite possibly, the L&D nurse (named Barney of all names) who was there for both my birthing experiences in that hospital, had first touched Melanie's children, had given them their APGAR test, and then, years later, quite possibly had touched my children on the day they were born as well!!?!?

It was Destiny in the finest sense!

And now, Manic Mom and the Creator of Super Mom shall become BFF and I will be there to cheer her on at her book signing at Anderson's in Naperville, where we may even partake in dual martinis afterward to celebrate our kinship!

If you're going to be around on Thursday, and want to join in on this crazed womanhood bonding, I'm sure that after the signing, the bartender can shake up a few extra martinis for you as well!

Way to go, Super Mom! A Hero for All Of Us Super Women!

Now, Get on out there and Fight Grime!

When Is Lent?

2005-08-23T01:13:00.000-05:00

Because I've got to give up this Blog posting, Blog surfing, Blog commenting, Blog laughing, Blog fixing shit. Somebody put me to bed please. Or just take me to Wonderland.

My Cyber BFF!

2005-08-23T00:13:00.000-05:00

Christa ROCKS! Thanks for staying up all night with me! XO

And in other news, Manic Mom may be moving to a new URL soon. Stay tuned...

Is This Bad?

2005-08-22T16:18:00.000-05:00

Is it wrong for your almost eight-year-old to be yelling:

"Fudge!"

"What the fudge!?!?"

I thought I heard this from him as he is skateboarding outside and called him to the door.

I asked, "Ajers, what did you just say?"

Ajers: "Fudge."

Me: "Okay, I don't want to hear that anymore."

Think he'll start saying fuck now that he's not allowed to say fudge?

Shit.

The Significance Of Song

2005-08-22T08:57:00.000-05:00

I've been wanting to blog about the song Your Body Is A Wonderland by John Mayer because the words are just so beautiful, but then one of my friends mentioned it was written about Jennifer Love Hewitt (actress) and that bummed me out because I didn't want to have an image of the woman in the song. The words are just awesome:

We got the afternoon,
You got this room for two.
One thing we got left to do,
discover me, discovering you.
One mile to every inch of
Your skin like porcelain
One pair of Candy Lips
and your bubblegum tongue.

And if you want love,
we'll make it.
Swim in a deep sea of blankets,
take all your big plans and break 'em.
this is bound to be a while.

Your body is a wonderland.

And the best part of the song:

...the shape you take while
crawling toward the pillow case
You tell me where to go, though I might
leave to find it
I'll never let your head hit the bed without
my hand behind it.

Wow.

And now I can't believe it's about me, but it's about Jennifer Love Hewitt. How lucky is she that some man wrote this beautiful song for her!

Anyway, yesterday we were watching a huge spider make its web on the plants around our deck and we were talking about how we didn't like spiders. Someone mentioned how they hated when they were walking and accidentally went through a web. So, what did I do today that was amusing?

I was on my a.m. walk and listening to my iPod iShuffle when the song Spider Web from No Doubt came on. At the end of the song, I actually walked through a damn web.

This got me thinking about other times a song has hit right on and I remembered seeing Peter Gabriel senior year in high school at Poplar Creek outdoor amphitheatere. Well, when he started playing Red Rain, the skies opened up and it actually started raining. It wasn't red though, but it was absolutely so cool to be surrounded by all these people there for the same reason and to have it rain during that song.

Other songs that evoke feelings for me:

In Your Eyes, which is unofficially "our" song. Any time it comes on the radio, we'll call each other and play it for one another, not saying anything, just having the other person listen to it. The other day, I called Hub on his cell and he answered the phone and In Your Eyes was playing in the background. I'm guessing he was just about to call me. Yeah right!

I'm going to cut this post short and write more later. It is an absolutely gorgeous day here in the midwest and we are zoo-bound today. Wonder what songs will be playing on the radio. Didn't U2 have an album called Zooropa? Hee. Hee.

This Post's For Tommy

2005-08-21T10:05:00.000-05:00

Especially for my pal Tommy: Pre- and Post-Date Night yesterday, honey! Winka winka!

Ugh.

2005-08-19T14:19:00.000-05:00

New Capri Jeans, a bearable size, not on sale:
$48

Bust-worthy top:
$12

Target shoes to match bust-worthy top, (Of course they're Target!):
$14.99

Husband staying with kids instead of babysitter:
$0

First round of drinks, which included my caramel appletini with cherry, two Coronas, and a Canadian Club and Diet:
$25 with tip

Three appetizers, two more rounds of drinks, which included my Blue Moon beer with extra oranges:
$49

Tip:
$10

Next round of drinks at Hugo's (yep, Melanie--that Hugo's, and those Key Lime Martinis):
$27

Next round of drinks at Hugo's which we thought we found "sponsors" for but ended up having to pay ourselves:
$42

Ditching so-called sponsors because they didn't pay for our drinks: PRICELESS...

But there's more...

Another round of appletinis at Peanuts bar where we had to listen to some guy with who had his own six-pack with him tell us about his dead fiance, and then his dead wife (couldn't keep his story straight):
An hour of our time wasted, and another $30.

Going back to the original bar where we ditched the sponsors, telling them we left because our other friend, "Heidi" got sick, and then drinking more:
$$ Who the hell knows at this point?

Staying for last call on a Thursday night (now Friday a.m.) and leaving the bar, and S finding money on the curb:
$14

Listening to friend S have conversation with drunk Tara Reid look-a-like who is wearing a 'top' that looks like two fuschia scarves going from her shoulders and tied down at her waist, completely open and breast-baring, sporting a freshly bleeding knee says: "I need a bandaid."

S: "Honey, I think you could use a bra too."

Then almost getting into a catfight with the drunk, bleeding Tara Reid look-a-like, and smuggily knowing we could kick her ass:
Priceless.

Not accepting the ride from the first taxi driver cuz he was smoking: $0

Burritos, chips, and a huge Diet Coke purchased after we made our taxi driver search for something open at 1:30 a.m. on a Friday:
$18

Having cell ring at 1:30 a.m. and hearing concerned husband on the other end wondering where I am:
Sweet.

Getting home safely, and without throwing up in the taxi:
$35 (I know, I know, but I was drunk and home alive, and not puking, and the taxi guy deserved a good tip--hell, $35 is waaaay cheaper than a DUI, dontcha think?)

Having a fabulous time with girlfriends who have known each other for over half their lives on a Thursday night:
Absolutely, positively priceless!

I can't remember the last time I've been this hungover on a Friday.

Let's All Play Another Game.

2005-08-17T22:05:00.000-05:00

Answer these in my comments section. Would love to know more about you. Skip my answers if you're sick of learning more about me.

1. When you look at yourself in the mirror, what's the first thing you look at?
White teeth, tiny lines around the eyes, boogers, blackheads. (See, already you're thinking you should have skipped my answers!)

2. How much cash do you have on you right now?
On me, on me... none. In my wallet, about $45 or so, which will be spent on a couple-two three appletinis tomorrow night with the gal pals.

3. What's a word that rhymes with "TEST"?
Tickles. Ha.

4. Favourite plant?
Marijuana. Ha again. Boy, this is fun!

5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
Do I have to get the phone out to check?

6. What is your main ring tone on your phone?
Some Samba dance thingy.

7. What shirt are you wearing?
Hot pink stretch Gap T.

8. Do you "label" yourself?
Writer Mom.

9. Name brand of your shoes currently wearing?
None right now, but if you read yesterday's post, it would be either Target Circo's or Payless whatevers.

10. Do you prefer a bright or dark room?
To sleep in, dark, pitch black. We called our old bedroom The Al Quada Cave or The Four Seasons, depending on if the bed was made or not. To work or spend time awake, I prefer a bright room.

11. What did you have for breakfast?
Really, must you ask this? Grandeicednonfatsugarfreevanillalatte1/2whip.
Wanna know what lunch was?

13. What were you doing at midnight last night?
I actually made it to bed by then last night, had a terrific night's sleep. I know this because I woke at 6:00 a.m. with a terrible pressure in my bladder because I had not gotten up to pee once.

(What happened to number 12?)
Okay, there was no number 12 when I got this questionnaire, so I'll make one up: What are you doing with your left hand right now?

14. What did your last text message you received on your cell phone say?
"Thanks for the anniversary call." It was from my brother, dated in June. I just realized I had text messaging on my phone last week!

15. Do you ever click on "Pop Ups" or Banners?
Depends on if it's a pop up or banner of a nude guy.

16. What's an expression that you say a lot?
Rock on dude! Or "Who's Your Daddy?" when I'm trying to get that information from my kids.

17. Who told you they loved you last?
Hubby, just five minutes ago when he called me from his girlfriend's house.

18. Last furry thing you touched?
Baxter.

19. How many hours a week do you work?
Work to be paid, or work not to be paid. How many hours are in a week? Subtract about 35-50 for sleep and that's how much I work.

20. How many rolls of film do you need to get developed?
None, and I was in Target just today thinking how nice it is to never have to buy film again!

21. Favourite age you have been so far?
Two was a great year. There was somebody there to always kiss me goodnight, give me food and wipe my butt.

22. Your worst enemy?
A computer virus.

23. What is your current desk top picture?
A screensaver that says I L O V E Y O U ! ! ! that I put on there for Hubby the other day.

24. What was the last thing you said to someone?
"I'll be up when you get home" is what I said to Hubby when he just called me from his girlfriend's house.

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to go back in time and fix all your mistakes which would you choose?
I'd take the million. I'm thankful that so far I've not done too many regrettable things in my life. Hey, now that's a pretty good feeling.

Feel free to add to your blog, tell 'em Manic Mom sent ya! Thanks for playing!

A List

2005-08-16T12:25:00.000-05:00

What You Don't Know About Me.

The most I've ever weighed was 240.

I once was catheterized when I was a little girl. The nurse told me to open my legs, put my heels together and ribbit like a frog.

That same night, I saw Wizard of Oz for the first time, and scared to death, I turned it off during the flying monkey part, thinking it was over.

I stole a case of Pop/Soda whatever... Okay, it was Diet Coke, from Jewel after a night of drinking. We paid for a bunch of other stuff though. Maybe it was a 12-pack, not a case.

We used to buy Rhinelander beer in college because we got a rebate from the bottles, even though the beer sucked.

I once gave a boy a pair of my undies on the side of a house. A couple years later, I met up again with that boy in college at a bar. He approached me and said, "I think I have something that belongs to you."

I went home with him that night.

My roommate and I were called the smoke dick chicks in college, but not because that was something we were doing, but because it was a catch-phrase we used in leui of "Screw you" or something worse, but thinking back, how can it get any worse than "Smoke dick?"

I dropped out of my first college math class a week into it.

My college roommate brought home a totally hot guy one night, but she ended up in the bathroom puking, so I "took over" for her. (She, by the way, is still my friend, and already knows this, but I didn't tell her for years.)

My favorite ice cream flavor it Peppermint chip but it has to be the pink colored ice cream with the red, blue and green mint candies in it.

I've never been pregnant at a time I didn't want to be.

I won a writing monetary scholarship in high school worth $125. There was one other person going for it, and I think the teachers gave it to me because they felt sorry for me. The other girl was much more qualified.

I dressed up as a used tampon one Halloween for a party. It was hilarious. Unfortuntaely, I was too hung over from the weekend before I enjoy myself.

I (shhh, this is a big one) kissed a girl once. Romantically.

Our husbands (shhh, again) were watching.

The first gift I ever received from Hubby was the ugliest hooded sweatshirt with San Francisco emblazoned in cursive on the front. It was pink and blue with satin trim and two sizes too small. He kept asking me when I was going to wear it. I put it on one day for class when I was leaving his apartment, ran over to the student center and changed out of it. I wish to God I had saved that sweatshirt, just so I could remind him what an ugly and stupid gift it was.

I refuse to get rid of the shirt I was wearing the night I met Hubby. I will neither get rid of the shirt he was wearing. His was from The Gap. Mine was from The Limited.

At my driver's test when I was 16, the instructor told me to turn right and I went left, running over a small curb. I still passed.

I could live off of french fries and pizza if those were the only two foods left on earth. Oh, and Diet Coke.

I rarely crave chocolate, but you wouldn't believe it if you read the archives.

I could still pro-create if I choose to.

I'm not going to choose to.

When Diva came out of my vagina, I thought she was a boy. I didn't care because I was just so glad I was able to do it (Ajers was a C-section baby).

Instead of purchasing iTunes with my credit card, I go to Target, purchase a pre-paid card there and use it when I get home, so Hubby does not know I'm spending frivilously on the internet.

I'm afraid of eBay.

I have about 10 notebooks of journal entries from college. I used to think I would die if anyone read them. Now I don't think they're that bad.

I love Sesame Street and Grover is my favorite. I'm sad my children are no longer interested in it.

I would rather read, write or buy books than see a movie or shop for clothes.

I only buy shoes from Target or Payless, and not because I'm cheap... Okay, maybe because I am cheap, but shoes are shoes (please don't ream me for this!)

I've only worked for men.

I've only had three real jobs.

All three bosses names began with the letter J. Two of them were named Jim.

I never slept with my bosses.

I've slept with co-workers, but not in real jobs, and some of them had names beginning with the letter J too. Okay, maybe just one.

My mother told us our vaginas were called pelvis when we were growing up. A penis was called a penis.

We played doctor all the time when I was a kid. I think every kid does, or maybe I was just weird?

I read and loved and coveted every single Judy Blume book when I was young.

I once hid a pack of my mom's cigarettes in my bedroom drawer because I wanted her to quit smoking. She, in turn, thought I had started smoking. This was like in third grade.

I don't really remember the first time I got really drunk.

I have thrown up from overdrinking countless times. There are pictures of my throwing up. Many of them.

I threw up in my husband's car on our way home from an elaborate party. His employee and his wife were in the back seat. I got some vomit on the woman. Hubby is frightened every time I get into his car if I've been drinking now.

We take cabs whenever we go out now.

I've thrown up in a cab.

I've thrown up and had to swallow it back down as the occasion/location didn't permit me to throw up.

I first tried marijuana on a cruise ship.

I've never done cocaine, X, acid. I always wanted to try two of those three but probably won't now because I am a mother.

My parents thought I was doing drugs in college because I got very skinny. I wish I remembered how I did it.

My favorite movie when I was growing up was GREASE. I still have my GREASE trading cards that are probably worth something.

I would try to sell them on eBay if I wasn't afraid.

I hate gin.

I don't like beer anymore either.

I still have a teddy bear that was given to me when I was born. I remember thinking it was the hugest toy in the world. It's not.

I still have my Good Luck Care Bear I got for Christmas when I was a sophomore in high school.

I don't let Diva play with either of these toys.

I used to try on my mom's lingerie. I think my brothers did too. They're not gay.
Or cross-dressers.

I went to a Catholic grade school and there were 23 students in my eighth grade graduating class. I know at least two of them have died - one a car accident, one a suicide. I wonder if anything we did to the one who committed suicide caused him to do it? I wrote a poem about him once. I know one of them walked down the aisle at her high school graduation pregnant, and I think she has been married twice and has five children. I always wonder if she got fat. I am still friends with my best friend from back then (Hi Ann!).

The best summer of my life was when I was twenty. So far.