The problem...

I'm so crafty when I can break away from the internet. It's almost more fun just seeing the ideas.

Birth Order

I am the baby of my family. My sister is the oldest and brother is a middle child. It's hard to pinpoint what characteristics come with this, but you know them when you see them. I'm sure it has everything to do with how much parenting experience your folks had when you were born.

The oldest child: If the circumstances were good, the first born had two freak show parents. Neither parent knew what to do or what to expect. A cough signaled certain Pneumonia. A little crying was extreme colic that warranted a trip to the doctors office. The first baby eats every 2 hours on the dot and every whimper is answered with mommy's attention. Far too much attention was paid to the oldest in the early days of their lives and mom and dad had to learn how to parent using the eldest for all their trials and errors. There would be MANY trials and errors. Long before the parents have a clue about what they are doing, the second will be on the way and your solitary life of attention will come to a halt. The upside is that all your clothes were new! You're younger siblings will have to wear all the crap that you happily stained.

The middle kid: This kid is temporarily the baby so all is well. This kid has to be amazing, super cute, or of a different gender than the others to keep mom and dads attention. This kid needs to resort to extreme good behavior or super naughty behavior to keep the spot light. If mom and dad get busy with the next baby, it will be fine, because this kid has an older sibling who is more than happy to boss this kid around. The middle kid will never have the insane amount of solitary attention that first born had, and sadly your spot as the baby will be ever so temporary. This kid is lucky because mom and dad aren't complete freak show idiots anymore, and they are busier now so you can get away with a bit more than the oldest could. If the middle kid gets frustrated with their plot in life, they can take it out on the baby (as long as mom and dad aren't watching).

The baby: Oh the baby! You will always be the adorable little, trouble making baby. Your siblings will love bossing you, yet they sort of resent you for stealing some of their attention. The rules will be very relaxed for you little one. The curfew for the oldest was 11:00 and you can feel free to stroll in at 12:45 because no one is awake to notice. You can fly under the radar. Mom and dad aren't overly worried about you because they already know that everything will work out in the long run. Who cares what you eat? Go to bed whenever you like. You are the baby, and you can expect to get your way. No one has the time or care to stop you.

I don't know exactly why, but I look back and notice that I almost NEVER dated anyone who wasn't the baby of the family. I married a youngest kid and strangely every boyfriend I ever had was the youngest of their siblings too. I don't think I ever once even had a crush on an oldest child. I wonder why this is? Now truthfully, I can't remember each and every one, and I'm not sure if the regular rules apply in blended families, but really I've only ever liked the last born kid. Why? I'm not exactly sure.

Bad Driving Habit

It's plain and simple. I can't drive on mute. I have a few choice words that I can't stop using when I'm driving. All the other drivers on the road are only known to me as "dumbass". I don't know how or when it started, but here we are.

"Green means go dumbass! Are you color blind or what?"

"Hey dumbass, you aren't smart enough for talking and driving! Hang up the phone dumbass!"

"If you're turning, get in the freaking turn lane dumbass! Don't be shy now!"

"Oh poor dumbass, did you car not come equipped with blinkers?"

Sadly, my children are now very aware of what makes someone a good driver in mommy's eyes and also what makes someone an awful driver. All over town you can hear my children in the backseat saying, "Seriously DUDE! Are you being serious right now?" They have been sweet enough to replace dumbass with the kinder, "DUDE". "Is this dude trying to make us late for ballet? Go dude!" Sasha often makes references to Mario Kart and begs me to get into "Mini-turbo", which means she'd like me to draft someone until we get a little turbo boost of power, resulting in us passing the car super fast. This is the regular car chatter. It's reality right?

I, like everyone else on the planet, am super tough in the safe confines of my car. I doubt I'd be so mouthy if the other drivers could actually hear me. I like to imagine how I'd behave if there were no cars and we all traveled on bikes. Would I really be the brazen enforcer of my own personal rules of the road if the other bikers could hear me?

Yes I would. Move over dumbass, get out the way. The fast bikes ride on the left!!!

US Weekly

We don't get the Newspaper, and Curious George or Wizards of Waverly Place usually plays on the television in place of the news. We have the internet so we are somewhat informed, but let's be honest. There is never any good news being reported. By "good", I mean happy or uplifting. Most of the news is pure Debbie Downer. I understand that our world is chalk full of horrible, mean, malicious people, but I don't want to hear about them. I have young kids and I'm already doing all I can to keep them safe, I can't watch the news and hear about all the crazies who are doing awful things to kids. It's a feeling of helplessness that drains me. So it's no surprise that our number one source of "journalism" (yes, I am using that term lightly) is our long awaited US Weekly. It's fluffy news! Good news! The pictures are pretty and the content is light as a feather. I can be happy that Reese Witherspoon is expecting a baby with her newest husband. I want to hear that. I can't wait hear if she's having a boy or a girl. What will she name this baby? This is the news I can handle hearing first thing in the morning. If this makes me a horrible person, then I'm thrilled to be one!
Technically I have to be an US Weekly subscriber. You can't have a hair salon in your home and not provide fresh US Weekly's. Well, you can, but why would you want to do that? It's a horrible thing to do to your clients. They want the gossip magazines, they need them, as do I. In fact, my whole family needs that magazine. I look forward to walking out to my mailbox every Friday just to see what "news" made the cover this week. I put on my sunglasses, sit on the front porch and read it cover to cover while my kids play in the yard. It's beautiful really. What's ugly is the scene you would witness if I opened the mailbox and didn't find my magazine in there. This has happened before and it's the beginning of a witch hunt. First thing I do is suspect that my elderly mailman has taken my magazine home for the weekend to read it himself. That doesn't sound entirely probable, so I quickly move on to plan B. I summon my kids to the sidewalk and we begin the journey to the next street over where there is a house with my same house number. My mail sometimes ends up at this woman's house and it never occurs to this woman to bring it over to me. I can't tell you how many times I've walked over there and she's sitting down reading MY magazine (before I do!). I understand why she does it. I'd do the same thing if I were ever lucky enough to have an awesome neighbor who subscribed to the most kick ass magazines. But I don't. I once got her Readers Digest and I tried to retaliate, but the content was awful and I couldn't read it, so I kindly delivered it to her.
So I read it every Friday afternoon and Dave then reads it during dinner or while eating breakfast Saturday morning. This mans world has been so much better since he started enjoying all the perks of life with me. He gets to watch all the best reality shows and he has full access to my gossip magazines. He really enjoys these simple pleasures now. Who wouldn't? So after he reads it, the magazine gets put in my salon where my daughters get to look through it every morning when they get their hair done. Sasha has learned to read and she practices her reading in my magazines. She is learning how to spell lots of different names and she is becoming a mini pop-culture expert. This is a dream come true for me! In fact, just this morning she asked to eat a Pop Tart with butter on it. I asked her where she got the idea to put butter on it and she said, "Jessica Simpson eats them with butter. The magazine said she likes Macaroni and Cheese and I like Macaroni and Cheese, so maybe I'll like Pop Tarts with butter on them too." And it turns out Jessica Simpson is on point with this one. They are delicious with a little butter melted on top.

Movie Date

I got quite a treat this fine Sunday. I got to go on a mid-day movie date. Dave and I almost never go to the movies. We are cheap skates yes, but for the most part it's really due to the fact that most movies are so stupid these days. We only go if my sister (the professional movie goer) gives a movie two really solid and callused thumbs up. So I'm sure everyone who saw a movie this wonderful weekend, went and saw The Hunger Games. I really did want to see it, but getting Dave into a movie theater is hard enough, without adding the excess of people who are seeing a movie on it's opening weekend. Dave doesn't do "people". He hates crowds and he isn't the least bit interested in sitting right next to a stranger at the movie theater. I'm lucky that he'll even sit right next to me. So obviously we are only going to see a movie that has been out for a couple of weeks. We saw 21 Jump Street and it was AWESOME! I love a good "R" rated comedy. I usually go see these sort of movies with my girlfriend Jessica because she also loves a raunchy R-rated flick. We laugh like crazed hyenas and it's just obnoxious. We usually go to the movies mid-week, mid-day to avoid putting the masses through this. Though she would have loved this movies, Dave also enjoyed it.

So we show up for the Sunday matinee and it's still $6.50 a person for a ticket. I haven't been to a night movie in over 5 years. I would seriously not enjoy the movie if I paid $9.00 to see it. I'd pay that for a David Beckham peep show (maybe even $20.00 if I'm being honest)....but that's about it. There would be hell to pay if I saw a horrible movie and the price tag was $9.00. But back to the story. We paid for our tickets and we must have been feeling like big shots because at the exact same time we both said, "Let's get some popcorn." So we walk up to the concessions stand and I'm feeling like I don't mind wasting $4.00 on some popcorn. Well, it turns out that a toddlers portion of popcorn is now $5.00. Now, we don't need a large or anything, but that would have set me back $8.50. I can feed my family dinner for less than that! We just looked at each other and said, "Um......I don't need it that bad." So we skipped that, but I'm no dummy so I'd already smuggled in a drink and two bags of candy.

So we settle into our fancy seats and it's great because hardly anyone is in the theater. The lights dim and we watch about 6 mini movies. I guess you'd call them previews, but they were really long and detailed and I really feel like I saw 6 short films. They have a category at all the award shows called "short films" and I've never seen a real one, but previews should start to count in that category. I haven't made it to a movie in time for the previews in forever. I enjoyed it very much because it was a little more bang for my buck. This is all a real treat for me because it really is that rare of an experience. So we watched the previews/ short films (and loved them all!) and wouldn't you know it, our candy was all gone before the opening credits of our feature began. Lucky for me, I didn't need treats for the real show, because 21 Jump Street is a treat all by itself. My mascara was smeared by the end of the show. I was crying from laughing so hard. That kind of laughter is totally worth $6.50. So we loved the show , but in my home life, I never really sit down for two solid hours, so when I get up after the show I feel like I'm in physical therapy. Like I'm learning to walk all over again. It's like one leg has fallen asleep or something. Now I have to go down all these theater stairs and they are really tall and long and I have to walk down them like a toddler. Two feet on each step. But walking like a toddler is fine because I went out on a real movie date and it was awesome! I encourage all the shut- in's of the world to leave the house and see a movie. It's incredibly loud and exhilarating! I sound so pathetic here, but I had a really good time. So I'll make a public plea to Hollywood and ask that they all try a little bit harder and stop putting out so many crappy-ass movies so that I can justify going to the movie theater a bit more often. And I found the cutest sandals on sale at Sears.....and I bought them, even though Dave was with me! What a day!

I love Pintrest, but this is my struggle with it

Do I attempt to make all these delicious, food porn, treats or do I find a time machine, go back to age nineteen, starve, tan, get a rockin' boob job and photograph my abs? I'm torn.

Where are the seatbelts?

I am happy to say that this nice weather is finally motivating me to take Lyla for a spin in the jogger stroller. We walk Sasha to school and then our walk/run begins. It's nice and I always feel great after. I'm so glad it's not freezing cold anymore!
But this post is in not at all about exercise. This is about what I am seeing everyday while walking. There seems to be an excessive amount of floater kids passing me in cars. That is to say lots a parents don't think it's necessary to put their kids in seat belts for the ride to school. Most of them are riding in the back seat, but I have seen tons of them in the front seat too. I even see a kid riding on a parents lap. This lap riding seems to be a long standing tradition in this community. I recall seeing lots of otherwise intelligent individuals driving home from church in the late 80's with a toddler "driving" on their laps. Apparently, some of their descendants live in my neighborhood. It is a strange site to see these days. I recall a photo of Britney Spears doing this with one of her babies. At that moment, it was confirmed that society doesn't find this behavior acceptable or adorable.
I've also seen kids riding in the back of a truck too. In 2012! I note the year because riding in the bed of truck was not only legal (according to my dad and Ashleys older brother Josh) when I was a kid, but it also seemed to be the preferred seat for the kids to ride in. I get it because kids seem quieter when you don't bring them into the vehicle. I spent a good part of my childhood riding in the white-trash convertible (a truck bed) and I loved it. I knew it was dangerous, that was the appeal.
It was also totally acceptable for a kid to sit in the front seat when I was a kid. I was a real contender for shot-gun at a young age, though being the youngest, I rarely won that coveted spot. The front seat was obviously the best seat in the car and I knew it from a young age. There were no air bags, so I guess the front seat wasn't overly dangerous for a kid, but my mother never wrecked the car, so we never really found out. There were no car seats and boosters. I thank my lucky stars that there were no boosters, because I would have been riding in my booster seat to Junior High! It's not fair for the short kids! My mother, bless her heart, felt that the floor of the car was by far the safest place for a kid. When we would pull out onto dangerous roads, my mother would order us down to the floor. She had survived a crash on the floor and by damn that knowledge would not go to waste! So that's where you'd find me half of the time, on the floor of the car.
In modern times, I don't risk it with my kids. I want them to be safe in the car, but more than that I want them to be confined. I don't need my kids to have that freedom that allows them to reach over and really smack each other in the back seat. I sure as hell don't need a kid hanging on the back of my seat or climbing all over the place. That would drive me nuts! My kids have had a healthy dose of the seat belt Kool-aid. I have led them to believe that mommy will be thrown in jail if they aren't properly restrained. Judging from my neighborhood school commute, this isn't true at all, but I want them to feel uncomfortable without their seat belts on. One day I pulled out of the driveway and drove down the street and suddenly both my kids started screaming hysterically. I pulled over because I thought surely one of my kids heads must have spontaneously detached and is now rolling on the floor of the car. No, that wasn't the case. I had placed Lyla in her car seat, got distracted somehow and forgotten to buckle it up. My kids were horrified at my negligence. Mission accomplished!

Well That Was Easy

My girls were scheduled for a dentist appointment. My five year old LOVES going to the Doctor or Dentist. I can't really pinpoint the reason why, but she loves these appointments. I think she likes having "plans", and she just loves social outings in general. She is always very engaging with the office staff and she loves to be big deal. She enjoys interacting with adults. Also, she LOVES band-aids. She's the type of girl who comes home from school with a new band-aid at least once a week. A blood-less, phantom paper cut is a fantastic opportunity to try out a shiny new band-aid! This is the kid you don't mind taking to the doctor or the dentist. Her excitement makes it fun. She's easy, she behaves.

Lyla, on the other hand, isn't game for this stuff. She is the kid who panics at the sight of the parking lot at the doctors office. She is not one to be tricked. She almost NEVER goes to the doctor. She would have to be pretty darn sick for me to even consider taking her in. She is the kid who mainly goes in for her yearly "well child" exams and even those are enough to bring out her doctor rage. She is the kid who recently told her doctor, "Don't look at me! DON'T LOOOOOK ATTTTT MEEEEE!" as she tried to kick him in the face and junk repeatedly. It's probably no surpriseat all that she is also a giant freak show at the dentist. She tells me ahead of time, "I be freak show at dentist". I wouldn't take her at all if I didn't already have an appointment for Sasha. The way I see it, watching her sister behave and have a pleasant experience, is the best way to calm her nerves about the going to these appointments. So when I knew we had a Monday appointment, we decided to start talking her into it a week ahead of time. Sasha and I repeatedly discussed how exciting it is to see the dentist, get a teeth cleaning with the "fancy" toothbrush and how great it is to pick out a brand new tooth brush! Lyla was started to get on board. By Monday morning she seemed fine about going to the dentist. She wasn't excited, but I thought she would at least not kick and scream. At 1:30 we walked into the dentist office and Lyla was uncharacteristically sweet and cooperative. She did EVERYTHING they asked her to do. They even got X-rays! She didn't bite, she didn't shed a tear. It was WONDERFUL! At the end of the appointment, her dentist asked me the dreaded question...."Does she still use a Binky, because her teeth don't really close together? She has a Binky bite." I shamefully had to admit that I've let her sleep with her Binky and he said very sternly that we have to get rid of it ASAP. He looked right at Lyla and told her to go home, get it out of her bed and throw it in the garbage. He also told her, "You're to much of a big girl for a babies Binky." So we get home and she goes directly to her room, retrieves her beloved Binky and marches down to the kitchen to throw it away. There was no emotion at all. She just threw it in the garbage and said, "Yucky Binky. I too big for that." And that was it. Naturally I was a bit skeptical about this "good riddance" act of hers. I hoped it would be the end of the Binky era, but I was not looking forward to the night ahead. I prepared by making her skip her nap, that way she'd be good and sleepy at 7:30. I got her ready for bed, and put her down. I gave her an extra "pet" to sleep with and walked out. 15 easy minutes later, she was asleep. She woke up the next morning and immediately asked if we could get the Binky out of the trash.....no was the answer she received and I haven't heard another word about it since. That was so easy! Is our dentist a magician with words or what?

I've hit the nail on the head here...

Don't Scare Me Anymore

My five year old daughter doesn't know it, but she is trying to find the worst possible ways to wake me up in the morning. I use the term "morning", but what I really mean is quarter to dawn. She always wakes up at quarter to dawn. School could begin at 6:45 and she would be there with bells on. I'm not accustomed to sleeping in, but I do like to keep my eyes closed until 6:59 if possible. We have been dealing with Sasha's early rising for quite some time. Long, long ago, we put a digital clock in her room. I asked her to wait for the 6 to turn into a 7 and then we can all be awake. She is more than welcome to wake up super early and play with her things in her room. She is usually really good at this. She can be found counting the money in her piggy bank (literally counting like 1 coin, 2 coins, 3 coins) at 6:15 in the A.M. She has built many mega block castles before the sun has even considered rising. I just accept that this is the way she is. It's not a problem at all until she gets bored and comes looking for company. When she wants to wake me up, she is very stealth. She won't make a single sound until she is 6 inches from my face, and then all at once she will loudly and abruptly say, "Hey MOM!". I jump up because I am scared to death, confused and my heart is racing. I asked her to stop doing that, and she agreed, so yesterday I'm sleeping soundly and I feel a tiny finger drawing a line on my forehead that would connect my eyebrows to one another. This if far worse than having "HEY MOM!" screamed in your face. I nearly punched her accidentally. I didn't know what the hell was going on. I didn't know if my murderer was drawing on my face before killing me or if a spider was using my face as a shortcut. Maybe my husband is cruisin' for a bruisin'. I just didn't know and it scared me to death. I jerked up outta bed so fast that my neck still hurts today. She was waking me up to tell me that she needed to pee.....she is 5, she can pee independently and she walked past two bathrooms to tell me this. Her dad was already up and she bypassed him to alert me. I know she loves me, but this is ridiculous. The only worse way to wake up is to the sound of a two year old yelling the words, "I need go POO POOOOOOO! Really really bad!" from a far away crib. Either way, I'm up for good. I never thought I'd miss the calming sound of a blaring alarm clock.

Junior High Lunch

While Jr. High School did suck, I do miss the good old days when you could eat garbage for lunch and it was totally acceptable. There was a lunchroom at my school, and we had the classic lunch ladies there, but I didn't eat that sort of lunch very many times. Of course there were the occasional Taco and Tater tots days, but for the most part, I skipped it. I took my four shiny quarters directly to the vending machines! I don't know if public schools are allowed to have garbage filled vending machines anymore. I doubt it, but in 1991, we had an amazing selection of high calorie, zero nutrition snacks to chose from. Most days I'd buy a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos or Munchos. Everyone knows what Cool Ranch Doritos are. They are some sort of corn chip, covered in a delectable zesty ranch powder. I bet I ate Munchos at least twice a week for two years, and I could not tell you what a Muncho is. It could only be described as fried, fried stuff, or potato dust that had been fried into oblivion. They were delicious and if you ate them with Dr. Pepper, they would instantly melt in your mouth. I, like everyone, had my Cheeto's phase, but the powdery cheese could easily get out of hand and the next thing you know, you're walking the halls of South Jr. High with orange all over your face, and this was way before it was cool to have an orange face. I'm sure today most 13 year old girls wouldn't even be able to tell if they had Cheeto or Dorito powder on their faces. Bronzer is far to accessible for the young crowd.
So like I was saying, I'd get my bag of chips and I'd get in line at the soda machine. There, I would spend my last two quarters on a freezing cold can of Dr. Pepper, or Mountain Dew. All these flavors must have blended well on my 13 year old pallet. So now you find your little clique of friends and you're ready to consume your disgusting feast.
This lunch time ritual would be judged very harshly today. Even I would be disgusted to watch a rotten little teeny bopper eat that. But twenty years ago, no one judged. It was a simpler time. I didn't know what a carb was, and I had no aversion to Saturated Trans Fats. High fructose corn syrup was a member of the vegetable family back then. Why would you ever drink something that didn't deliver calories, sugar and caffeine to you belly? I bet people would have laughed hysterically if they saw a fifty cent bottle of water in the vending machines in 1991. It was just unheard of. All the teens would have said, "Isn't that the free stuff that comes out of the communal drinking fountain? What sort of idiot would spend the quarters they took from their mothers wallet on water?".
So after I ate my garbage with my friends, the bell would ring and I'd be forced to walk into the depths of hell...7th grade social studies, a.k.a. "Utah History". I HATED this class almost as much as I despised the teacher. He was a sad, depressed and awful version of Stephen Colbert and Bob Sagget. So this miserable man, in his dank, windowless classroom would start droning on about who knows what while I desperately searched for something to hold my attention. I recall scanning my classmates daily, desperately hoping to develop a mad crush on someone, anyone, just to make this hour tolerable. Add to all this the inevitable sugar crash I was having from my trash lunch. The whole thing was a recipe for disaster. Almost all my detention time was earned in that horrible class.
I'm so glad I just relived this terrible time in my life, because I am so thankful that I'm now a 33 year old grown up. I no longer have to spend my days in Jr. High lock down. I'm so sad that I will one day have to watch my own daughters go through this awful phase of life. It will be painful to stand by helplessly watching it. The good news is that my Jr. High school burned to the ground a few years ago. I drove by it one day and I was absolutely delighted that all my fantasies had come true! It brought a certain peace that those days are over, forever! Good Riddance!

Farewell Jersey Shore

I will totally admit that I love the Jersey Shore! I didn't watch the first season, but after all the "Italian American" controversy, I was interested in seeing what all the fuss was about. I watched one mid-season episode and I fell madly in love with my Guido's and Guiedettes. What's not to love? The very next day I hit the internet to download all of season one and I watched them over the next couple of days. Somewhere during this Jersey Shore marathon, Dave got the bug. His interest was as innocent as mine and a couple years later, Jersey Shore is a high priority recording on our DVR.
I love the tiny, drunken Snooki. I'm baffled by Deena, but I love that she and Snooki are "the Meatballs". J-Wow's boobs are a weekly draw. They are crazy huge, and I love that she dresses like such a skank. If a Jersey Girl is going to pay for monster jugs, she might as well transform her wardrobe to really show them off. I am so glad Ron and Sam are getting along this season, but I also love when they fight. I would love to taste Ron's infamous blender drink, better known as the "Ron Ron Juice". Mike, "the Situation", is annoying, but good for T.V. I wish he never would have been a contestant on Dancing with the Stars. I didn't need to see that. I lost some respect for the Situation during that time. I can't believe how incredibly pigeon toed he is???? And that leaves me with the best Bromance of all time. My beloved Pauly D and Vinny. These two are like the "old married couple" of Seaside, NJ. I wish Vinny would have hit the gym and started tanning a bit earlier, but I love that crazy mama's boy anyway. They love each other in a way not many man friends can. They are adorable. I want so badly to touch Pauly D's blow out. I would normally think it was pathetic for a 30 year old man to use Spiker and blow-out his hair for 30 minutes, but it's great for Pauly. In fact, I love him for it. He really is "fresh to death".

If I ever find myself in New Jersey, you can bet your life that I will be making the pilgrimage out to Seaside Heights. I would first go directly to the Shore Store and buy as much Jersey swag as I could get my little hands on. Then I would get a drink at Jenks and start to prepare for a wild night a Karma. I would fist pump and jersey turn pike with a smile on my face. It would be the ultimate Jersey experience. Dave would love it!

I have no idea what will happen to the Jersey shore house this summer. Snooki and the tiniest Guido on the planet, Gianni are going to have a baby and so I know she won't be back this summer. It makes me sad to think that Dave and I just watched our last episode of this little gem of a show. I will watch the "Pauly D" spin-off show and supposedly J-Wow and Snooki have a spin-off too. Yes, I'll watch that one as well, but I will miss all the GTL, and all the drama.
Until we meet again Jersey Shore, I will miss you.

Juliet Simms vs. Sarah Golden: "Stay with Me"

Juliet is a rock star! I don't like the original Rod Stewart version of this song, but I can't get Juliet's version out of my head!!!!! The "folky" girl is pretty good too, but give me a break, Juliet owns the stage on this one. Love it! I'm also getting a little tired of my daughter constantly asking me if Sarah is a girl or a boy.... I finally just told her that even I'm not sure of her gender at this point. Watching her is giving me "It's Pat!" flashbacks from those hilarious old episodes of Saturday Night Live.

The Voice