Happy Mothers Day

Way to go Linda! I love you and I still can't believe you had me without any sort of drugs. Oh yeah, and I'm super sorry that I caused you to get that hernia. I love you and appreciate all that you've done for me and my own kids. Happy Mothers Day.

 

I am having a fantastic Mothers Day! Really, it's just been a great week all together. My own darling daughter began eating tortillas and crackers (at the ripe old age of four). My oldest daughter performed in a her ballet recital and made me her most heartfelt mothers day card to date. I colored my hair darker (and shinier) and had Jackie cut my hair, so my layers are really outstanding right now.  Plus, Dave and I had one of our thrice yearly heart to hearts where I tell him everything he needs to change about his behaviour to make my life easier. I like those talks because he's AWESOME for a good solid week after. He really makes an effort to be a grown up husband. It's been great.

Apparently the timing of our chat could not have been better. I was handsomely rewarded with one of the best gifts I've ever received during our 11 year marriage. An iPad mini!!! As some of you may already know, I do not own a smart phone. I'm still rockin' the flip phone and for the most part I'm fine with it. Sure, it's a little embarrassing to have the same phone that most elementary school kids own, but it gets the job done for a tenth of the price of a smart phone. I just have that T-mobile pay as you go plan and my phone service costs about $150 a year. I get the thrill of a good deal just even typing that last sentence.

But I digress, I now have an Apple gadget and I feel sort of bad ass if I'm being honest. This thing just kicks ass. I can read books on it, play Candy Crush on it and it somehow it magically gathered all my iTunes music onto it. Oh yeah, I can even text on it. This is revolutionary for a gal like me. You need to recall that texting on your old flip phone sucked royally. If I want to type the letter "c", I gotta tap that #2 three times. Remember that? It's brutal. The upside is that I have no choice but to pull over if I'm sending a text. I'm a hell of a multi-tasker, but even I can't memorize how many times I need to press the #8 to access a letter "V". I'm not entirely certain how it all works on the iPad, but I'm willing to learn because I love this gadget like the third child I'm not having.

Yep, Dave knocked it out of the park with this one. He stepped out for a few hours Saturday morning to "check a job". He legitimately did have to go check a job site, but then he went shopping my gift. This is usually Dave's standard protocol. He goes to a store and buys me a present and a card. He chooses great cards and then he goes out to his truck and writes, "Yeah, that sounds like something I would say" right after all the sweet, Hallmark sentiments and he signs it, "Love, Davey".  He then drives directly home, walks in the door (washes his hands because he's a germaphobe) and gives me my gift in the shopping bag from the store. The receipt is always still in the bag and then he'll say, "There's the receipt if you want to return it and get something better".  He doesn't give a shit if it's ten days before the holiday or the day of. He doesn't dink around with wrapping paper and hiding spots.

This year he accidentally gave me a triple threat gift. Our anniversary is a week or two away from Mothers Day and the price of this gift means that it will cover him for both occasions. He then accidentally got me a card that says, "Happy Birthday" and the bottom instead of "Happy Mothers Day" (this is classic Dave).  He was very pleased when I brought this to his attention. He will now joke for the next 5 months about how he's already taken care of my birthday gift and card (albeit VERY early).

As they say in the South, "Bless his heart!".

Wheat Joy!!!

With 3, count em, THREE exclamation points!!!

This post needs to be read with extreme enthusiasm. Last week, my four year old daughter ate wheat! She ate a few pieces of whole wheat pasta to be exact. If she passed this food trial I knew that her life was going to change in such a positive way. If she ended up throwing up for hours, we would be looking at a pretty major set back. This is the odd world of Food Protein Induced Entercolitis Syndrome (FPIES for short). A world that we have been living  in since we first learned that acronym when Lyla was 7 months old.

Six weeks ago I decided to take my daughters digestive problem into my own hands. I scheduled an appointment with a Chiropractor. Little one wasn't getting adjusted or anything like what you'd expect from the word Chiropractor. I took her to a man who uses a treatment called Nambudripad's Allergy Elimination Technique (NAET for short, we like acronyms around these parts).

This treatment is weird and it involves concepts like "balancing energies". It sounds hokey to a lot of people, but it's totally non-invasive and it's the only thing available to try. I'll admit that before we even met Dr. Goulding, I was already referring to him as the "witch doctor". I had done a lot of internet research about this strange treatment and the two main points that I took with me were these. Leave your logic at the door, and it works for a lot people. With that in mind, I went for it and I'm glad I did. It was strange as hell, and my husband thinks I am crazy (nothing new there), but my daughter is sitting across from me right now, eating a freaking cracker!!!  Believe it or not, this has been my wildest dream for the last three and a half years. It has been realized and now I want to ride a unicorn over a rainbow with Adam Levine. Fingers crossed, that will happen too!

She isn't eating something really tasty like a goldfish cracker or Ritz (way too many ingredients for me to panic about). She is indulging in a box of Carr's Table Water Crackers. If you don't know what these are or what they taste like, I'll explain. Go to your grandma's house and look for a dusty black box in the back of her pantry. Inside you'll find a sleeve of bland, tasteless, white crackers. You'll taste one and you'll throw the rest away because you're certain they're too stale to eat. They've gone bad is what you'll think. The average 5 year old would spit it out during a taste test. They aren't special. Your grandma doesn't even like them. She eats one every now and again to remind herself of the horrible, lean times of her childhood, better known as the Great Depression.

So Little one is eating the tasteless crackers and she is overwhelmed with excitement. She is giddy as can be with this new addition to her diet. She is fighting the urge to put this entire sleeve of white crackers into her tiny belly. "These are just too Yummy!" she says with absolute sincerity. This little cracker represents the beginning of what I hope will be a more normal diet. We haven't tried her other food enemies yet, corn and rice. Last time I checked,  milk and eggs give her hives. Who knows if she can have oats? Her favorite treat is a Hall's cough drop (don't judge, corn syrup free and milk free sweets are impossible to find). It's not a slice of pizza or anything, but she  can eat a bland cracker and I'm thrilled beyond belief. It's days like this that I know for certain that it's the little things in life that you have to grab onto and enjoy. This is, without a doubt,  my best little moment of the year.

A New Kind of Drug Dealer

Please don't confuse this post with a political statement. It's merely an idea I've been tossing around in my head.

I wish that I knew a local drug dealer that rose above the crowd and started dealing nothing but antibiotics.  I would hope that this business would be lucrative enough that said drug dealer would be able to do this exclusively, there by letting me avoid the meth heads and crack whores when doing our drug deals. I would do a good deal of business that sort of person. If you're the person in your family that is in charge of the schedules and the finances, you probably understand exactly where I'm coming from here. When someone in my house gets strep or pink eye, I just want access to the meds, without jumping through all the formal medical hoops.

We have health insurance now, we haven't always, but we do now. We pay a hefty price for it too. I'm grateful that it's there, but most of the time I consider it to be "oh shit" insurance. By that I mean that this insurance sucks for the day to day stuff, but I'd be really glad I had it if someone in my family needed surgery or something majorly expensive. If the diagnosis makes me say "oh shit", we're covered. But this insurance company will haggle you to death on everything else. Example, "Are you sure you weren't crazy before we started your coverage?" "We'll need proof that your kids case of pink eye happened after your coverage started. For all we know she's had pink eye for the last six months and you're only deciding to treat it now." Pathetic really.

Not to mention that they take a good six months to decide if they're paying your doctors a cent. The management at that company really needs to eliminate Facebook access from the office. I know every claim processor is a whiz at Words with Friends and they must all be near the end of the Candy Crush Saga. They sure as hell aren't working away at paying claims. I'm embarrassed to go to a doctor because of this. I'm a prompt bill payer and it infuriates me that I look like someone that gets regular collection calls.

I remember when I first became a parent and I needed the doctors opinions and advice for every little cough or sneeze. Those days are long gone. I know pink eye when I see it. I don't want to wait for a doctor appointment, pay the office $125, and waste and hour and half of my time for the doctor to tell me what I already know....we need prescription eye drops. Let's cut to the chase already. When a kid wakes up with red, goopy eyes I want to page my dealer (I'm so 1996) and meet up in a parking lot for the exchange. It's simple and effective.

I'm not saying I'm qualified to be a doctor (though I totally think I'm qualified to be a doctor), but I know strep when I see it. I know an ear infection when my kid is burning up and crying in horrible pain,  and I don't want to make an appointment at the Pediatric care. My mind calms down and sings one song over and over again. It's the famous words of my favorite Youtube anthem, "Ain't nobody got time for that!"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=Nh7UgAprdpM

What's the Moral of Beauty and the Beast?

Lyla's idea of a great afternoon always involves princess dolls and a doll house. She insists that I play with her and she ALWAYS has to be Belle from Beauty and the Beast and she makes me be Ariel from The Little Mermaid. I'm fine with my assigned character. I like Ariel and her prince, Eric. I guess Lyla likes Eric too. The first thing that her Belle dolls says during our play session is this, "Hi Ariel, I'm Belle and I'm getting ready to go on a date with Eric". She says this right to Ariels face! I'm forced to respond by saying, "I'm sorry Belle, but that's just not going to happen. Eric is my man!"  She starts the drama because she loves to watch Ariel cry her eyes out in the dollhouse bathroom and also because, let's be honest here, who really wants to date the Beast? Not my daughter, I hope.

 This scenario always makes me try to figure out the Disney moral of the Beauty and the Beast story. Whatever it is, I want nothing to do with it. I just flat out told my girls that I would be VERY disappointed if they ended up like Belle. Yes I know Belle is the princess who reads books, but come on, it hasn't helped her much. I would go ballistic if either one of my girls began dating an over sized dog, with obvious rage issues. Especially if said dog had held them prisoner in his castle.

Forget all the talking dishes and singing candlesticks. That whole story is a glorified, textbook case of Stockholm syndrome. I don't care how much you like the library inside the castle. If that rabid dog lets you outside for a snowball fight, you bug outta there as quick as you can. You don't stick around to find out if a little unnecessary kindness will soften  his A-hole, outer shell. He might seem nicer for a while, but what if in a few years you accidentally delete his show from the DVR, or forget to pick-up his dry cleaning. And God forbid you accidentally rent a shitty romantic comedy from Redbox. He's gonna go ballistic on you. Before you know it you'll be covering your bruises with concealer and spray tan. You'll tell your friends that you "fell down the palace stairs" or the "talking ottoman tripped you". I see your future with the beast Belle, and it ain't pretty girl!  It certainly isn't happily ever after, that's for sure.

Run Belle! You don't have to marry that handsome Gaston either. You can always get a restraining order against him if he won't leave you alone. You don't have to marry either of those guys because they aren't right for you. Move to a different village if you have to, just don't settle down with a rage-a-holic canine. You can do so much better girl. In the meantime, get some cats and some yoga pants. Buy a box of Zinfandel and fill your freezer with Lean Cuisines. Start watching Lost and Dexter from the beginning. That will fill those lonely Friday nights. Someone worth your while will come along eventually. Don't sell yourself short.

Writing Your Own Future

After writing about old journals, my next thought involved future journals. What do I want to happen next in my life? I like to write so I'm forced to look at this from that angle. Where should the story go from here? My life story that is. I'm a married 34 year old with a couple of kids. Is all the wild and crazy adventure over? Am I too old for a few more "out of the box" decisions?  An adventure maybe? Well of course I say YES to excitement and adventure...Dave, not so much. He's more practical, sometimes overly practical. Yin and yang, right?

Here is my proposed plan. I want to sell the palace. I want to simplify. By that I mean, buy a much smaller, much less expensive home and free up some "living money". Dave basically agrees with me up to this point. He would love to take a few great vacations every year. There's nothing better than getting up every morning and mentally doing the count down to your next vacation. Two or three trips a year would be so much fun to look forward to. Lots of adventure, lots of great journal worthy memories made, especially for the kids.

All that sounds amazing, but something inside me wants to take it a huge step further. I want to move for a year of two. I want to sell the house and most of the stuff in it, get a storage unit and roll out. I want to move our family to Hawaii for a while. Rent an apartment, get mediocre part time jobs there and just live in paradise for a bit.

 It's expensive to live there though. Rent isn't out of control (I've spent lots of time on the internet figuring it out), but everything else like gas and groceries are very expensive. We wouldn't get ahead financially, but we could break even, so why not? I think I need to move out of Utah for a bit. Not forever, just long enough to figure out what I appreciate about Utah.  So far I think the best thing about Utah is my proximity to my family and the cheaper living expenses.  I already know that I love living near family, but temporarily it would be fun to try something new. I think it would be great for my kids especially. What an amazing chapter that would make!

It would be a lot of work to get to the point where it would really happen. There are a lot of road blocks and question marks standing in the way, but I still long to do it. Who knows if I'll ever convince Dave. I want to do all this stuff while we're young, versus waiting until retirement and hoping it all works out then.  Lately especially, I've been reminded that you never know how much time you've got. Maybe your investment portfolio would be massive by the time you're 65 (I dount it) and you'd have the means to move to an island, but what good will all that cash be if you aren't healthy enough (or alive) to do it? What if we're too tired then? To set in our ways? I want to share an adventure with my girls, while they're young and excited about spending time with their parents.

It's good to dream. Maybe I'll win this battle, probably not, but isn't this a good one? Who wouldn't want to do this? I'll just keep watching Hawaii Life and House Hunters International until I convince Dave that we just have to take a risk and do it.

Journals

Did you ever write in a journal? I'm not referring to your first "diary" that had a lock on it, that contained your deepest darkest, third grade dramas. I mean a journal that you wrote in when life was just starting to get interesting. High school, college, those years.

I had a huge notebook that served as my journal for the high school years and my friend Sara upgraded me to a real journal when I graduated from high school. Obviously the book like journal is holding up much better than the spiral bound notebook and I'm so glad Sara thought to give me a really nice book for my post graduation journaling. Those entries are much more entertaining to read than the high school stuff.

So that leads me to my next question. If you did keep a journal, have you ever taken time to go back and read the stuff you wrote? I do it all the time. The high school stuff is embarrassing to re-read. My immaturity blatantly jumps right off the pages. I was pitifully stupid and practically soaked, head to toe, with drama. Most of those pages are painful to read. I want to hop in a Delorian equipped with a flex capacitor and go back to 1995 and smack myself. Honestly it just scares the crap out of me because I am currently raising two girls and quietly dreading the teenage years. I beg my daughters, please be smater than me!!!!

The "college" journal (Beauty school totally counts as college) is where the good stuff is. A lot of it was written in a drunken stupor at two in the morning, but it's pure comedy to read it back as a somewhat stable adult. Yes, it's also embarrassing to re-read, but if you sift through the stupidity, you can see little hints of a smart adult starting to unfold. I had a clear idea of what I wanted my immediate future to look like and in so many ways, it all turned out better than I'd hoped.

The hardest parts to read are the on again, off again boyfriend dramas. I wasted so much time in a dead end relationship and the worst part about it was that I knew how horrible the relationship was while I floundered in and out of it. I had very little hope that I'd ever meet someone that would be the right fit for me. I was certain that I would absolutely have to settle, from day one, if I ever wanted to get married. I believed that I couldn't truly just be myself and find real love that was fit for me. I aspired to it, but for whatever reason I didn't believe I'd ever find it.

That didn't stop me from going out with a wild spectrum of guys. Let me add that all these dudes are the absolute highlight of that journal. I met some of Ogden's most charismatic bar flies. Guys with lots of swag and game. Guys that would have been perfect for me if they'd just avoided a few bad decisions prior to our meeting. But that's life right. That's what everyone means when they say that the "timing" just wasn't right. It's so true. Timing plays such huge role in the world of love and relationships. You have to meet when the timing is right or it just won't have a chance to unfold properly.

I ran out of pages in my college journal at the exact right time. The book ends just after I met my future husband, Dave. It's a happy ending I'd say (after 10+ years of marriage I sometimes question that statement). I found a great guy and learned the major lesson that would finish that chapter in my life. I figured out that you don't have to settle. When you meet "the one", you won't have to work at making it work. You'll fall in love and the first few years should basically be a love tranced, breeze (the work phase of the relationship will come later). You won't have to play all the dumb games. If Dave wanted to talk to me, he called me. If he wanted to see me, he'd tell me. He wanted to be with me all the time and I wanted to be with him all the time. What a simple, yet refreshing concept. We wanted each other at the same time!  This is the magic glue that is so tough to find in the "dating" world. The timing was right. Are we perfect? Not even a little bit, but ultimately we both must want to be together, because we are.

 If a relationship is hard in the beginning, I'm afraid you'll have very little hope of it ever getting easier. Grown up life and kids will complicate your relationship enough. You have to have some sort of foundation that is solid. Life will get tough. Marriage will make you long to punch your spouse in the face from time to time. But going back and reading that old journal helps me remember what life was really like before I met an uncomplicated, great guy. That's my foundation.

Give your kid journal. Let them teach themselves a lesson.

Happy Questions

The word "happy" is a big one. We all want this magical thing called happiness, but have you ever stopped to ask yourself what exactly that is? I think about the meaning of that word all the time. So far as I can tell, it's all relative. The definition of that big word is very personal. Your definition will be determined by where you're at in your life and your circumstances.

If you've lived an easy life, your answer will be vastly different than that of a person living with heavier burdens. I often hear stories of Americans visiting third world countries and seeing first hand the horrible living conditions of so many people in the world. The first assumption it that a person living in extreme poverty would be unhappy. But often it turns out that these people are the happiest. I don't know if the simplicity of their lives attributes to that or if their definition of contentment is skewed by their understanding of true hardship.

 Honestly, I've never lived true hardship. Electricity, plumbing and my ease of access to clean water has eliminated almost all hardship from my life. When all of our basic needs are met, we start creating problems for ourselves. We have plenty of time freed up every day to create drama where none exists. Survival has been removed from my equation and now I'm left to stress about my broken iPod and the difficulty of passing level 97 on Candy Crush Saga. My kids are also victims of this. Lyla can pitch a serious fit about wearing pants when she had her heart set on a dress or her Youtube video that just isn't loading fast enough. Tiny "problems" and minuscule dramas are far to easy to create in our heads when all our true needs are met and our lives are filled with excess. This is why it's so easy for me to feel like I have so many problems and a person living in a shack, walking miles for clean water can be happy. It's absurd, but true.

That being said, ask yourself these questions and get to know yourself a little better today.

1. Are you happy?

2. What is happiness?

3. What do you believe you need to be happy?

4. What did you once believe would bring you happiness that you have since learned doesn't?

5. Do you have any problems that are insurmountable?

6. Are you happy now that you've really thought about it?

Book Drought

The Great book drought has begun. I'm desperate and searching. I wish E-harmony had a site that lined up great women with amazing books. Sometimes I wish that I'd never read a really amazing book before, that way all the crap books they pitch to me on Amazon might actually hold my attention. I'm not super picky, but I hate reading super cheesy books, unless it's a cliche love triangle that really tugs at the old heart strings.

I fully admit that I loved the first Twilight book (and the rest of the series,   except for New Moon which drove me nuts because I am so team Edward). The Hunger Games books were wonderful too and they really held my attention. After the first 100 dragging pages of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, I got VERY sucked into those books as well. The True Blood vampire series was a hit with me also. I loved those books and I remember being so excited that it was going to be made into an HBO series. The first season was good, but then it spun out of control. I'm over the show and the books at this point, because I am so confused about what characters are dead in the show and who's still alive in the books.  It just confuses people.

 I'm not opposed to best sellers at all, but I struggle to find books that are the right fit for me. After I heard the hype, I did cave and I read the first Fifty Shades of Grey book. Yes, it was super hot and Christian Grey sounds like a nasty guy, but the story was dumb. I couldn't stomach the second book and I abandoned it after two chapters. I want an unforgettable story. I honestly can't even recall what the plot of Fifty Shades of Grey was. Sex, was that the plot? Can that be a plot? I guess so, but it's not really what I'm looking for.

I've got a new book on my nightstand, but I don't have a verdict on it just yet. It seems good so far, but we'll wait and see where it goes. Hopefully a storm of great books comes my way and the drought will come to an end.

I'm So Sorry Bruno

A while back I wrote a post about the big Victoria's Secret Fashion show. I still think the whole show is merely a vehicle for anorexic models to find their newest rock star boyfriends and maybe a little bit of network tame porn to boost ratings. They ain't selling lingerie! That's my opinion and I'm sticking to it.

One part of the show that I do like is the music. They always have great bands and singers playing live on the runway and it makes the show tolerable to normal women. Justin Bieber was there and that won me over for sure. The Biebs can do no wrong (I don't care if you smoke a little weed Biebs, you deserve it. You work hard and that Selena Gomez break-up was probably tough on you. You should drink a little liquor too, I don't care if you're underage. I won't judge you a bit.). They also had Bruno Mars perform. Before that performance, I will totally admit that I HATED Bruno Mars music. I would change the channel immediately if his horrible "Grenade" song came on the radio. I didn't get it and I didn't want to. Well, it turns out that he's a hell of an entertainer on a stage. He's got charisma up the yin yang and it's enjoyable to watch. I still didn't care for his songs, but I knew that he was a little firecracker and I could get on board if he was singing the right tunes. That being said though, I still talked a lot of trash on him in my Victoria's Secret post.

Fast forward 6 months and I'm sold. This tiny little fella put out a new CD and I've only heard a few songs, but I love them. This "Locked Outta Heaven" song that he played at the Grammy's with Sting is fantas-mic! This is some grade "A", kick ass pop music and I love it. I even bought this track, with real money, on iTunes and so I felt like he deserved an apology.

I'm sorry Bruno. I was wrong. You're Grenade song is still HORRIBLE, but you've outdone yourself with this new song and I can officially say that I like you. My running shoes thank you!

Candid Kids

Anyone that's friends with me on Facebook knows that I have some funny kids. I'm always (probably too much) sharing the hilarious, random comments that my kids say. I can't help it though. These kids really crack me up some days. My oldest, Sasha, is usually the star of these posts, but Lyla is really coming into her own with the one liners.

Last week we were eating breakfast and out of nowhere, my four year old says, "So after Jesus made me, was I just like out in space with my space helmet on?" I'm not exactly sure myself on the details of her where abouts before she was born, so I told her that I didn't think so. I guessed that she was in my tummy at that point. She then said, "With my space helmet on???" I don't know kid.

So the other day we are sitting in a waiting room with several strangers and a woman smiles at Lyla. My daughter then looks at me and very loudly says, "That lady just smiled at me mom. She smiled because I'm the cutest thing she's ever seen in the whole wide land." Everyone in the place sort of giggled a bit. A few minutes pass and some people leave the room and new folks arrive. It's pretty quiet now and Lyla has new information to share.

"Who did that fart?" I quietly shake my head at her, hoping that she'll stop. This kid goes C.S.I. when it comes to flatulence. She won't stop until she solves the case. It plagues her.  "I heard a fart mom. Who did that fart? Sasha, did you do that fart?" I am about to crack up, but I shake my head again, encouraging her to drop the subject. Sasha tells her that she is NOT responsible for the fart and tells Lyla to stop it. Lyla then says, "Probably one of them did it", and she gestures toward the strangers in the room who are desperately trying to ignore my kid. Now I am embarrassed for all of us. She then thankfully wraps it up with this little gem, "Well, maybe I probably did it. Sorry!"

In the end, I'm just thankful that it was the fart thing she latched on to. At age four, it could have been a lot worse. Lyla has hit an age where she is certain that any woman with an over sized belly has at least a couple of babies in her tummy. I will be mortified if this guess of hers is ever revealed in a quiet waiting room. We usually hear that one at grocery stores or restaurants where other noise drowns it out. We also get Sasha's fashion police comments like, "Wow, that outfit is VERY inappropriate. I can see way too much of that ladies boobs. She really needs a belt too mom, because I can see the top of her butt. Who's mom would let them dress like that?"

Inappropriate is one of the most used words in this house. I like that the kids are getting a feel for what is appropriate and what seems very inappropriate, especially when it relates to clothing choices. It probably doesn't help that they read US Weekly magazine while they get their hair done each day. As soon as those kids step foot in my salon, they simply can't sit down in my chair without grabbing a gossip magazine. They love to critique every one's ensemble. No one is safe, not even Miley Cyrus's dad, Brad Pitt.

Brad Pitt

Billy Ray Cyrus

 
Sasha is absolutely certain that these two people are the same man. They are both Miley's dad, and they both need to tell Miley that her outfits have been VERY inappropriate lately, and that her hair looks better longer.


Honest too a fault I guess. I shouldn't enjoy their comments nearly as much as I do.

James Franco

My friend Jessica and I went to the movies over the weekend. She is my perfect movie date. We love a good R-rated flick, especially if it's a comedy. We have the same taste in shows. So when I called her up and told her we should go see Spring Breakers, she was totally on board.

So we sit down in the theater and within five minutes of the movie starting, we look at each other and Jessica says, "We'll give it five more minutes." Everyone knows exactly what that means. She and I are NOT prudes at all. I was a wild child myself, but this movie took it a million steps further instantly. I think we might have been close to being slightly offended by the content of the show. A movie has to be pretty crude to make me and Jessica feel like old maids. We were both like, "Whoa, we are totally moms now!!!" It freaked us out about raising our own daughters in the world today.

I love Selena Gomez and the whole first half of the show we were just hoping that Selena would smarten up and get away from her awful, foul mouthed, dirty, violent friends. I couldn't relax until she was 100 miles away from all the Spring Break debauchery. We both wanted her to be safe.  I just kept thinking, run Selena! Justin Bieber will take you back and keep you safe girl! What the hell are you doing in Florida anyway?

We stayed for the entire, crazy, movie though. It was only an hour and a half, but it got super weird. I wouldn't recommend this show to anyone, but I have to say that James Franco was amazing. He was completely unrecognizable and he played the thuggy, trashy, drug dealer type to perfection. He was like a skinnier Kevin Federline. The more I think about it, the more impressed I am with him. If this movie were anything other than "Spring Breakers", he would be up for an Oscar for sure. The dude is committed when he's playing a part. Jessica works for Delta and she always sees James at the airport. I told her she needs to ask him if he was super uncomfortable during some of the scenes in this dirty movie. How could he not be? My skin is crawling just thinking about it. Good work James. I hope you got to keep that shiny grill as a souvenir!

 

Isn't this a crazy transformation? That guy up there normally looks like this guy down here.

Good hair and clothes make a huge difference.

P.S.
My spell checker always has to try to correct me on the same words. When is this system going to learn that "Bieber" is a word and "Thuggy" is a word?

A Case for a Bounce House

Having kids has taught me so much about the world. Like for instance, the world DOES NOT revolve around me (blew my mind) and no one cares if my dinner is cold when I sit down to eat it. My kids also taught me that my living room floor is covered, not by carpet, but by an alarming amount of hot molten lava. So much so that my kids are often forced to tear apart my pricey leather couch and jump from one cushion to another just to avoid burning to death in said lava. While I appreciate their caution, I also found myself getting really sick and tired of reassembling my couch everyday. That's when the stroke of genius hit me. I don't need a nice looking living room with couches that never get sat on. I need a trampoline or bounce house.

I remembering seeing the movie Big when I was a kid. Tom Hanks had two things that rarely go together. A kids mentality and money. He got himself a huge loft apartment and filled it with everything a kid could possibly want, full size arcade games, Foosball table, toys and a trampoline. I was so inspired by his awesome loft apartment. I swore right then and there that I would put a trampoline inside my house when I became an adult and I had my own money. I also vowed to own my own roller rink and marry the lead singer of Skid Row. The roller rink and the rock star proved to be beyond my grasp, but I can totally purchase a trampoline.  I ended up marrying a grown up though and the trampoline plan was quickly vetoed. So I went with the next best thing, an inflatable bounce house.

I told Dave my plan and he was not on board. The following weekend was my daughters birthday and we went to Boondocks (a family fun center) to celebrate. We came home with thin wallets, loads of junky toys and my oldest daughter got the best souvenir of all....Pink Eye! Dave, ever the raging germaphobe, immediately concluded that we would never again visit the germ ridden Boondocks. The kids were devastated by the news and I realized I finally had a great angle to sell him my bounce house pitch. It would be our very own, "uncontaminated", brand new "clean" bounce house and our kids could be super entertained without picking up all the kid sicknesses that plague our house and Dave's brain. SOLD!

I looked at a ton of them online and decide which one I wanted and I ordered it. Five days later it arrived on my porch and five minutes after that my couch was pushed up against the wall and we were bouncing. My kids were thrilled and they felt compelled to build up my mother ego again and again by telling me, and I quote, "You are the best mom in the whole world!" Gee thanks, and just yesterday I was called the meanest mom on the planet for insisting that my kid get her homework finished before we left for school. It's a manic life with young kids.

So here's the verdict. I am very happy with my purchase. This thing inflates in 20 seconds and deflated in a minute. Supposedly it folds up small enough to fit in a duffel bag, though we've yet to find a reason to put it away. My kids haven't had any interest in the T.V. (except for some Mario kart racing) and the couch hasn't been touched since the day the bounce house arrived. It's absolutely wonderful and if someone comes into my house and thinks it looks stupid sitting there in the living room, they are free to turn around and leave. So far though, everyone seems to love it just as much as we do.

Confessions of a Candy Crush Addict

I made a horrible confession on Facebook yesterday. It was painful to do, but there is something so nice about outing yourself via social media. I confessed that I am horribly addicted to the game Candy Crush Saga. It's so true and very embarrassing.

This dumb game was introduced to me on Facebook, but it's a really popular free ap that you can download. Free being the key word here. I adore free games and I  make fun of anyone who would pay real money to download a game or buy "boosters" that would get them further in the game. Paying money for this stuff is absurd because you don't have a chance of winning any real prize by beating your game. It's not like you're gambling in Vegas and you actually stand a slim chance of hitting a jackpot. If I get to the end of Candy Crush Saga I will not win anything. I would probably just be sad that it was over and my house would finally get a good cleaning.

Yesterday I became my worst nightmare. I could not pass a certain level of Candy Crush and I did what I swore I would NEVER do. I bought some boosters...with real money. I paid five dollars and I received boosters that would give me 5 more moves and boosters that would explode tons of candy. It paid off immediately because within a few minutes I passed several difficult levels of my game. This thrilled me to no end. I also had the joy of hitting rock bottom in my life. What have I become? How did this happen? It was so quick and easy to hand over my real money and I found out how the other half lives. I don't want to be like that. I want to hoard my money. I want to pass those levels without the aid of costly boosters. I crossed a line I never wanted to cross and it felt dirty.

Confessing all of this was wonderful. There is no way in hell that I'm going to send another penny to the Candy Crush creators. It won't happen. One of my girlfriends that I used to work with added a great comment under that Facebook confession. She said, "Don't tell Dave! You'll be in trouble!" She knows me and Dave all to well. I would be in big trouble and that's just fine with me, because I would punch Dave in the face if he spent real money on a game as dumb as Candy Crush Saga. I would change the passwords on the Paypal account and take away his credit card. I would Freak the Freak as we say in this house and I am certain he would do the same. That's exactly why I didn't mention this to him.

I will continue to play the dumb game and I swear that I will never again pay for a booster. It's times like this that I feel thankful that Facebook doesn't offer me instant shots of heroine by clicking "okay" to the credit card charges.  God only knows where I'd be now if they did.

Post Bachelor Depression

While I totally loved the finale of the Bachelor last night, I'm overcome with Post Bachelor Depression. Dancing With the Stars doesn't fill that Monday night void for me. Magical Mondays are gone until ABC can drum up some more of that sweet Bachelor drama for me. I'd kill for a new season of Bachelor Pad, but I haven't even heard whispers of one on the horizon. I'm truly shocked by this because there are so many gorgeous rejects left over from Sean's season. These women need a shot at Bachelor Pad. ABC can save a little money on the casting of it because I volunteer to do it for free! I was made for that job.

So back to the finale. I was totally rooting for Catherine half way into the episode. Lindsey is great too, but there was something so much more genuine and real about the pain and angst that Catherine was going through. It was so honest and heartfelt. I LOVED when Sean kissed her goodnight and left her room and she went after him. That's love for sure. I was not sure why Chris Harrison chose to make such a big deal about the moment when Catherine professed her love to Sean and he didn't say it back. He's not allowed to say it back. He touched his forehead to hers and I knew right then and there that he loved her back. I thought it was so tender. I was getting a little teary eyed about it.

The ending was magical. The letter, the gold dress, the hyperventilating. I loved every second of it. It worked out so perfect. Lindsey will look back on this experience and be thankful that Sean didn't propose to her. It will take time, but she will eventually come to accept that you don't want to be wearing that HORRIBLE silver dress of hers when you get engaged. It was so beyond awful. It gave her no shape at all and she just looked like a walking fish, a Salmon perhaps. I hated it so bad that I wonder if it didn't make it easier for Sean to dump her.

I'm very much looking forward to the televised wedding. Ashley and J.P.'s wedding was so fun to watch and I hope that Catherine and Sean have something similar. I was hoping that they had eloped already and that was the big surprise, but I'll be glad to watch it play out on T.V. All and all. Best Bachelor Finale EVER!

People I'd Like to Smack

If the words "white trash" offend you, this post might not be for you.

Sometimes I do a little grocery shopping at a sketchy store that is often filled with a mix of bargain hunters (myself included) and the ever interesting members of "meth nation". It's shopping and a show. Sometimes it's entertaining, sometimes it's a frightening look into the future of America. I got the stomach turning glimpse the last time I went.

I stumbled upon a couple with a baby and what appeared to be another bun in the oven (it could have been a monstrous muffin top, but I'm guessing it was a pregnancy). The baby in the carseat was wearing a long sleeved onesie with an unsnapped crotch ( I guess it takes a lot of effort to snap a kids crotch snaps)....and that was the extent of the clothing. No socks, no pants, no coat, no nothing. Dad (I'm assuming here) had head tattoos, which is never a good sign. The head tats appeared to be gang related, which really does make a head tattoo that much worse. It just seems like a very limiting life decision. In this economy I'm not wanting a gang tattoo on my forehead. What if you need a job and only the "Bloods" are hiring and here you've got a "Cryp" tattoo right there on your face?

Mom was also a hot mess in pajama pants and slipper at 1:30 in the afternoon, but we won't even go there. They were ahead of me in the check out line and watching them made me really super excited to go get my taxes done. They had three separate grocery orders on the conveyor belt. Two were paid for with food stamps. That covered all their basics like bread, peanut butter, milk, cheese, eggs and formula. The third order, the one they were paying for, included the most important purchases. They had a case of beer, a carton of cigarettes, five 12 packs of Mountain Dew and a boat load of hamburger meat. The total on this grocery order was expensive. Soda and cigarettes can really eat up a grocery budget. I was glad they had those food stamps for the other stuff, because it would have cost them an arm and a leg if they had to pay for all of it themselves!

I paid for my groceries and headed out to the parking lot, relieved to be out of there and that's where the plot thickened. The lovely family had loaded their groceries into the GMC Yukon and dad sat in the front seat, taking on his I-phone. Mom lit herself a cigarette inside the car, with all the windows closed so that the little kid in the carseat could get all the benefits of a cigarette while still lacking the dexterity to hold a cigarette for herself. Lovely. I drove home feeling so sad for that kid in the carseat with two complete idiots for parents. I thought to myself, what chance does that little girl have for success in the world when her example is dumb and dumber?