Why the Past Few Days Have Been a Little Bit Stinky…and Why I’m Hoping Today Will Be Better.

You would think that I’m so used to my crazy life that I would become immune to anything that is thrown my way. One would think that, yes. And yet I am repeatedly thrown off guard by the chaos and insanity. Seriously…do I just keep NOT learning? You’d think that courtside tickets for Sunday’s game would’ve created this Bermuda Triangle for all the chaos and bad things in my life to go to. While the game was incredibly fun, it just made Monday THAT much more offensive…and ugly…and made me want to cry. I could tell you about some of the accounting garbage that nearly drove me to jumping off the balcony into the river, but that includes telling you of accruals, balance sheet drama, journal entries, referencing, etc and I just don’t think I can do that to you.

You can thank me later.

But it was the chaos that ADDED to that chaos that made me want to cry. Things like my ear buds from my headphones not fitting into my ears properly. Turns out I had the right bud in my left ear and the left bud in my right ear but I had no clue my ears were so ear-bud-picky.

Or when you let your child “do” her own hair over the weekend, it is not until Monday morning that you realize that something is amiss. As Alonso brushed Paige’s hair…he just couldn’t figure out why the front looked so funny…so poofy. With his frustration levels at breaking points and wondering where all this “new hair” came from, I examined the situation only to find that the supposed “new” hair was actually CUT HAIR. It would seem that (at some point) over the weekend Paige got a comb stuck in her hair and the little troll attempted to CUT it out. The little troll’s explanation of why she didn’t ask for help in removing the comb was: “I don’t know.” Even “my dog at my homework” is better than that. Have I failed her as a parent in that she can’t even give me a decent excuse???

And then there was the chore chart that I created for the entire family to follow. Everything went fairly smooth all week. There is so much more order to too all things and I really am super proud of my organization and initiative. EVERYTHING on our list of daily/weekly chores got done…EVERYONE did their part. And THEN MIL tells me last night that we need to go over the chore chart because certain things didn’t get done last week. When I asked her what didn’t get done she pointed out MY project for the week. I gave her the most incredulous look I could come up with and said: “yeah-huh.” But because she didn’t SEE (with her own evil-eyes) the work get done, then it didn’t happen…it was ME that didn’t get the job done. I’m still berating myself for working so damn hard because it really was for no reason. Really. Why do I keep trying?

The bright spot to all of this is that I have declared Friday a holiday and I’m spending the entire day NOT AT WORK and yet NOT AT HOME, either. Good job me. I might even get to spend time with my mom…AND get my hair done. My week can only improve, right? I’m also not telling anyone in my household that I am taking the day off. As dishonest as that sounds, I just DO NOT want to deal with any of them knowing. I need a REAL day off and that WILL NOT HAPPEN if those people know about it. Sure, my passage to Hell has been bought and paid for. But I will have good hair come Friday at noon...complete with highlights. One has to look good in Hell, no?

Time Off for Bad Behavior

It’s been really intense at work. There is so much going on and everyone is a little on edge. I’ve been working so much and I’m really starting to hate this place. In geek terms, since I AM in accounting, that we do a full month-end close of the books…EVERY MONTH. It is October 13th and we JUST started on our close yesterday and have to have financials done by close of business Tuesday. That does not even cover the “extra” projects that are on my desk, too.

You just MIGHT sense the urgency and the intense situations that I am facing. A nervous breakdown was imminent. Or yelling at the CEO of our company. Yelling at any high level officer of a company is usually frowned upon…but I was just rewarded for it. Well…I think I just scared the bejezus out of everyone by my outburst when I’m usually so quiet and accommodating.

I’ve created a new image for myself now.

With SO MUCH work looming in front of me, I haven’t been leaving my desk very often. I heard quite the commotion over on the other side of our floor, but didn’t think much about it. I was focused on my bean counting responsibilities and couldn’t be bothered. As luck would have it, I needed to make a copy and walked over to the other side and found pretty much everyone on the floor surrounding our CEO. Our company has courtside tickets to the Sacramento Kings and they were having a drawing for four pre-season tickets for this Sunday. But only if you were in the general vicinity so that you could put your name in the empty oatmeal box they were using as a bucket. In passing, once I found out what was going on, I mentioned the injustice of not including those of us WHO WERE ACTUALLY WORKING. I was basically told, “Too bad…you should’ve been over here.”

Those bastards.

On my way back, I stop to ask a co-worker a question (so that can proceed with WORKING) and the four winners, the CEO and other various co-workers are talking about the contest and who won, etc. I think my late hours, working from home and dreaming about work is taking its toll on me. In the middle of their conversation I blurt out,

“I can’t believe I’ve worked here for EIGHT YEARS and have never gotten
tickets!”

“Well, where were you??!” says CEO. “You should’ve been out here!”

“I was WORKING Godammit!” (and then he laughs.)

Now, I may swear like a sailor...at times…but that is NOT a word I ever use. EVER. And then I pull out all the stops and swear at the CEO of our company??! My mom will be so proud when she reads this. May the shame and guilt officially begin.

And yet I now have a ticket to the game.

While John does have tickets for Tuesday’s game (so I don’t feel all that bad) I can’t believe that I am going to the King’s game Sunday. Courtside. Right behind the players. At halftime, Tracie (one of the winners) and I will switch with the other two who will be sitting courtside, center court. Now tell ME that the squeaky wheel doesn’t get that grease. Even if you do, I WILL NOT BELIEVE YOU. Apparently the “nice little girl” routine, while it might make people like you, it does NOT give you courtside tickets.

I’ve been living life so wrong.

I Hope You've Had The Time Of Your Life

Last night, in the car, one of the local DJ's announced the upcoming songs and artists. One of them being our beloved Green Day. From the back seat Abby's excitement is uncontainable and she yells, "MOMM! Green Day.....they say GREEN DAY!!"

Could a mother be ANY prouder? Most parents hope that they instill special talents like being a good speller...or a good athlete...or have really great hair. Me? I aim for the inevitable love for Green Day. The fact that the three year old has a love for Billie Joe and Co. that rivals my love...well, it just does the heart good. It's right up there wiith the first time she called me "mom."

Nevermind that she called my friend, Mary, "mom" BEFORE she called me "mom"....that's just a technicallity.

There are times when I look at my two girls and marvel at the fact that I'm a mom...even if I didn't get the title first. (Thanks to Mary.) I think about when they were born and how amazing those two events were. I think about the joy that feel as a mother...how a little voice singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" can bring you to tears...or how that first dribble down the soccer field brings out the absolute maniac out of you. Or the very first time your 3rd grader says that you don't have to walk them ALL the way to the class and you think your heart might break...and then smile the next day when they don't want you to leave. Even those times when you're about to pull your hair out because if they fight with eachother ONE MORE TIME you're gonna lose it...or when that same 3rd grader argues with you because her teacher told her a different way to do something...or when the three year old WILL NOT do what you ask her to. Being a mom (or a dad) is THE hardest job you will ever have. You will never feel so much guilt...so much happiness...so much pain...so much of a reward in your life.

The mom's of today put so much pressure on themselves to be "the perfect mom." There is this "need to please" and the need to prove that Wonder Woman does exist...and she's taken on the secret identity of that mom over there that drives the Volvo. It is almost like each mom is competing against the other to see who can put on the best fundraiser or bake the best cookies...or see who has the best hair.

Since pre-school...I've felt that need to compete. Like I'm not a good enough mom anyway because I work outside the home why bother trying to keep up with those other moms who are outdoing the other at any given opportunity. I'm so very tired of those mom's that will sit there and talk bad about other moms/parents just to further validate what they do. I mean, who died and left them in charge to make other parents feel like crap?? When Paige started 2nd Grade, I made a committment to myself that I would NOT get sucked into that vortex again. I would NOT try to compete with those other moms for the top spot only to get voted off the "island" when the next up and coming mom found something else to dazzle everyone around her. I've done a good job of not getting sucked in. I have let myself feel inferior (thanks to Oozie Lady) but I stay out of the drama...I stay out of the issues that come up because the other parents create those issues...and I make it a point to stay away from those parents and keep them at a distance when they just won't stay away.

I came accross a book the other night as I wondered the book store. (An evening at the book store BY MYSELF...THANKS DAD!) It was a new release written by a mom who takes a hard look at todays mom and how that monster was created. Just reading the inside cover of the book, I felt a connection to this other mother that wrote a book on the craziness that is: MOTHER. Why does every mother have something to prove? If ever there were an idea for a reality show (and please know I don't condone it) it would be mothers competing against eachother. The mom that throws the best birthday part or play date...or the mom that bakes the best cakes or sews the best costume.

It's disgusting.

I love how much I enjoy my daughters' school expereinces one I removed myself from the evil vortex of mothers. I still have (many) moments of inferiority complex...but I suppose that is to be expected when Little Suzy's mommy just sent out the birthday invitations for an event that rivals the Golden Globe Awards. It's excessive...and it's unnecessary...and I'm glad that it doesn't bother me as much anymore.

Bu then, I'm on my way to go color with Paige and sing (edited) Green Day songs with Abby. Life just doesn't get much better than that.

I'm So Dizzy...My Head is Spinning

When “Mr. Brightside” comes up on the MP3 player, it starts with music on only one side of the earphones. This happens with other songs, I know….hearing different instruments or vocals on either ear. But for some reason with that song, it makes me dizzy. Like…wicked dizzy for those first few seconds of the song and then everything goes back to the not-dizzy-state of being. Weird. I know.

I’m sure this has everything to do with my equilibrium (that whole inner-ear thing)…but does this totally prove how completely unbalanced I am? Or does my body just have an aversion to The Killers?

Blah, Blah, Blah...Mother In-Law, Blah, Blah, Blah

Anyone who reads JP and the MegaBeast with any regularity (all 6 of you) should know that when I haven’t posted for a week, or more, there is a hum-dinger of a post headed your way.

Today is no different. If only for the fact that you can expect me to have a good MIL story since she can’t go an entire week without pissing me off. I am NOT hard to get a long with…it completely boggles the mind that she can piss me off daily.

And yet she does.

MIL’s birthday was over two weeks ago. Being the dutiful daughter in-law that I am, I had been planning a lovely birthday dinner party in her honor with special dinner guests included. I had everything planned out so nicely and was proud of how organized I was. I gave MIL a heads-up so that she wouldn’t plan anything, and went along with planning the event.

And then I made the mistake of including her husband and sons in the planning. Reason #5387 why I can be the stupidest person on the planet sometimes. Not only did they completely disrupt all my beautiful planning and organization but they couldn’t even find a day that would “work for them” and come up with ANY viable solutions for making this dinner party work. It was THEY…NOT ME that postponed any birthday celebrating until just last weekend.

And it is ALL.MY.FAULT.

So…

*I plan a dinner, can’t happen because those men are worthless.

*MIL embarrasses me in front of my friends when she blames me for the lack of birthday celebrating and says something about the fact that I promised her a birthday dinner and didn’t come through. I’m paraphrasing, of course…but she speaks broken English…it’s better for everyone this way.

*I push and push the men to actually do something…they continue to be worthless. I make a rash decision to do Sunday Brunch. All dinner guests are now brunch guests.

* MIL does not get much sleep the night before due to getting ready for a class she has and is therefore very tired for Sunday brunch. This can only mean bad things for yours truly.

*IN FRONT OF ALL OUR GUESTS, MIL has the nerve to say that she had wanted to sleep in this morning but couldn’t because she was told that she had to get up early for this brunch.

*While sitting at the very same table with this woman after she just blamed me for making her wake up while just days before she blamed me for not doing anything for her birthday, I stare out the window trying NOT to strangle her with my bare hands and realize just how DONE I am. I’m done with everything being my fault. I’m so done. And no matter how much I bring to her attention, she just doesn’t GET IT.

I think I liked it better when I just wasn’t speaking to her. Even if she totally didn’t notice.

Cuteness at High Decibles

Abby had her first preschool field trip the other day to a neighborhood fire station. I think the picture accurately describes her enthralling experience:


It turned out to be only a 30 minute field trip so Alonso dropped her off here at my office earlier than planned. While I knew I wouldn’t get MUCH done with her with me, I tried to answer a couple of e-mails (and a voicemail) with her sitting on my lap. After telling Jess via e-mail that Abby was visiting me, Jess sends an Auntie’s Hello with her (e-mailed) response. Foolishly, I tell Abby that “Aunt Jess says Hi.”

Abby stops coloring with the myriad of highlighters she had confiscated from my desk and looks at my computer screen and says,

“Jess…what you say?! MOM! WHAT SHE SAY???!!”

Apparently the three year-old doesn’t fully comprehend e-mails. And I’m sure the co-workers would appreciate LESS YELLING from Abby as she awaits an answer from Jess on the computer screen.

Ironic that the people that sit the closest to me have no children. Abby just might be the best birth control out there…

Why You Should NEVER Take Three Children to the Pharmacy

With the past two weeks being the way they were, a trip to the pharmacy was NOT an option even though I’ve had a prescription for Paige’s nasal spray and eye drops for over a week. Yeah…the “Bad Mom Award” is in the bag!

Since I get out of work early on Tuesdays, I thought I would try out my Wonder Woman cape and take Paige, Abby and Michael to run errands with me after I picked them up from school. I know that my stupidity astounds you…but I had put it off long enough, I needed to check that off my to-do list. And so we went.

The slowness of this particular pharmacy turned “it will be ready in 15 minutes” to 45 minutes of watching these children terrorizing anyone and everyone that dared to cross their path. Abby ran at top speed to the other side of the store and darted down multiple aisles…tried on umpteen pairs of cheap sunglasses…and pretended to drink out of the baby bottles and sipp-y cups. Paige had to use the bathroom…twice. Michael TACKLED Abby to “catch” her on one of her attempts to outrun the law/her mother and then practically WWF-body slammed her to the floor to prove his point.

Seriously, where is the mother of these children, you might be asking?! Looking at lip gloss to save her sanity, thank you very much.

On one of my many attempts to just get them to hold still, they happened upon the blood pressure tester machine and the chair massager right next to each other. Foolishly, I thought this would occupy them for a time whilst I contemplated how I could get Abby “stuck” in the blood pressure machine until it was time to go. (Note: She’s too small…it didn’t work. Damn.) Fortunately and unfortunately, the chair massager was a big hit. Somehow, Abby got the first turn sitting on the chair. Due to her smallness, it just knocked her around a bit and she tired of it soon after she sat down. On to Paige who enjoyed the massage and took a bit of a longer turn than Abby…so Abby and I pretended to be enamored with the hair clips and brushes.

And then it was Michael’s turn at the chair.

I don’t know if Michael’s ever had any type of massage. A five year old usually doesn’t have that experience under their belt…but you never know. What I DO know is that Michael seemed to enjoy his turn at the chair due to him making noises of "pleasure" that made me sort of embarrassed. Actually, A LOT embarrassed. So embarrassed that I was SO glad when his focus turned to the blood pressure machine…and he got stuck.

I couldn’t decide if his yells of being stuck were worse than his “noises of pleasure” but I can tell you that I didn’t even care how expensive those darn prescriptions were because it got me right the hell out of that store.

After I caught up with Abby, of course.

Do You Celebrate a Blog Birthday or Blog Anniversary...and What is the Traditional Gift for Both?

Today, JP and the MegaBeast is a year old. Or as I like to call it, “it’s been a year of virtually free therapy with the internet.” Because, let’s be honest…that’s what it really is. When I started this whole “blogging” thing, I just needed a place to vent. To say what was on my mind without having to say it to any particular person. I starting blogging because Sarah told me it would be good for me.

And it has.

In the beginning, the MegaBeast represented all the frustrations, etc in my life that just needed to be dealt with. Over the past year, the MegaBeast has continued to represent any and all of my frustrations in life. Most recently that frustration is my mother in-law. I can picture some raised eyebrows out there at my sarcastic approach to my life…but folks, I have to laugh and poke fun at my life so that I can put it all in perspective. I’m learning how to deal with the difficult people in my life…to stand up for myself…to move away from being such a doormat…to remember what is REALLY important and what truly is not. I love being able to laugh at the silly parts of my life. I love that even though I have crazy stories about crazy people in my life (or just my crazy life) that I can still (eventually) laugh at the craziness and remember that I truly am so blessed. I have SO much to be grateful for and I am.

Through this crazy blogging world, I’ve also learned that I like to write. I’m not saying I’m good at it…but I have found that I like telling stories. It has become a release for me. It has been a way for me to be creative and truthful all at the same time. It has been fun to go back and see how my writing has evolved over the past year…good or bad. I love that I am creating a type of journal that I would never have if I wasn’t blogging it. Oh, my poor children.

But one of the best parts of this blogging stuff is the other bloggers. I LOVE reading those blogs I’ve come to love. I LOVE learning that other people go through VERY similar situations and understanding the “other side of the story” sometimes. I feel like I have this new network of friends, even though I’ve never actually met most of these people and they probably have no clue how much I enjoy them and their blogs. I fear I’ve become like a stalker to those blogs that entertain me. Do they have restraining orders for blog stalkers? I’m harmless. Really. But I do sometimes snort when I laugh at some of your posts.

It’s weird that it’s been a year. It’s weird that I still love to do this. Hell, whoever reads JP and the MegaBeast must thing I’m SO weird. But that’s okay.

Thanks for letting me play along.

Inter-Office E-Mails Between Sarah and JP

The thing is here. :) And by "thing" I mean the thing that D normally gets. Thank you.

It's here? wow...cool....will you bring it up at lunch????

What am I? Your burro?

Oh, heavens no. You're my bitch...

Welcome To Paradise

A while ago while having lunch with some co-workers and the topic of favorite celebrities came up. Okay, it was a topic of which celebrities you had the hots for…and in what order and by category. (What can I say, we’re in Finance…we have dork-ish tendencies.) The categories were simple…favorite celebs for TV, Sports Figure, Movies or Music and there really was no limit of choices to each category. We even created “young” and “old” sub-categories within each category. (i.e. old hottie: Sean Connery or Robert Redferd vs. current hotties like Brad Pitt and George Clooney. Yum.) We somewhat patterned it around “the list” as seen on Friends. You know, the list of celebrities that were okay/had permission to sleep with should the opportunity ever present itself. I’m not saying it’s EVER okay to sleep with someone, even if they are a celebrity…and, you know…so Brad Pitt-ish.

Anyway…I’ve digressed. My current list, as it stands right now would go as follows:

TV: I have a special place in my heart for Michael Vartan from ALIAS. It saddens me greatly that he may be going away from the show. But let’s not speak of such things. I also, like most red-blooded American women (and gay men) love Ty Penington. (sigh, swoon…etc.)

Sports Figure: As I’ve already written a post on this man, there really is not reason to bring up my crush on Lance Armstrong…but shoot, why NOT bring it up? He’s delicious and a do-gooder.

Movies: I love Johnny Depp. There. I’ve said it. I LOVE that Wacky Canadian. I do. He’s hot…he’s fun to watch in any movie…and he’s H.O.T. Did I mention that I find him HOT? Well…he is…HOT.

So that brings us to MUSIC. You may not be aware of this, but I love me some Green Day. Always have. But my love has grown over time for Billie Joe Armstrong. There is just something about that Punk Rock, too much eyeliner, potty-mouthed freak that is just so endearing to me. I can’t explain it…I don’t really understand it…I just accept it and move on with my Billie Joe loving self.

So, to my complete delight, last night Alonso and I made our way to their “Homecoming” concert in San Francisco at SBC Park with 50,000 other Green Day fans. It was a huge show…and it was one of the best, if not THE best, concert I’ve been to. It was such a good show…it was fun…and it was filled with much Billie Joe…and really, you can’t ask for more than that. They were so entertaining and they even threw in some of my old favorite songs with the new stuff, too. Can they be any cooler? (I’d say probably not.) I was so excited the entire show.

There was a dark cloud over my evening, though. Throughout most of the show, I worried that I had reached the point in my life where I have absolutely NO HOPE of being cool. I just had this feeling that I’ve hit that time in my life that the “younger crowd” takes one look at me hoppin’ and dancin’ around and thinks, “OH, HOLY HELL…SHE IS L.A.M.E.” and then laugh their way away from me. And I think, “Is THAT me? Am I turning into THAT woman?” And then I weep on the inside. (sigh)

But really, I can’t dwell TOO much on that when there was just so much time to love Billie. So much time to love Billie…and so much hate on my feet for standing the entire time on that field. It was all worth it though…you know, loving the Green Day and the Billie. And then after the show in the bathroom…this teenage girl saw my wrist band that got us onto the field and says to me,

“Ohmigosh…did you get to go back stage?!” as she pointed to the green wristband.

“Oh, no.” I laugh, “this was just what got us onto the field.

“YOU. Were in. The MOSH PIT?!?!?”

And before I could help it, I LAUGHED and nearly said, “Honey…what part of that crowd on the field looked like a Mosh Pit??? In MY day if you were in the Mosh Pit you would have the bloody lip and black eye to prove it.”

But…whatever. By that time I had experienced about six or seven contact highs and was really craving some french fries.

Because I'm Still Waiting For the Good Day

My boss’ name is Rita. Rita’s from Texas. One of our other executives walked into her office yesterday and said, “What’d Texas do to you?”

Is that funny? Because I’m still trying to find out if that’s funny. I just don’t think that was funny. But maybe that’s because it’s been a bad week. It’s actually been a bad two…maybe even THREE weeks. I’m sure you could tell by the really bad writing I just done did. I can’t even formulate a proper sentence, let alone make SENSE. I’d like to just blame it on Katrina or Rita (not my boss) but then I would feel guilty about THAT because I still have a home that is still standing…that is not flooded…I know where my children are. I still have my job and my car and a bed, not a cot.

But since I need to laugh, let’s make fun of my life. It’s always SO much more fun that way:

I have a MIL that really must think that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing as a mother because she just can’t seem to shut up. I’m thinking she may have a form of Turrets. But instead of any foul language and expletives, it is all about BUTTING IN. I feel I should consult a doctor on her behalf that will drug her with the good drugs. I’m all about the drugging…

I have a three year old that WILL.NOT.POOP. Something about the very idea of pooping does NOT scare the poop out of her. This is a huge road block in our quest for full potty-training accomplishments. You CANNOT get accepted into college if you are scared to poop.

I almost had a heart attack yesterday. Full on cardiac arrest because work has driven me to that point the past two weeks. I worked until 10:30 on Tuesday night because “someone” keeps making mistakes and that “someone” is NOT ME. Yesterday went to pot and I thought that I had ruined everyone’s life because of the way I had done something. I should note that I did it how I was told…but we all know how that works, don’t we. So things really DID go to pot but then got better because they all realized that I was PERFECT and did everything right…and that really is all that matters.

I had to skip out on a planned trip to Jamba Juice because Paige’s attitude prevented such a trip. Being a parent is HARD when you really, really, really want a Jamba and then your child you are treating to Jamba has a complete attitude and is rude to her mother and then you have to cancel the Jamba trip because children can’t be rewarded for bad behavior! Curses! Coincidentally, I also won the Worst Mother of the Year award for that one. I’d like to thank all the “little” people…

My husband sent me flowers last week and it wasn’t my birthday or our anniversary. The card said, “I hope this cheers up your day!! Love, Your Husband” and I’m seriously typing it word for word. What it should have said: “I am a complete ASS. You are the queen of the world and I shall worship the ground that you walk on because I am a COMPLETE ASS.” But of course, he would have to mean it and let the worshipping begin. He would also need to duct tape his mother’s mouth closed. That would score points.

I’d also like to note that there is a ‘fundraising event’ for the wicked preschool tonight that I really don’t want to go to but that I said that I would. It’s at a small, local amusement park complete with children’s noises and parents you want to strangle. I’m sure Oozie Lady and her pose will be there and I will feel sheepish. I did see O.L. last night as soccer practice, and that went very well…but still. She might feel safer in her pack and attack me. I also just want to go home and sleep because I really just want to sleep all that missed sleeping I have missed with the not sleeping.

And also, I want still want a Jamba.

But here’s hoping for a better week. I just don’t think I can handle another one like this one has been. I also don’t think that I can stay awake anymore. You think anyone will look for me if I hide in the supply closet?

Unexpected Montana Lingo

“They's lucky you showed up today, Dawg.”

“I expected the "ya'lls" and "y'hears" from the Montana influence. You've thrown me for a loop with the Ebonics.”

“Yo, I'm still in touch with my homies back in S-Town.”

I swear, if she comes home at Christmas wearing flannel plaid AND a do-rag…you can put ME out of my misery.

Did I Go Too Far?

I dealt with the oozie holding Mrs. Cleaver the best way I know how. I wrote a letter. And while that simple act puts me one step closer to becoming my father, it’s how I can say what I mean and feel without letting my emotions get in the way. I didn’t hold back. I let loose.

Well, I pissed her off. HER…the one that pissed ME off. And after the hour long conversation I had with her resolved all of our issues, I’m left feeling guilty for attacking her…even though I felt attacked too.

In this big game of Life, with the current generation, there will continually be this war between moms who stay home with their kids and moms that go to a job outside of the home. I work damn hard at my job and then go home and work damn hard for my kids. But I don’t think that stay at home moms work any less hard. Our lives are just different. Moms that work outside the home constantly feel judged for what they are NOT doing instead of what they are. And I would guess that stay at home moms feel judged for the very fact that they choose to stay home with their kids.

Why can’t we have the best of both worlds?

I offended Oozie Lady because I mentioned that the preschool was geared towards moms who stay home. (And it is.) But she felt I was putting a negative connotation on stay at home moms…when really, I’m frustrated with the dynamics of the preschool. I WISH I could stay home with my kids. I do. But right now that isn’t an option and I have to work hard to find balance in my crazy life.

But the craziest part of this whole battle is that we really are on the same team: Working hard for our kids and family. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that and still there continues to be judgment. I feel badly for not seeing that, even though now I am glad that Oozie Lady sees my side of the story, too. But wouldn’t it have been easier to respect the positions we are both in? Respect the “job” that each of us does. To just respect each mother and how hard they work for their family.

I’m done battling.

The Straw That Broke the Camel's Back

I hate my daughter’s preschool. Alright, that’s not true. I hate the PARENTS at my daughter’s preschool. Yeah, that about covers it. Oddly enough, I hate some of the same parents that were there when Paige went to that damn school too. I should’ve known better when I saw all those women poppin’ out kids around the same time Abby was born.

My stupidity has been noted. I’m an idiot. Let’s move on.

The thing is, I LOVE the preschool as a school. LOVE the program. LOVE the teachers. I HATE being punished for being a working mom. All those self-absorbed, stay-at-home communists make me feel like such a loser. And before all, you know, five of you start in on me about how I shouldn’t LET people make me feel this way, you really have to meet some of these moms. They are like Mrs. Cleaver...with fangs and an oozie.

I’m not joking.

They can take something so simple as…oh, I don’t know…DOING THE LAUNDRY FOR THE PRESCHOOL and turn it into restoring World Order for all the three and four year olds in the land. Complete with fangs and oozies. World order for preschool aged children warrants those, I guess.

I am THIS close to pulling Abby out of that school because it’s only the third week of school and I’m already contemplating homicide. Sure, Abby’s been on the waiting list for this school since she was a baby…but OH MY GOSH. Homicide, people! I just can’t take these people any more!

Maybe I should just stick them in a cage with my mother in-law and let them fight to the death, Gladiator style. My mother in-law will win, of course…but it WILL keep her occupied for at least a full day…maybe two.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Click on the picture or here to see my trip to the coast...I now have a big head thinking I'm an excellent photagrapher. Please remind me not to quit my day job.

Sarah's Wedding...I Haven't Forgotten

This could take years to document everything. There is just SO MUCH to discuss! First of all, the Bachlorette Party that could really be described as “An Evening at Sarah’s House.” We had a lovely time…but did NOTHING of your traditional or expected Bachlorette Partying. Since none of us are your average or traditional anything…this suited us JUST PERFECT. We beaded things, ate pizza, gabbed and laughed, and I learned why the color of your eyebrows were SO important. Well, informative, at least. It was a fun beginning to what will go down in history as: SARAH’S WEDDING: The Event.

The actual wedding took place on a Thursday at the Oakland Temple. As soon as Tif, my gram and I pulled onto the freeway, lo and behold it was Sarah and Dustin flyin’ up behind us. Funny, we “followed” them all the way to the temple and were there incredibly early being that only 1/3 of us were actually going inside the temple. Tif and I stayed outside and “primped” while we waited. It was so wonderful to see Sarah walk out of that temple so happy and so married, just as she’s always wanted.

She was a stunning bride.



And dang...were the bridesmaids not THE CUTEST?

I could go on and on about the craziness of getting the church ready for the reception…but it is crazier than I should subject you too. ;) The best part of the prep was hanging out with my friends that I never get to hang out with. As nutty as we all felt, it was so much fun to be silly with those gals. It was also a blessing that we could give Sarah the best reception possible…to see her so happy. And damn, I’m proud of this cake table…

a collaborative effort by Jaimee, Tif, Jaye, me and Sonja. THAT just takes the cake. (hardy har har…)

There were the wickedly funny moments like when Dustin’s best man kept calling him “Justin” or when there were asses to be kicked by this MoH and I did just that or when Sarah danced provocatively with her new husband and her mother about fainted… “I’m married, Mom!” or when the lesbians and sinners showed up wondering if the church was going to actually fall ON them. It was an event filled with craziness and wonderfulness…and I’m so glad we all survived getting Sarah married. Love you, Girl...congratulations!

Someday I Will Post About Where I've Been and About Sarah's Wedding...

When I was probably 12 years old (or so) my sisters and I watched this made for TV movie called "In a Child's Name." It's one of those warm and fuzzy movies that makes you just want to watch it over and over again. You know, complete with boy meets girl...boy marries girl...boy beats girl to death with his free-weights which leaves blood all over the house so that when the police use the glow in the dark chemical stuff, the entire house GLOWS. And I don't mean a Light Bright, "WOW that's a cool little light" light. No...this movie had to take it to the next "glowing" level to give it that "real life" flare.

Did I mentioned the entire house GLOWED? Yeah...and that's just the first half of the movie.

I remember my mom coming out to the living room annoyed that we were still awake and told us to go to bed. This is of course after the last scene (of the first half of the movie) was the parents of the killer coming to stay at the house (where the bastard kills his wife) with the couples infant son that they're taking care of while their bastard of a son is in jail and on trial for the murder OF THE BABY'S MAMA. Well, good 'ol gramps and grannie get all ready to sleep in the room and when they turn off the lights the entire room GLOWS. Which means, of course, the blood was EVERYWHERE...F*R*E*A*K*Y*

So as my mom forced us to bed, we had visions of murderers in our heads. Falling right to sleep was not going to happen. Especially once my mom turned off the light and the glow in the dark frisbee that I got from who knows were started GLOWING in the distance. I can still remember how freaked out I was.

So as I'm flipping throught the channels tonight, I come accross this very same movie on one of the Lifetime channels...right at the part where the bastard beats his wife with the weights. I screamed and hurried to change the channel. And even if the scream was only in my head...go HEAVENS I could not watch that movie if I ever wanted to fall asleep tonight.

And foolish chicken that I am, as I am explaining the story to Alonso (and as he laughs at the glow in the dark frisbee) he says, "Yeah. And then after the granparents turn off all the lights they just happen to have a black-light turned on so that they can see all this supposed glowing, 'cause you need a black-light for it to glow."

Yeah...like a 12 year old would think of that. Hell...this 27 year old didn't think of that. NO MORE COURT TV FOR THAT MAN.

OOPS...She Did It Again!

I am working on a post to explain my blogging absence and what has been preventing me from the blogging world. As Sarah would say, I’ve been ALL KINDS of busy! However, I know that a MIL story is long overdue…and I will deliver:

Last night, I was making smoothies for the family. We are a smoothie loving family and have become experts at making them. My in-laws purchased this protein-powder stuff to add to our smoothies from The Costco. It sounds weird, but it’s actually good. The last time they purchased it, my father in-law grabbed the CHOCOLATE kind instead of VANILLA.

It’s amazing he’s allowed to breathe without permission after pulling a stunt like that.

MIL wasted no time getting all annoyed at FIL for grabbing the wrong flavor and made sure we knew that SHE. DID. NOT. DO. THIS. She would NEVER grab the wrong thing. EVER.

As I made smoothies last night, I grabbed the CHOCOLATE powder and mentioned to MIL how I like this flavor better. Much better. She agrees with me. Says that SHE LIKES THE CHOCOLATE FLAVOR BETTER, TOO!

Says, “It’s good that WE made the mistake and bought the “wrong” kind.”

And So To Bed...

Sarah's married, I'm pooped...I found out that a friend of mine has a famous sister...and apparently I send my children to Lesbian Boot Camp. It's been a busy couple of days.

I will give the juicy details...but I'm just too tired now. I'm going to got "watch" Finding Nemo with Abby. It will be so interesting this time around. Abby asked what happend to Nemo's mom and my answer of "she died" wasn't good enough. After the third or fourth time, I changed my answer and said, "she went to heaven." After pondering this answer for a minute Abby says,

"Did she get stuck?"

Everybody Wang Chung Tonight

To celebrate Paige’s birthday, she had a slumber party with three of her friends. To avoid the potential drama that almost always follows and eight year old’s slumber part, I wanted to have quite the itinerary for those girls to avoid any questionable happenings. I roped Sarah and Noelle into my evil scheme and planned the Extreme Makeover – Slumber Party Edition for that night. I have to say (insert tooting my own horn here) that the party was a huge success. Sarah did make-up (complete with beauty tips for each girl) while Noelle did nails (did you know that eight year old girls LOVE having their nails alternate colors?) and then I did hair. And the whole reason that I’m writing about this is to brag that one of the girls said, and I quote: “This is THE BEST SLUMBER PARTY I HAVE EVER BEEN TO!”

Yes, that’s right…I, like, threw the best, like, slumber EVAR! And dudes, we hadn’t even started the karaoke yet!

KARAOKE…probably the scariest and the most fun word there is. And that’s just the spelling of it. (Thank Bob for spell check.) I don’t think I could even begin to describe the decibel of squeal once the K-word was spoken. It was at that moment I knew that there would be a Hillary Duff or Cheetah Girls song stuck in my head for the next 3 days…because eight year old girls LOVE to do the same song over and over and over and over. It’s part of their charm.

But what really takes the cake (and boy can those midgets pound back the cake!) is when Paige pulls one of the magazines I’m in from the counter to show her friends my ad. (I keep all the “publications” handy just in case important company comes over. You know, like the Pope…Ralph Lauren…or that kid who plays Urkel.) She opens that magazine, points to my picture and tells her friends, “LOOK. It’s my MOM! SHE’S FAMOUS!”

And, well…far be it for me to crush the hopes and dreams of the birthday girl so I decided to play along. Of course, by playing along I mean that this “famous mom” worked her “famous” self to the bone putting on The Best Slumber Party EVER complete with pizza, root beer and Funfetti cake and slept in the living room to make sure all was okay. And by golly, it’s a good thing that nothing did happen…’cause I just slept right on through it all.

But see, what really is starting to bug me about the whole thing is that since I am SUCH a famous mom then why am I sitting at my desk, staring out at the river with not ONE of those fantastic boats cruising area being mine??

They must not realize that it is ME on the back of that bus they are following. Perhaps I should invite them to Paige’s NEXT slumber party. She’ll set them straight.

I Think This is Why Paige and I Have a Great Love For the Land That is Disney

I’m all out of cotton balls. A huge bag of cosmetic puffs…gone. This could have something to do with it:





Paige has become obsessed with cleaning her newly pierced ears with the Costco sized bottle of ear cleaner that you get from Claire’s Boutique. If there was any concern of whether or not she was responsible enough to get her ears pierced it is laughed at now. Paige puts the response AND the ability in Responsibility. Clean and turn. Clean and turn. She’s got it down. And she never forgets. She even carries the bottle and a (now depleted) supply of cotton balls around JUST IN CASE some disastrous, dirt filled something should even look at her ears.

Seriously, where did I get this child?

Eight years ago this week, I was on vacation with Alonso and his family in Southern California. I was EIGHT months pregnant traipsing around Knott’s Berry Farm, Disneyland and Universal Studios. I was HUGE. I was my own main attraction at each theme park we went to. People would stare. I would waddle. When I find the picture of me and Winnie the Pooh, I will post it. There is quite the debate about who is larger…and I was NOT wearing any type of costume or fat suit. Yes, the word you are thinking is WOW.

It was at that time that my love for Pirates of the Caribbean became GREAT as it was the ONLY ride that I could go on and it was my FIRST trip to Disneyland. It was also when my addiction to the Lemon Ice progressed to an obsession because THAT WAS ALL I WANTED because it was so blasted hot. Lucky for me you can get those little pieces of Heaven at EACH theme park we went to.

In the middle of the night before we were to head home, the-Little-Paigie-in-my-Tummy started a water balloon fight with me and woke me up. She felt appropriate that Southern California was to be her place of birth, even though her new home would be 600+ miles away AND SHE WAS NEARLY A MONTH EARLY!! It took me a little bit to wake The Dude (alonso. Alonso. ALONSO. ALONSO I THINK MY WATER JUST BROKE!!!) and then we woke the household so we could find a hospital to deliver this water balloon throwing child. Alonso’s cousins (who we were staying with) were all in a flutter and just could not understand how we could be so calm. Well, I’ll tell you why:

YOUNG and DUMB.

Ironically enough, my sister was staying mere miles away (while the rest of my family was THOUSANDS of miles away in Montana) from the hospital I was admitted to with her best friend and her family. She was able to hop on over to the hospital while I was in labor. And was even there to witness when I kicked everyone out of my room because my father in-law kept talking to me/asking me questions during contractions. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but contractions are a tad distracting. Especially Pitocin induced contractions which mean there are NO BREAKS. There really should be signs in hospitals that say, “Don’t talk to her while contractions are happening! It will just get you kicked out of the room!!”

Fourteen hours and a nearly empty room later, Paige Marie entered this world and started her mission of blessing everyone she comes in contact with. She was our little brown baby…my mom even called her “our little Egyptian Princess” the first time she saw her. The weird thing is that I don’t remember the exact moment she was born. I remember pretty much everything else (like, how freaked out Alonso cut the umbilical cord) except for her first moment in the world. Crazy, huh? Once everyone was permitted to enter back into the room, Alonso and Jaye were leaning over the baby container and Alonso was very concerned about all the “bruising” on Paige. Jaye leans forward to get a better look and says, “It’s HAIR, you Idiot!”

And on that Sunday evening, Alonso, Paige and I became a family of three. A very young family, just starting out together…but a family just the same. And in those moments, there were no worries of our families, of how we were going to do this, or even how were going to get home with this tiny newborn when home was hundreds of miles away. There was just Paige.

Paige was the miracle of life, the miracle of forgiveness and the miracle of love all wrapped up in a beautiful (brown baby) package. I couldn’t have asked for anything more amazingly wonderful…it was more than I’ll ever deserve. And yet here she was…and still is.

Happy Birthday, Paigie-Pooh…you truly are one in a million.

Love, Mommy

A History - Part 2

While Alonso’s cousins were in town, we gave Paige an option to get her ears pierced while they were here. If she made the decision NOT to get her ears pierced that day, the offer would be forfeited and the timelines for ear piercing would go back to 10 years of age.

Being the bright girl that she is, Paige jumped on that chance and RAN with it. (Wouldn’t you?)

When we arrived home that night, MIL was ECSTATIC with the new additions to Paige’s ears…and told her that NOW SHE WAS A REAL GIRL.

The mind reels that there would be more to this story after THAT, but there is.

After the above remark (and I did scold her for it) she was talking to other family members at the kitchen table. I was pulling incredibly HOT pizzas out of the oven, but overheard her make yet another comment that made me FLY OUT OF MY SKIN. She actually made the comment (in Spanish, so I had to confirm what she said with Alonso’s cousin later) that she broke the rule of Paige getting her ears pierced before 10 and would do it with Abby, too.

WHO SAYS THIS KIND OF SHIT??!! Even if you say it in Spanish (which I prefer not to) IT STILL MEANS THE SAME DAMN THING!!!

Not only was she so NOT involved in the decision making process WHATSOEVER (and still she takes full credit somehow) she also plans on INTENTIONALLY THWARTING ANY AND ALL RULES THAT ALONSO AND I SET FORTH???!!

Seriously, if ever anyone needed a STIFF DRINK…or a lovely cocktail of Crazy People Pills…yeah, that’s me.

JP & The MIL...A History

WARNING: I’m laying it ALL out on the table here. My aim is to throw in sarcasm and humor to add to the enjoyment of this history…because I’m a big fan of sarcasm and humor. Especially when dealing with MIL. There will be MUCH WRITING IN CAPS, BOLDS AND MAYBE EVEN ITALICS. You have been warned.

They say that history is written by whoever “wins” the battle, the war or, you know…who has the ability to actually write. Because of this, history sometimes is slanted because the views and opinions expressed by that winning party aren’t necessarily the facts of what really happened. So when I say that I’m winning the battle (not yet the war) with my in-laws, they have absolutely no clue. This history is written by the self-proclaimed winner…and, well, they have not clue how to even work a computer, let alone BLOG anything.

I first must give some background. I LOVE MY MIL. I really do. She honestly thinks she knows and does what’s best. That reason alone is why I don’t shove that tiny Mexican woman into Barbie’s dream house and find a way to lock her in there. FOREVER. Her partner in crime is my father in-law. (Can you write FIL? I am, now.) FIL is THE nicest man. He’s THE nicest man who will drive you TO ABSOLUTE MADNESS. It really is quite amazing that the two of them haven’t driven me to the pink or yellow pills. Gold star for…for someone. The past two to three weeks have been very eye opening for me. Not speaking to the MIL was not really key in winning the battles…but it sure helped my tactical plan. It helped if only for the fact that SHE KNEW I WAS PISSED.

SHE KNEW I MEANT WAR!

For eight (plus) years I’ve been trying to figure out how to deal with the dynamics of Alonso’s family. I haven’t even scratched the surface. However, what I do know with a certainty that CANNOT be denied is MIL thinks that HER WAY IS ALWAYS THE RIGHT WAY. (Insert warning: underlined word may also show up.) May I direct your attention to Marie Barone of “Everybody Love Raymond”…there are alarming similarities. In more ways than ONE. I will NEVER keep house, cook, raise my kids, or love her son LIKE SHE THINKS IT SHOULD BE DONE. I know she loves me…but I know that she can’t STAND me doing things my way. OH, MY BLOOD PRESSURE!! For example…

Story/Battle 1:
Alonso and I getting married. FIL & MIL disagree with the timeline of us getting married. Said they weren’t going to go to the wedding in efforts to prove their point. THEY CHOOSE OUR WEDDING TO START THE PROVING A POINT PROCESS! I am a stressed out mess and just can’t understand. They show up just as the wedding is to start. The FOCUS is all about them…how good they showed up. Comment is made by MIL how I should never forget this, what she's done for us. Forget how you totally just made my wedding day the biggest joke of the planet? Nope! I WILL NEVER FORGET THAT! I’m obviously still working on the forgiveness side of that story.
BATTLE RESULTS: They won. I did NOT read them their rights like I should have.

Story/Battle 2:
Young me, of nineteen or twenty, with a young Paigie-Baby…deciding that working full-time and trying to figure out the whole married and new mom life would not fit me MAKING all the baby food that Paige would be eating. Gerber does have a small market on baby food; I figured we’d be alright. MIL disagreed telling me making the baby food shows the baby more love. (See? Not enough love for the children.) In my passive/aggressive manner, I leave for work and then ask my mom to watch Paige that day because I just didn’t know what to do…I was so angry.
BATTLE RESULTS: I won, for proving my point…but she did make Paige food when I wasn’t there. Sneaky little Crazy that she is.

Story/Battle 3:
Fast forward to this past May. FIL & MIL take Paige to a family party…Alonso and I stay home with puking Abby. MIL comes home just beside herself and says: “You need to do something about Paige. She is so spoiled.” EXACT WORDS. Well, exact words in her broken English. I looked straight at her (and let me just mention my BLOOD PRESSURE once again) and said, “And you don’t think that you haven’t helped her become that way??!!” AND SHE ARGUED WITH ME! She DID NOT see that her and FIL giving these girls whatever they want RESULTED in those girls BEING SPOILED!!! It was at that (shocking) moment that I truly, truly realized that SHE. DOES. NOT. GET. IT. She truly does not see any responsibility she has.
BATTLE RESULTS: A draw. I spoke my mind and didn’t back down (good job me) but MIL doesn’t GET IT and FIL cannot stand to see those girls cry.

Last Story/Battle 4:
The last story I will share (today) was the straw the broke the camel’s back and the very reason I stopped speaking to MIL & FIL. (You know, inquiring minds want to know.) While getting dinner for my children, Paige started whining about wanting more parmesan cheese. This is a small, small thing, but I had had it up to HERE with Spoiled Children Syndrome (SCS) and denied her request for MORE parmesan cheese. MIL GAVE HER MORE CHEESE AFTER I HAD ALREADY SAID NO!!!! I looked at the two of them, was so angry I was seeing red and said to them, “I AM DONE.” And then I walked away fearing that I would take off my shoe and start beating the tiny Mexican woman. Those were the last words I spoke to her for over a week, unless she specifically asked me a question.
BATTLE RESULTS: I won. They knew I was pissed and walked on eggshells around me. When Abby asked for more juice, MIL told her to ask me if it was okay. WE’RE MAKING PROGRESS PEOPLE!!!

The WAR is not over by any means. My anger level is dangerously high even when even telling these stories and I’m learning how do deal with that. I have been growing a spine and really trying to move away from my passive/aggressive tendencies. I’m feeling more confident and am getting so much better at addressing problems as they happen. It is progression. We’re moving forward. I am moving forward. I need to share that.

I AM moving forward.

Agent Orange in My Back Yard

Ever heard ‘bout a little somethin’ called West Nile Virus? Huh…me either. But for SOME REASON, it would seem that folks ‘round these parts are thunkin’ that we gots to be mighty careful about them pesky ‘skeeters and their viruses.

Hence the airplane sized bottle of OFF® spraying guck all over the surrounding area last night. And it wasn’t so much an airplane sized bottle as it was an airplane flying all over and spraying the Mosquito’s version of Agent Orange all over the county and a little beyond.

And here I thought second-hand smoke was going to kill me!

This supposed “natural” substance is supposed to “naturally” kill off (or let’s say REDUCE) the bad, bad mosquito of the valley. Excuse me while I don’t believe them as I watch this third arm suddenly growing from between my shoulder blades.

I guess they were right about the fast acting part.

We're Gonna Party Like It's Your Birthday

While I don't have any pictures (yet) from Kaycee's wedding last night (she looked AMAZING!) I do have a special shout out to the birthday girl who will have her own special day in a matter of weeks.

So Happy, Happy Birthday Sarah Dear...love you bigger than the Beatles.

Move Over Carrie Bradshaw

I’m on the side of a bus. Several buses, actually. In a new ad campaign for my company. An ad campaign that appeared in local publications.

And sides of buses. (Not quite sure how I feel about the buses.)

Back in April, I was part of a photo shoot for said ad campaign. I tried to figure out a way to post the picture…but since it has my company’s name all over it and since there are actual model-type people that belong to some sort of model union, the lawsuit potential far outweighs my desire to post the picture. I will, however, Photoshop lawsuit bait from the picture and just post yours truly.



Words escape you, I’m sure.

The silly part of the whole story is that I never dreamed of being the only employee to be in this particular ad campaign. The CEO of our company envisioned “some of our own” being part of this process. I wanted to be like NoNo and Sarah and hopped onto the bandwagon and submitted a picture, thinking that it would be a group photo, or something like it.

Not so.

I have yet to see the elusive busses that carry my picture and I must admit that I’m not all that looking forward to seeing it. You see, I have this fear that I will happen upon the picture for the first time, and there will be devil horns or a mustache drawn on my face, much like in the episode of Sex & the City when Carrie (SJP) sees herself on a bus for the first time…with a mustache drawn on.

You can see why the fear is there. Well, you can see what a paranoid freak I am at any rate.

Welcome to My Vacation…Oh Wait, Never Mind…

Although I didn’t mean to, my vacation was filled with many days of NOT BLOGGING. A crying shame, if you ask me. I had SO MUCH to tell “all” of you…but alas, me coming back to work today to an INSANE task list and co-worker drama, I am forced to briefly recap the vacation. On when I say “vacation” please know that there was not much vacationing to be had. T’was only a break from work. Nothing more. But still, some of the highlights:

Not speaking to my mother in-law because she pissed me off. THAT was fun and only a little bit childish.

Welcoming Alonso’s family from Mexico here who stayed for the week. (They actually fly out today.) I am PLEASED as punch to say that my Spanish took on a life of its own and had FULL conversations with the family. None of those conversations were with my mother in-law.

(*Note: if MIL talked to me, I would answer her…however, I would not engage her in any type of conversation for 2+ days.)

Attending Alonso’s cousin’s wedding (the reason all the family was here) and MELTED, MELTED, MELTED during the outside ceremony with no covering at 11 in the morning. Sat at the same table as MIL during the reception and continued NOT to talk to her. I’m such a bitch. OH WAIT! No I’m not…

There were several family dinners, events, shopping trips, birthday parties, etc to be had and enjoyed by all. I actually took two mornings of running errands and completed a number of tasks in one morning that would have taken me several days during a regular work week. THAT was fabulous.

Starting and finishing Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. There was no crying…though I was caught of guard. Laundry and cleaning (of any kind) have resumed. Well, as much as the pre-HP6 days, anyway.

The-Only-Man-I’ll-Tolerate-In-Spandex won the Tour de France and I CHEERED. I followed the progress during the length of the Tour…and I’m just tickled...yellow.

Transformed into a nurse or whatever and endured nearly two days of Puking Abby. ‘Nuff said.

Began speaking to the MIL…and then stopped again. Dammit! Could she STOP PISSING ME OFF?

Sarah’s bridal shower…Luau style. SO fun…and I was good and only embarrassed Sarah a few times. I think I deserve a gold star for being so nice to her. But MONDO props to Rachel and Jaimee. They deserve seven gold stars for just being so dang awesome. AWESOME I say. OH! And a gold star for my dear mommy for helping out too…even after JUST getting home from a week of Scout Camp. What a trooper.

Lounged in and out of the pool this weekend…trying to mentally prepare myself for returning to work. I’m still working on that. Joined the late night bowling trip with Alonso and his cousins. TONS of fun…but dang, I’m tired.

All in all…a crazy but fun week filled with tons of family time. I came back to craziness at work…but that’s (my) life. Abby is healthy now that I’m back to work…but that’s (my) life. I have to pick up “someone” else’s slack here at work because they’re retarded…but that’s (my) life. I did speak to the MIL this morning (and was pleasant) but make no promises for future conversations. But yes, that is my life.

Listen You Muggles

This morning, Sarah left a “present” for me on my chair. I’m skeered. For if I venture into this latest installment of a certain wizarding world…life will end as I know it until the last page has been read and the book is closed.

*WARNING: There will be no clean laundry from pages 1 to 652. Dinners are negotiable. Absolutely. No. Clean. Bathrooms.

Ye have been warned.

Show Me The Money!!!!!

I love it when people make me laugh. Out loud. At the expense of Tom Idiot Cruise.

MY Reasons For Setting Off Metal Detectors

I’m wearing a binder clip on my pants today. This white-trash approach to keeping my drawstring-waist pants on my body is due to the fact that the drawstring (of my drawstring pants) broke this morning. I’m not going to talk about the weight I’ve put on in the past year or two (even thought that’s the first thought that crossed MY mind) because, folks, it is JUST NOT RELEVANT. How I prefer to think about this is that I just pull too damn hard on that blessed string because I have to cinch them up SO MUCH!

There will be no mocking. None.

“Dad, how can you hate THE COLONEL?”

I started out this week talking about the crack...or the cracks. Or that Kelly Clarkson is NOT on crack...something like that. I figure this week just wouldn't be complete without once again referencing drugs of the illegal status. Or really, that I think that my powdery, drug look-alike make-up has some sort of addictive chemical. And by addictive chemical I'm not talking about the one that The Colonel puts in his chicken that makes you crave it fortnightly. No. What I'm talking about is this. I'm addicted to it. I’m not joking.

Months ago, I happened upon an infomercial for this make-up. It was love at first sight, I guess...at any rate, I wanted it. I KNEW I would love it and that it would be a face and make-up match made in cosmetic heaven. But there was a problem. I don't make a habit of buying things from infomercials. I tried it once and just NEVER went back. True, that was for the TurboCooker and I should be punished for that very sin of a purchase...but let's not beat that dead horse again. I did not want to be burned by the infomercial again. Not now. Not like this.

Not too long after my first sight of the love of my make-up life, my friend Dina told me about that new make-up she just started wearing and just RAVED about finally finding a make-up that she loved and that she would use. What do you know...it was the same stuff. Fast forward to a few weeks later you have Dina, Pam and I all wearing (read: addicted) to this lovely new make up that is too cool for school. And to top that off, a few weeks after that, my mom and younger sister jump into the addiction, too.

The epidemic is spreading.

What I’ve finally concluded is that when these lovely people at bare escentuals® say their products are “all natural” I’m thinking they mean in the same way that marijuana is “all natural.” How else can you explain this addiction we have? It is a serious issue, people…a serious issue. The fact that the three of us will go shopping and say “hey, let’s buy this together and split it” and then we’re back at the other’s house “splitting” this powdery (albeit colorful) substance in what looks like a white collar, very suburban drug deal complete with the exchange of money. You know, payment for the goods! I just can’t, in good conscience, keep this to myself any longer.

Next thing you know, I’ll be makin’ phone calls to my peeps beggin’ for a kilo of Glee All Over Face Color.

Kelly Clarkson and the Problem With Crack

The whole point of summer school for Abby and Michael was to help Abby get acclimated before fall, as Michael will be off to Kindergarten. During that first week, I took my turn shuttling kids to and/or from school. On one of the mornings, Michael proceeded to tell me of the crack in the windshield of his dad’s car. Apparently there had been quite the discussion about windshields and cracks in them that morning…so it was fresh on his brain.

“My dad has a crack in his windshield.”

“He does? Bummer. So do I.”

“You do?”

“Yup! Right there.” (Me pointing it out to the 5 yr old…Abby blissfully ignoring all that we say.)

Once Michael was satisfied that I indeed did have a crack (in my windshield, people) he moved on to other subjects and we rocked out to Radio Disney. Well…there wasn’t a whole lot of “rockin’ out” but we did sing a long. However, several minutes passed and I have completely moved on from the windshield topic. I, now, am thinking about how Kelly Clarkson is the only American Idol who had done much of anything at all…and how she must’ve been burned by some dude with all these angry, girl power songs…and how odd it is that I’m no fan of said American Idol but that I have been known to belt out (and enjoy) good ol’ Kelly’s songs. During this moment of me thinking of stupid things and singing along with my friend Kelly, Michael interrupts my thoughts with:

“My Dad’s crack is bigger than yours.”

And because I will still lost in Kelly Clarkson Land and because I seriously did not expect anything like that to come from Michael’s mouth, I seriously went through several seconds of “what the heck did this kid just say to me????!” before remembering our discussion on windshields. And it was at that moment that I was grateful for being a procrastinator and NOT getting my windshield fixed…because dang it, WHO WOULD WANT TO MISS A MOMENT LIKE THIS!!!

**And I would just like to make it known that I did NOT include the title of yet another Kelly Clarkson song within that last sentence on purpose. I just didn’t.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Once again, I've become sick of the look of blog. Ironically I also got sick of the look of my hair. Both had to change.

Out with the old...on with the new.

I figured I love lighthouses...the lighthouses can share my blog with me. I also love chunky highlights. Those can share room on my head.

Ironic...


So...here's the new hair...a bit shorter with more highlights. And here's the new blog look. A bit cheesier with more lighthouses.

Trying Not To Blogger-Babble Like An Idiot

So I’m sitting her trying to forgive myself of my recent (and lengthy) Blogger-Babble. With pictures, no less. I keep NOT writing what’s on my mind because I’m just in so much of a funk. I’m just honestly so tired of it. I keep not writing about the funk because there are many people who read my blog that I see daily/weekly/monthly or I’ll talk to them on the phone and I just do not want to have a conversation about my funk. So here’s the rule: Those who see my regularly (you know who you are) Let me pretend when I see any of you that I do not have funk. Secretly (or not so secretly) you can know about it, I honestly don’t care if you do…I just have to make the rule of NOT TALKING ABOUT IT. I hate talking. There will BE NO TALKING!

But apparently it is all good that I blog about it.

I’ve come to the realization that I’m angry at a few things/issues in my life. I’m angry at myself…angry at other people…angry at situations that have come about. Angry that I always seem to pretend like nothing’s wrong. Angry that I can’t always stick up for myself or what’s important to me. Angry that everyone seems to know what it’s like to live my life when they’ve never done it. Angry at self-centered people and angry that I can be one of those people sometimes. I’m angry that I practically kill myself trying to make “everything” work when it turns out that nothing works. I’m angry that life isn’t fair OR easy. I’m angry that I just can’t make all of this go away.

I am disturbed by the fact that it really doesn’t matter how hard I try and plan, nothing seems to turn out like I wanted. It would seem that there are too many outside factors that get in the way. I feel ashamed for feeling so down in the dumps when there is so much hurt and pain in this world. (This would be the hating being self centered part.)

Focus, JP…and have faith…right? Somehow I knew you would say that…

This Week In Pictures

Move Over Emeril

Over the weekend, my mother in-law made ceviche...it is amazing. Abby was hell bent on "cooking" and being a part of the action. The problem was that she wanted to taste the raw fish SO badly. We put the fear of...well, raw fish in her and told her to stay clear of it...my MIL told her it was dangerous even. We were able to convince the Abster that slicing strawberries was the next best thing.

However when we tried to encourage the eating of strawberries, she informed us that no, she would not...because they were dangerous.

The good news is she got over that and even was able to help with the ceviche as wanted.

Paige in 'TAH

While I have regular Pitty Parties about not being a part of the "Tah" gang...Paige is having a wonderful time out there. On Monday, the went hiking...to snow:

(I acually have no idea where they are, though.)

And then went four-wheeling all over the place:

I'm still trying not to be jealous of my almost 8 year old. Okay, that's a lie...I'd give my left arm to have her skin, but whatever.

4th of July

Abby, Alonso and I spent a nice 4th with family and then with friends. In our usual fashion, we split our time between the two. Alonso and Abby swam while I "chilled" at Alonso's aunt and uncle's house and then we headed over to my friend Pam's house where I seemed to lazily go from chair to chair to chair...not giving a hoot that I was being such a...lounger? That doesn't seem to be the right word...

I guess I figure I'm kinda "blah" this week...and really, the pictures say it better than I do. And let's be honest...I was the photographer in most of these...that's not saying a whole lot for my blogging abilities. Shame.

I'm Starting Them Early

My Little Future-Blogger:

Blogger Hates Me...Let's See If This Will Post:

I haven’t written in ages. It feels like ages. I just worry that if I write there will be much complaining…much “woe is me”…much sighing. Well, at least if there is much sighing, you won’t know. I’ve just felt so “broken” the past couple of weeks. Like all the things I’ve been juggling are now laying at me feet. Like all the things I was sure of, I’m just not so sure anymore.

Then there’s the fact that my entire family is in Utah. (Or as Abby likes to call it: Tah.) Paige made the trek out there with my parents, Jess and her kids, Jaye and Corbin-Baby, and my brothers. Not to mention my Gram and Great-Gram. They’re all out there having a grand ol’ time without me. I am bummed. I am very much “woe is me” about the whole thing. I feel so sad that as of tomorrow, Jess will be on her way back home to Montana….and I missed out on all the fun of Tah and hanging out with my Aunt and her family. Wah wah wah.

Yes…I’m in accounting. June 30th was our fiscal year-end. I would’ve been laughed at if I had even had the audacity to ask for the time off. Of course I didn’t even ask…because I know my job and know my responsibilities. Of course if “someone” asks me another lame-ass question, I may have to get all Kung-Foo on his ass.

There have been good parts of this week, though. I cashed in on concert tickets owed to me by one of the local radio stations and now officially have Green Day tickets for September. Sure I was expecting to have tickets for the show IN MY OWN TOWN…but have now figured the two hour drive away will give me the excuse to make Alonso take me away for the weekend….maybe. I also might convince Alice to join us for dinner…and that just will make the whole thing fabulous.

I’ve also had a lot of fun this week with Abby. She misses her sister…but that girl has enjoyed having her parents to herself. Once I get a spare minute, I’ll have to post the pictures of her “cooking” and of 4th of July…she’s hilarious.

Oddly enough, though…what I’m most looking forward to is my hair appointment tonight. Sarah and I will drive out there together…which will just be what the doctor ordered. Well…that and having someone “play” with my hair for a couple hours just makes this whole week bearable.

Day 2

This morning Abby gave me so many hugs and kisses while I was getting her ready for school. This morning Abby was so helpful in our morning routine and even took a bath without too much resistance. This morning Abby looked SO CUTE carrying her backpack and her lunch box with her snack as she walked out the door. This morning Mary drove Abby and Michael to preschool and I drove straight to work.

This morning I'm still wondering why I'm so sad that she's so grown up.

5 Generation Continued...

So...I had to get "permission" to post the most recent 5 generation picture. Just so I didn't piss anyone's husbands off. ;)

Here is the latest and greatest...aren't we cool???

The Second Post Where You're Sorry I've Now Learned How To Post Pictures

Up until recently, I’ve felt very comfortable with my age and where I was in life. Sure, there are goals I haven’t accomplished yet and there are aspects of my life I thought would be different…but I was content with the timeline of my life for the most part. There have been a couple of things in the past week that have made me take a hard look at where I am in life. My confidence had been shaken and I questioned much…but I knew what I had to do and am working toward that.

And then Abby had to get all big and all and start preschool today. The little troll.

I made the decision months ago that Abby would do two sessions of preschool this summer before starting officially in the fall to make her transition a bit easier. What I did not realize was how hard it would for me to make that transition and let her be “grown” today on her first day of school.

I know it sounds lame…but this is my BABY…the caboose of our family. I am not having any more kids and Abby has grown up so fast. She was grown when she was born, practically. But I think the fact that she’s actually in school now really pushed me over the edge. I cried half the way back to the office…with no tissues in the car!!

I’m such a boob.

I just feel like with the three years of her life that has already passed, I’m going to blink my eyes and she’ll be leaving for college. And then I’ll blink again and she’ll be married. My little Monkey-Child…all growed up. I’m all emotional about it, damn it!

So, Happy First Day of School, Abby…slow down on the growing up, would ya?

We Are Family

Jess and I were pregnant at the same time with our first children. Maddie was born in March...Paige in August. Not only did this bring the first and second grandchild to my parents, it also brought our family to have 5 generations.

Gram J begat Gram K who begat Jim who begat JP, who begat Paige and Abby. There is much begatting.

I love that my children will have memories of their Great Grandma K (who was THE grandmother, I'll have you know) and their Great-Great Grandma J (who is just as cool.) Not many people can show your their five generation picture...well, except for Jess...and Jaye...yeah, and my cousin Stacy. But whatever...it's still wicked cool.

*I would also like to point out that Blogger is wicked cool for making it easier to post pictures for the complete IDIOTS like myself who couldn't get it to work before.

Props to Blogger. Amen.

Root, Root, Root for the Home Team

There must be a special place in hell for people that volunteer their co-workers to play in a company sponsored Softball game. Now if I could only figure out who done it…and I continue to wonder if Jess will kill me for roping her into playing too. It IS for charity and I DO get a shirt out the deal, but folks, I really have no athletic ability whatsoever.

You must be shocked.

I haven’t swung a bat in years…I’ve only played catch with my dad once in the past 10 years, or so…and I run like a girl.

Tomorrow I will be “taking one for the team.” Literally.

Seriously...

is he on the crack?

The Big Green Ugly Monsters

Today Alonso and I got in a fight about money. The funny thing is that the fight turned out to not be about money at all. The fight turned into a frustrated mess of “other” things that had been lurking under the surface. I think that when you have the crazy life that Alonso and I do, there is this big ugly monster called Resentment that can sneak into your marriage, if you’re not careful.

It would appear that we have not been being careful.

Mr. Resentment showed up this morning during the “discussion” of money and scheduling issues. Mr. R also brought along Mr. Guilt, Ms. Stressed and Mr. & Mrs. Just-Plain-Tired. They didn’t help in the LEAST. Alonso and I just didn’t have the energy to battle this group of tyrants…we were just so darn frustrated at the whole situation.

I wish that I could report that everything is resolved and rosy and wonderful. That is what is hard about being married, having kids and a crazy life. Time does not stand still so that you can resolve an issue before running out the door to work, or school or driving Paige to Soccer Camp or running a couple of errands, etc. (Yes, that is an example of this morning.) Time still keeps on moving and any issues to be dealt with are still being dealt with…and probably won’t get resolved until tonight when we’re home. But that is after swim lessons, last minute appointments and a full day of work. But don’t forget the evening routine of dinner, baths, activities, etc. Don’t forget that there is still a load (or three) of laundry needing to be folded that won’t fold itself. Don’t forget that Abby pulled all her clothes out of her dresser and they need to be put back. (Might as well take out the few winter clothes still hanging around…I don’t THINK it’s going to act like winter any more this June.) Not to mention the toys, books and markers she pulled out too….the little Troll.

When midnight rolls around and I am finally climbing into bed, barely able to keep my eyes open (Mr. & Mrs. Just-Plain-Tired are BRUTAL) Mr. Guilt creeps over and makes me feel bad about the times I was frustrated with my children and my husband…about all the times I didn’t stop to play with my kids because I had to finish “just one more thing” before I could stop. He makes me think about all the time and energy I put into my job so that I can support my family only to be tired and cranky when I get home sometimes. Mr. Guilt makes me feel like such a witch that I ever allowed Mr. Resentment into my home.

But as I write this is hits me. I’m allowing that group of tyrants to plague my life making no room for what’s really important. I am constantly battling them, when they shouldn’t even be there in the first place. I realize that what is most important in my life is missing because He’s not going to compete with tyrants…or with me.

I Should Just Get Used to Everything Being My Fault

Paige came up to me yesterday (amid the chaos of getting dinner on the table for our Father’s Day Feast) and blamed ME for breaking one of her softball trophies. True, I was the one to put the dang trophy on her shelf in her closet and I was also the one to put her “suitcase” of doll stuff next to it…but I never expected to be blamed when SHE pulled the suitcase down (without asking for help) and knocked her trophy off the shelf where it BROKE.

So as I’m trying to get dinner on the table for my 20 DINNER GUESTS and my first born blames me for breaking her trophy, it is no wonder that I looked her straight in the eye and said, “Paige. Please walk away from me right now. JUST. WALK. AWAY.”

A Little Off-Kilter

I am a sucker for Post-It notes. There is a love for Post-Its that just can’t be described or duplicated. The wonder that is the Post-It allows me to write a note, or phone number or instructions and STICK IT to any surface of my choosing. Be that surface my computer screen, a page in my planner, my children’s forehead, my desk or even the wall, they save me from my own bad memory.

This morning I went to the store for a picture frame for Paige’s teacher’s end of the school year gift. On my way to the check-out line, I happened to walk down the office supply aisle and the beauty of the 2x2” fluorescent cube of Post-Its caught my eye. You would be correct to assume that I bought those suckers as I just have never seen that size. (I am a slave to marketing…what can I say?) When I opened the package at work, I realized that what I had purchased was NOT the Post-Its I love and adore.

My first thought was “What the hell are Z-Notes?!” The second being “How the hell did I let this happen?”

Everything is NOT right with the world. It is RAINING here (it’s JUNE 16, Mother Nature!!!) and I bought Post-It wannabe’s willingly, albeit unknowingly!!!

I need a V-8….or a milkshake. Whatever.

The Extremely LONG Post Where Someone Winds Up With Stitches

I fully expected this last weekend to be crazy. But the craziness that ensued was more than I had bargained for. It was filled to the brim with various activities with a few minor setbacks for us to deal with.

And by minor, I mean AN EMERGENCY ROOM VISIT AND SIX STITCHES.

This weekend marked the end of softball season for Paige. Their team has been undefeated (until Thursday’s game) and was the #1 team heading into the Championship Game for their division. Early Saturday morning, Paige and her team of Orange Tigers (original, I know) played an extremely intense game. My in-laws were there, Jess and the kids were there, plus some friends of the family joined us as well. When the last inning came around, our team was only up by one point. Something that could change in an instant. I honestly thought Alonso was going to have a heart attack. I knew that he would be devastated if the girls didn’t win.

Yes, I said ALONSO would be devastated…NOT PAIGE.

In a valiant effort by the Orange Tigers (and our kick-ass, seven-year old pitcher) Alonso’s life was spared as they kept their 4-3 lead and won the game AND the championship! It was exciting for all…except for Abby who was SO DONE with any and all softball hoopla. Well, that is until they brought out the jumpy houses. All was right with the world at that point.

Once the closing ceremony festivities had come to an end…for our family, Abby and I headed home to where we would prepare for our dinner guests: Paige’s teacher and her husband. While MIL and I are in the kitchen preparing food, Alonso RUSHES in from working out on the lawn looking like he’s holding something in his hand yelling at us to move out of the way as he heads to the sink. What he’s holding is his FINGER THAT HAS A HUGE CHUNK NEARLY TAKEN OFF OF IT!

Now, at this point I’m scared that something went completely wrong with the lawn mower and his wound is worse than I can see at that point.

Not so.

True, his wound was worse than I originally thought…but the injury did not stem from a battle with the lawn mower. Moreover, the lawn mower had been put away and wasn’t even around to get blamed. To be perfectly honest (at my husband’s expense) it was during the sweeping of the lawn clippings off the driveway that started all the trouble. For in “mid-sweep” the aluminum handled broom broke in half and basically “bit” his hand as it broke.

Needless to say, we headed to the hospital to spend four hours in the Emergency Room and ended up with the six stitches on his left ring finger. Pissed as all hell (since he can’t play guitar for 10 days, he was bit by a broom, etc.) Alonso says to me, “It’s a good thing those girls won the championship today…otherwise this entire day would’ve SUCKED.”

Fashion Forward or Just a Batman Wannabe?

Today I am wearing a black sweater tied around my shoulders. I thought it was cute...professional, preppy and trendy, MAYBE. I thought it was a good choice to go with my black slacks and pistachio colored top. I actually felt good about what I was wearing.

Yeah...my co-worker just walked over and yelled: "Hey! JP's wearing a cape!"

Good Idea/Bad Idea (Starring: Abby)

Good Idea:

Hanging out with mom in the morning while she gets ready. Make-up is being applied, good times are had by all, it's a mommy and Abby moment.

Bad Idea:

Blow on my fairly expensive, powder like make up and make it go all over just because you like to see it up in the air.

I will remember this when you want to drive my car to the mall, Kid.

My Favorite Thing Overheard While Hanging Out With My Family Last Weekend:

(Jaye to Jamesson:)

"Simmer down, Band Geek!"

A Few Things You Just Might Not Know About Me

I have a marquee cut engagement/wedding ring because the sales person told Hubby that it was the “football shaped” diamond. I had no preference to the shape of the diamond, just the style of the setting. Both of us won.

I LOVE cheesy movie classics and musicals. LOVE THEM. However, I also LOVE many action flicks and “shoot ‘em up” movies. I’m a well-rounded gal. (In more ways than one, lately.)

I become easily bored with my Blog “LOOK” and constantly want to change it. After all the time and effort I spent on the current look and actually learning some of that html crap…it’s just not “doing it” for me anymore. It’s back to the drawing-I mean BLOGGING board.

I am a not so secret Star Wars GEEK and can quote the original three movies incessantly. I haven’t had the chance to see Episode Three yet…but that’s only because my crazy life gets in the way.

I have Padme Amidalla, R2-D2, Princess Leia, Obi-Wan and Boba Fett sitting on my computer monitor at work. How juvenile is that??? (Don’t answer that.)

I am an accountant. Have I ever mentioned that? I’m not a geeky accountant by any means. We actually have to coolest accounting department ever here at my company. Well, we just do.

I am a closet Sex & the City watcher and watch the TBS modified re-runs weekly, if possible. I say “closet” watcher because it’s just so cliché that an almost 30 year old would be addicted to that show. But it drives my husband crazy…and that’s reason enough to watch it right there.

I nearly got a boss of mine fired. Not for anything that I did wrong, but for standing up for me and my co-worker (who I adore) because she was going to quit because of said boss. The boss was “reassigned” and now all is well. I think. I mean, she doesn't speak to us and our tires were "mysteriously" slashed but I think we are making huge progress.

My husband does not really know about all that I write on my blog. He knows I have one, but just hasn’t had the chance to really “focus” on my blog. Weird, huh? Does this mean we’re not a good married couple?

I’m sick of calling my husband “Hubby.” It’s just so flippin’ cheesy. His name is Alonso. Take THAT internet.

Rebecca and my parents have the same first names. Both of them. And our mom’s names are not really all that common. Isn’t that funny?

I want a tattoo and a boob job. Okay, the latter of the two is no big secret, and I doubt I’ll ever get either…but they’re both in the back of my mind for future reference. If anyone should want to donate to the Bad-Ass JP Campaign…I'm working on ways to make it tax deductible

I’m not Super-Mom Very Often…So When I Am, I Blog About It

Sometimes a little pat on the back for yourself if just what the doctor (read: psychiatrist or therapist) ordered. My daily routine is in constant, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants motion with barely enough time to breath. I use a planner to keep track of the insanity and let’s be honest, if it’s not written down it never happened or is never going to happen. Nearly every day my task list exceeds the allotted amount of lines for my daily pages. Throw in Paige and Hubby’s schedule to keep track of and each daily page looks like an ink war of sorts. This is just my reality. Today is no exception to the pure chaos rule. I just have to take a moment to point out how kick-ass I was today.

My short-comings are many…let me have my moment of mommy kicking-ass glory.

Today I needed to be in 3 places at once…and all on my lunch hour. I had a pre-school “graduation” for one of my nearest and dearest, a student talent show for Paige and I also had to go to the bank for Hubby.

I made it on perfect time for ALL THREE. I even checked Paige out of school as soon as she had performed (her and her friend doing a dance routing to “Kids in America”…priceless) and then took her home. I must admit it was a bit more than an actual lunch hour…okay, okay…it was and hour and a half! BUT STILL. I made it to all three destinations and have pictures and video to prove it.

Well, no pictures of the bank…but I have the extra special bank slip to prove that one.

My Not-So-Super Powers

I think I may be having a hard time letting go of my “position” in Sarah’s life now that Dustin is, you know, gonna be the husband and all. (Even if she did gaze at the top of my head this morning at my desk and pointed out how many gray hairs I have.) Best friend of 20 years IS amazing and wonderful and special…but a girl just can’t compete with the husband to be.

Unless you are JP and then all bets are off.

Yesterday, while getting into the front passenger seat of Sarah’s car (and moving all the crap out of my way) I complained about the things that were on MY seat. To which Sarah replied, “Dustin, I’m sure, would differ with that point of view of it being YOUR seat.”

Bring it on, Nancy.

So today, as Sarah is on the phone with Dustin and is informing him of me challenging his ownership to the front seat, it is clear that I have my work cut out for me. But I can take it. The battle has begun.

“Be careful, JP…he has cat-like reflexes.” Says Sarah

“It is Dustin that should be careful as I have secret weapons!”

“JP, your boobs are not exactly secret weapons.”

“Sarah, I beg to differ. My boobs are QUITE the secret…they’re even a secret from me!!!”

Let the Wookie Win

If you take up so much of my time all week (asking me questions that you’ve already asked SO MANY times since I began training you) and when I tell you I’ll be a little late getting something BACK to you and you tell me I owe you a free coffee if I miss the deadline? I MAY spit on you.

It’s My Party and I’ll Cry if I Want To

So unless you’ve been living under a blogger’s rock, you all know that Sarah Marinara is getting married.

And you are all invited.

Okay, maybe not all of you…but I could just picture Sarah reading this post and falling of her chair…and then throwing something my way. Something heavy…full of force…aimed straight for my head. She’ll be careful to not kill me though as I not only am her Maid of Honor, I am also her (self-appointed) Wedding Coordinator.

I have ½ very supportive and very giving reasons why I would appoint myself to help plan her wedding and the other ½ very selfish reasons for accepting (okay, taking) the job. The good reasons are that I love Sarah dearly and have for 20+ years. It is my duty to see that she has a magical wedding. The selfish reasons all center around the fact that I did not have a magical wedding and really, I planned very little of it. And while this post is not the time to list every dramatic detail of my wedding (which include sour mother in-law, in-laws almost not attending, sour mother-in law, etc) the mention of the drama had to commence. If only for the reason to explain why I carry around a clip board, a headset, several copies of BRIDE magazine and why I’ve made Sarah cry on more than one occasion.

Let’s face it, I’m no Jennifer Lopez. (From "The Wedding Planner", that is. Although, in real life J Lo has planned a wedding or...six.)

But let’s also face the fact the my clip board is really my kick-ass Franklin Planner. My headset? Just my regular old cell phone. Instead of BRIDE mags, I’ve surfed so many wedding websites it’s scary. And, unless she’s lying, the making of Sarah cry was only due to the fact that she was so grateful and relieved that I was helping.

I just hope she’s still grateful when the Miss Bossy-Pants JP shows up…JP Bossy Pants can be SCARY.

Am I going mad, or did the word 'think' just escape your lips?

I’ve decided that I’m on of the most self-concious people I know. Now…having said that it would appear that I’m also the most self-centered people I know.


Man, I hope not.

All of my life I have put pressure on myself to be the best I can be with a certain level of perfectionism thrown in there. My semi-demented motto is: “If I can’t do it perfect, I’m not gonna do it at all!” It’s a sickness…it’s annoying…and I think I must bug the living hell out of my nearest and dearest.

Last Saturday, I had the RARE trip to the mall BY MYSELF and I gave Miss Marinara a jingle to see if she wanted to join me. Not only is she a blast to hang around…I had selfish motives in that I needed someone to shop with. NEEDED someone to tell me that what I was picking out was actually okay for me to wear. NEEDED someone to even help me pick out clothes to even try on. NEEDED someone to actually walk into Forever21 with me because I just do not seem to belong in that store but had a gift card to spend. I MADE Sarah go into the dressing room with me because I JUST COULD NOT HANDLE THE PRESSURE!!! And then I made her go to Old Navy with me, too! I just could not manage the responsibility of actually picking out my own clothes.

Does this make me co-dependent? Helpless? A fashion misfit? Do I fit into my own special category because I am THAT self-centered???

Although, truth be told, I'm sure I was imensely entertaining for Sarah to watch me trying to figure out how to even put some of those darn tops on. I nearly choked myself to death. Twice. With the same shirt.

God Bless America

I was away from a computer all weekend, but decided that it was better to post this late rather than never. In honor of Memorial Day, I wanted to list some freedoms that I enjoy on a daily basis thanks to this beautiful (yet wacky) country we live in and the armed forces that have protected all of us and these freedoms.

Freedoms I enjoy and can’t live without:

I can worship and believe in the religion I choose. I can openly have my faith in God without the fear of being tortured or killed.

I married the man of my choosing and could decide how many children we would have together.

As I have two little girls, I’m so grateful that there isn’t a government, hoping for more boys, applying pressures to my family to abandon those beautiful little girls in hopes that the next time I conceive it will be a boy. Words cannot express the thankfulness in my heart that my daughters won’t be forced from abandonment to prostitution at an age as early as six.

I don’t have to cover my face when I walk out of the house. I can look a man in his eye and tell him to eat dirt if he’s being an ass without fearing for my life or fearing a severe beating.

I can vote in any election and do so proudly with much patriotism. No matter what people say, my vote does matter. One person CAN make a difference.

I can have my own opinions. I am free to make my own choices and learn for myself what is right or what is wrong. I have NO ONE telling me what to believe or say and do. Least of all, my government.

I have hope for better things in life. I have the opportunity to change that which does not appeal to me. I am not oppressed to a live of demeaning routines.

I am educated and have every opportunity to further that education. It is not wrong for me, as a woman, to have thoughts and opinions and learn us much as I want.

I am so grateful that when I walk the streets of my home town with my family, I live with constant dread that the gunfire I hear in the distance will close in on me and my family. While crime is a terrible reality, constant wartime is not.

I own my own car and can use it at my disposal/as my budget may allow.

I can listen to any radio channel and watch any TV channel of my liking. I have hundreds of choices and my government doesn’t own the networks and what is shown.

I can blog openly about my feelings and beliefs and my government honors my freedom of speech.

I’m grateful that because I live in a country where (most) people believe in these freedoms that much is done to preserve these freedoms. It is because of said preservations that none of us speak German today, that we can walk our streets freely, that we can have the rights to choose, that we are not held politically captive by any one individual that can rule and dictate our every actions.

I love this country and the freedoms we all enjoy everyday. I’m so grateful for those that have fought to preserve these freedoms. Those like my grandfather who fought bravely during WWII and then liberated concentration camps after. I am so proud to honor those men and women.

Happy Memorial Day!

Maybe She’s Born With It…Maybe It’s Mabeline?

For my birthday last month, Sarah’s present to me was a sweet haircut and “chunky” highlights. I love it. It is totally me. It’s the haircut I should’ve always had. Funny, though…that the past two days I’ve gotten so many compliments on my hair. However, the past two days have also been days that I’ve worn lipstick, which I don’t normally wear. This turn in event poses a few questions:

1. Do I normally look like crap?
2. Does lipstick complete my look and therefore makes my hair look great/better?
3. Do I normally look like crap?
4. Does my hair like the warmer weather we’ve been having?
5. Have I been blow-drying my hair differently?
6. Do I normally look like crap??

Maybe I don’t want to know some of those answers. I don’t consider myself overly vain, but I do have this unhealthy fear of looking like a freak. But that probably goes back to my complete lack of style as a youngster and the fear of regression I have now more than anything else.

So…I know I wasn’t born with “it”…but could “IT” actually be THE LIPSTICK???

All Grow'd Up

I know I’m a “younger” mom by today’s standards…but my kids just made me feel like I was the child and they were grown.

On the way home from school, Michael (my friend’s son who’s also part of our two-kid carpool) kept pushing on my seat with his feet. This is one of my pet-peeves. I am tall. I have unusually long legs. My seat sits all the way back. Kids LOVE to push on my seat. I HATE to feel their feet in my back. After explaining to Michael how because I’m tall, my seat sits so far back and how it’s uncomfortable for me to have feet pushing on my back, he asks how old I am. (Not sure how this ties it all together…but he’s five, there are still so many mysteries.)

Paige says, “Michael, she’s 26-no wait! She’s 27! I swear, she was JUST 26 and then, like, it feels like a week has past and now she’s 27!”

And here I was worried about her growing up too fast…

Not a Girl...Not Yet a Woman

It was all new to me. As we maneuvered our way around the parking lot, I was a bit apprehensive of what and how it would all happen. I couldn’t help the twinge of excitement. Everyone always talks about how great it is but how it’s not what you expect at all. Would my first time be amazing or mediocre? I had high expectations with all the talk people do. Was I setting myself up for disappointment? Finally we parked, and it was time. I took off my seatbelt and both of us knew what would happen next…we got out of the car and walked towards the department store KOHLS.

“I love the KOHLS”
“I’ve never been to KOHLS.”
“Really?”
“Nope.”
“You mean, you’re a KOHLS virgin?”
“Indeed I am.”
"So basically, I'm popping your KOHLS cherry?"

It was not as I expected. But maybe I didn’t know what to expect so all of it could’ve been a surprise. It was new territory for me. I found it liberating. The Flip-Flop section was a bit awkward. I just couldn’t make it work for me. I don’t normally wear the flip-flops, so I honestly was glad to be done with that part. But the purse section. OH THE PURSE SECTION! I was giddy. I was more than giddy. We even talked about matching wallets since both of ours were STOLEN! It was magical…and they were HOT PINK, no less! HOT PINK! The euphoria I felt just could not be described. I couldn’t imagine this experience could get any more wonderful! But oh, the surprises that awaited me when we moved on to the CLOTHES! The embroidered skirts. The cropped work pants. The poncho that makes ponchos OKAY! I was with an experienced KOHLS shopper…and oh, how that worked in my favor! The dampening moment came when I remembered that I had no wallet, no money…no credit card to BUY THE GOODNESS AND PLEASURE that is PURSES and CLOTHES…and FLIP-FLOPS, if you’re Sarah! Those bastards that stole my purse CHEAPENED MY FIRST TIME!

As Sarah and I left, the door gave me one more wound to the amazing first time I was to have…

“Thanks for letting the door slam in my face!”
“JP, you should be used to this. I got what I wanted and now I'm just gonna roll off you and go to sleep."

Only Because NOW, IT IS FUNNY!!

I'm posting this grumpy thing even though the day DID get a bit better once I got home. My friend Mary and my MIL (funny, huh?) made the day bearable. My husband actually didn't really have anything planned but we did end up going out to dinner. I've decided that I'm "celebrating" by birthday on Tuesday. However, the actual day of my birth really did stink...but thank heavens that now it is FUNNY. Which is why I post this:

27 years ago today, I joined the small family of three and made it a family of four. Today has not been the most fun I’ve ever had. I would be annoyed with today even if it hadn’t been my birthday…but it is my birthday and that alone makes it THAT MUCH MORE ANNOYING! It started off with a project I’ve been working on going absolutely haywire. Not because I didn’t have it together…but because an outside company basically thwarted all my plans. This is a project I’m in charge of. I’m sure that my superiors understand that the problems were completely out of my control…but it still makes for a frustrating morning…and complicate the back to back meetings I had before lunch. So…because I feel the need to share pretty much everything with the Internet…here’s how my day continued:

Excerpt from an e-mail to Sarah:

I was seriously about to fall apart if Pam hadn't just come over andsave me from it...Even though people don't have mal intent...sometimes you just feellike why bother?!

Hardly anyone showed up for cake
I cut HUGE pieces 'cause no one was there... (*b-days are usually a big deal in our department.)

Wanted to give some to RR, GM and MI, who were in a meeting...well, ML and EH were there, too. I ended up CUTTING MY PIECE IN 1/2 SO THERE WOULD BE ENOUGH...FOR EH!!!! (**Side note: EH is NOT my favorite person…the other people I adore.)

Everything keeps "NOT WORKING" today...especially with our upgrade

My husband has planned NOTHING for tonight (of course, that I know of)

I had planned on leaving early...but now I'm leaving early to pick Paige up and do the "mom thing" instead of enjoying myself (for only an hour…but still)
Seriously...on the verge of tears...and I feel RIDICULOUS. It is JUSTmy birthday!!

So after all that, Sarah brings me a bouquet of balloons and tells me to read the card that says:

“Wish I could be there…Jess”

So here I am, at my completely decorated desk…on my birthday…weeping openly because of my annoying birthday and missing my sister so much.

Oh, did I mention that my parents are in Canada and not here for my birthday too???

I feel like I am turning 10 and not 27. I miss my mom and dad. I miss my sister. I got totally punk’d with my own birthday cake and no one showing up for the “event.” My husband is acting like it’s just another day. My kids didn’t even wish me a happy birthday this morning. And now I feel like a total whiner…

I’m hoping that Day 2 of being 27 is better…

I'm happy (?) to report that my site (as well as Jess', Suzie's, Carly's and others) has been blocked here at my office from viewing. Not only has it been blocked, but it has been blocked AS PORN.

So, not only is my site taking a turn at being classified as PORN (like I gave Sarah such a hard time about when it happened to her site) but I am INTRIGUED that all of the above is blocked as PORN and yet Dooce and Kaycee have escaped the radar of the Porn-Meter. I'm not saying that those sites SHOULD BE classified as PORN. Not in the least. However, those two sites (THAT I LOVE AND WHO I AM NOT PICKING ON) mention topics (or pictures of cleavage...whatever) that, you would think, be tracked on the Porn-Meter before my nice posts about my sister...or my kids...and about snowflakes and kittens and butterflies like you find on my post.

It is truly a conspiracy.

What is also a conspiracy is my Mother in-law. Okay, so maybe she’s not an actual CONSPIRACY as she is conspiring against me. Both are equally horrifying on the most stressful week I’ve had in a LONG time.

What I haven’t shared with you, Internet, is this: Tomorrow Abby will be baptized (in the Catholic church) and yes, she just turned three years old. Say what you will about how old she is…or about the baptism in general, but it is important to my husband, and so here we go. What I’m also going to tell you, Internet, is that it is even MORE important to my MIL who is all about tradition and all about telling me how everything that is wrong with my child is because she’s not baptized.

But let’s not travel down that road today.

What I don’t have to tell you, Internet, is that this is not my tradition or even my idea. I am happy to make this all happen because it is so important to Hubby (not because it’s important to MIL) but it really isn’t my deal and I don’t know a whole lot about it. I know the basics…but that’s pretty much it. I’ve been MORE than accomidating and have worked my tail off to make things happen. Oh, and have I not told you about how we’re celebrating the baptism and the third birthday at the same time? You’re right, Internet…I’m totally askin’ for it.


You know, someday I will go into how my MIL critized the bookmarks I made for the baptism favors that I thought were fairly wonderful. Or someday I’ll go into how the translation I did of the “verbage” on the bookmarks just did not cut it and the scripture I included wasn’t translated correctly, even though Hubby says they’re totally fine and cool. Someday I’ll go into the fact that MIL looked at these bookmarks BEFORE I printed them out and had nothing to say about them until AFTER they were all printed, cut out, punches, and ribbons tied on them.

But I won’t do that today.

I won’t do that today because now that I’ve had one of the most stressful weeks, I’ve had an even more stressful day here at work and now I have to go home and finish all of this prep work and (I’m sure) be criticized for everything I’m not doing or that I’m not doing up to code.

What I will tell you is that I COULD NOT have made it through this week without Abby’s Godmother, Mary, and her Fairy Godmother, Sarah Marinara. Could that child get any luckier? Not with the most BEAUTIFUL baptism dress I have ever seen…for a three year old and with the Dora Jumpy House that will be set up first thing tomorrow morning. Those last two items tip the scales all the way over.

Have a wonderful weekend, Internet. Be thinking of me tomorrow as I muster my way through the day and use every ounce of restraint not to toss my dearest MIL into the fresh concrete in our backyard and hold her down so that she’ll STICK.

What You Can Learn From the Side of Your Starbuck's Cup

The secret of attraction is to love yourself.
Attractive people judge neither themselves nor others.
They are open to gestures of love.
They think about love, and express their love in every action.
They know that love is not a mere sentiment, but the ultimate truth at the heart of the universe.

--Deepak Chopra
Author of the Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire and other spiritual guides

The View From My Desk

I just saw a Red-Tailed Hawk swoop outside my window at work, over the river. Amazingly beautiful and it reminded me of car trips where my dad would point out each Hawk (or other noteworthy bird or animal) as we drove by. In all those trips in the car, I have never seen one so close...one with it's wing span at full length...right outside my window...SITTING AT MY DESK.

Man, I will miss this view when it's time for me to "move on" or if we move to a different office building. But I'm so glad I was here to see it...and yes, I really am working.

Happy, Happy Birthday!

I haven’t posted since I changed the look here at jpandthemegabeast. If when I publish this post and the blogging world comes crashing down because I really know NOTHING about the html coding I did, you all will completely understand why.

Truth be told, I’ve been trying to write this post for over a week. Back in November, for Jess’ birthday, I wrote about how close I am with both of my sisters and I highlighted Jess in honor of her birthday. (By the way, turning 30 and then moving to Montana four months later…she’s earned some sort of award.) Last Sunday was my sister, Jaye’s (Julia) birthday. I almost always forget how old I am, but I’m fairly certain that she turned 24, which I think is Cameron’s favorite number…hmmm.

Anyway, even though I’m a week after (instead of a day after) I just couldn’t let another day past without sharing with you how wonderful my younger sister is too. I am blessed with two very wonderful and amazing sisters. As I’ve said before, we are so different but those differences are so much fun now that we’re older. As opposed to when we severely disliked each other when we were younger…but that’s for a different post for a different time.

Jaye has always been known as the fun sister…the silly sister. (Jess, you’re still fun…really.) Her quick wit and humor can leave me in STITCHES and our IM conversations are just classic. (I’d share them with you but you just wouldn’t get our humor…that’s just how it goes.) In one of our “classic” IM conversations, we realized that we were just too interesting and clever and that we really should have some sort of a talk show…and that we would totally watch us if we had our own show…like Regis and Kelly! I was the nice sister and gave Jaye the nickname Kelly…somehow I ended up as Regis. But let’s not get hung up about the names….

Kelly, I mean Jaye keeps me young. I don’t know how she does it, but when I’m with her, I go from serious to silly in seconds flat. She can make me act like the BIGGEST moron inside a Target or Wal-Mart and laugh harder than I have in a long time…while we speak in British accents. See? Silly…just plain silly.

But I can also tell you that she has a heart of gold, even though she hates to show any kind of weakness. She is the sweetest little mommy of that little baby Corbin….even though we tease her about being way overprotective. That little boy (okay, he weighs nearly as much as Abby) is so well taken care of and loved by his mommy so much it just touches my heart. (He’s so full of squishy goodness, it’s hard NOT to love him…but whatever.) I love that I am such good friends with both of my sisters. I love that we can tell each other anything and that we can have so much fun together. I just love to have such beautiful sisters who mean the absolute world to me.

Happy Belated Birthday, Jaye. Love you TONS!

Banana Blues

While driving past the local city college today, I saw a young man walking to campus. At first glance, I thought this guy was be-bopping to music he must've been listening to but I soon learned that this was not the case.

Not only was this poor soul talking to himself (with much expression) but every few seconds he would "shoot" the banana he was holding in he left hand and make a face that could only be described as an evil grimace.

#1: Wondering if the banana was in trouble or someone else
and
#2: At least I'm not THAT crazy
and
#3: Please Lord, let the most dangerous thing he possesses be a banana

This Just In: I AM NOT PERFECT!

Suzie Petunia wrote a fabulous post about the pressure to keep up with the Jones’ and thinking people will judge us for our imperfections. I’m learning to embrace my imperfections…and am learning to be okay with the other ones that I haven’t embraced quite yet. It’s such an interesting balance to be comfortable with who you are and yet still trying to be a better person, mom, wife, etc. So in honor of embracing who we are…here are some of my many imperfections that are fun to blog about:

*I Am Not Active in the Mormon Church. I do go to church, just not that one. (That’s a HUGE strike against me in many peoples’ eyes. I’ve stopped wondering what those people think of me…it just takes up too much of my happy place.)

*I often sit and read blogs when I really should be doing something else(At work or at home…it really doesn’t matter.)

*I love Hillary Duff and will listen to her CD even when my children aren’t around. I don’t know if that really contributes to my lack of perfect-ness…but it is something that I felt I should confess. (Yes, Sarah…I just came out of the Hillary Duff listening closet.)

*I will WAIT (yes, I said WAIT) to change a dirty diaper because I know she’s NOT DONE YET!(Diapers are expensive, People!)

*I spend money without even realizing that I do it. It’s like I go into a trance and will hand over the check card and not look back. If it weren’t for my husband, I would probably be broke. That is so sad…

*I forget Picture Day, field trips, and other special school events unless it is STAPLED to my forehead, left hand or my computer screen. I also use a planner but I sometimes forget to even open it when I get home from work.

*Which brings me to another point: I have two children and I work FULL-TIME and let my MIL watch my children!! It’s a wonder CPS doesn’t take my children away seeing that I'm such a horrible mother!

*I am an emotional eater…mostly when I am stressed. You wanna see what a stressful year does to me? Wait…no, you really don’t want to see all that extra weight I gained last year.

*I have a HORRIBLE memory (as mentioned in forgetting picture day, etc…but that was more a plug for me and my bad parenting.) YOU HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE!

*I often say things without thinking. I don’t intentionally “spill the beans” or say stupid things in a crowd of people…I JUST HAVE THE TALENT OF DOING SO! (Note: I do keep the secrets that are really important. I must have disfunctional filter that only keeps the big stuff in.)

*I am addicted to caffeine! The Starbuck’s people LOVE me…it’s kinda like Cheers where everybody knows my name. (I have been much better and not going so much, though.)

*I say crazy things about some of my co-workers and don’t really feel bad about it because they have a magical way of irritating me sometimes. I really do like them, they just have some mental issues that need to be worked on.

*I am SUCH a procrastinator and always think I have more time than I do. I also have a hard time staying focused sometimes on what I’m doing. Hence the blogging when I should be working. Whatever…

Not So Good Friday

I don’t know if any of you have noticed by now that I’m not Catholic. Really. I’m not. Not that there is anything wrong at all about being Catholic, I’m just not. I didn’t grow up with the traditions or rules. I have an overall picture of what they believe, etc. But I’m not and expert on Catholicism at all. However, what I am an expert on is being the daughter in-law of a VERY Catholic woman. And really, I’m married to her no-quite-so-Catholic son.

I’m sure she blames me entirely.

Last night Hubby had a show and had a very hectic day. I was trying to help get him out the door and started to get him something to eat. My MIL casually asked me what I was getting for him and I told her I was getting the chile Colorado she had made earlier in the week. Much to my apparent SUPIDITY, I didn’t make the connection that it was Good Friday and the chile Colorado was made out of BEEF.

There was an audible gasp and my MIL says, “You can’t give him BEEF! It’s Good Friday!!!” I gave her my best “are you kidding me??” look and I threw my hands up in the air and said, much like a snotty child, “Well Soooorry!"

And as high class as that response was, what I really wanted to do is torture the tiny, Hispanic woman and tell her that her son had been a compulsive beef eater for WEEKS…ON FRIDAYS….FOR THE ENTIRITY OF LENT!!!!

So there.

I'm Not Dealing With the Elephant...

I’ve been trying to write for the past few days. I write and then erase tons of words that just seem so…so…not enough. Sunday, we said goodbye to Jess and her family as they make their way to their new life in Montana. Must I remind everyone that it is 1000+ miles away from me??? Can I even begin to write how much crying there was?

Sunday was also Maddie's baptism. (Yes, there was a baptism and then they left immediately for their home in Nevad to prepare for the move to their new home in Montana.) My dad (Bampa/Gramps) gave the talk on baptism where he started out by talking about something he likes to call: The Elephant on the Table. Now, what that means is when you're having a meeting or whatever and there is a big item on the agenda to discuss (a problem of sorts) its known as the Elephant on the Table. Sure, Maddie was getting baptized that day...but her family would be saying goodbye to all of us as they move to the state with no decorating sense. The Elephant? Oh...it was SO THERE.

Sarah put it so eloquently: "So...you have a family of criers...married into a family of criers...that breed a bunch of criers. Nice." I then proceded to blow my nose in her direction. She loved it.

I said goodbye to my older sister. That was hard hard. Our family really is so close. When I try to verbalize just how close, it just isn’t enough and I feel that whoever I’m talking to just isn’t GETTING IT. When I try to describe that Paige’s best friend is her cousin…they don’t fully get that either. When I tell them I was never embarrassed of my parents growing in up and loved to hang out with them, they think I’m completely lying.

I’M NOT LYING, PEOPLE!

I am excited for the Jess and her family in their new adventure. I’m excited for their journey, new friends and wonderful family experiences. My mind is good at telling me all about these things…but my heart just can’t seem to catch up. C’mon on heart…pay attention!

I am SO tired…

- That I’m sitting at my desk, looking at these reports and balance sheets FULL of numbers and it just looks like Greek to me. I don’t speak (or read) Greek…numbers OR words. It is gonna be a long day…I need a nap.

- That drinking Dr. Pepper at 10 am in the morning just didn’t seem like a bad idea…

- That when I was washing my hair this morning, I noticed that my shampoo bottle says “Active Fruit Concentrate” and I really began to ponder how fruit concentrate could be active. Then I washed my face at least twice because I couldn’t remember if I had done it or not.

- That as I was brushing my teeth this morning and when it was time to rinse, I swished the water in my mouth to the exact same tempo (if you will) as “Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?” and then immediately my brain answered: SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS! I don’t exactly “swish” to any specific beat…I’m not sure why or how that happened. Plus, my kids don’t even watch Spongebob…but apparently I know the theme song quite well.

- That as I was leaving for work and putting my stuff on the front seat of my car, I somehow dropped my keys in my purse and pushed the button that locks my car. So as I went around to the driver’s side to get in AND ALL DOORS WERE LOCKED, I stood there for several seconds just wondering how the heck I get into these pickles. Luckily I found the extra key…amazing as that is.

- That I distinctly remember having a conversation with Hubby and Paige about the time and place of Paige’s class play...but the funny thing is that Hubby has absolutely no recollection of this. Usually I’d blame him for not paying attention…but I’m just too tired. Plus, I really do think I imagined him in to the conversation anyway.


Wish me luck. And it would probably be best if you weren’t on the roads while I’m driving…today. Just a thought. Good thing I only have a six minute commute.

What’s On My Mind

You’ve been warned by the title. I have an overwhelming sense of ickiness. I figure if I purge some of it here it might help. However, it may just spread the ickiness. Let’s see:

I’ve followed the Lacy Petersen story since day one. When they showed pictures of her on the news, there was something about her smile that just drew me in and hoped for the best. Obviously, there was no good in the story but I’ve often wondered why this story got so much news attention when there are so many missing people in the world. Maybe it was because they were “typical” cute couple that had so much going for them. They were your white-collar (vs. white trash) family expecting their first child. Did that make their story better? Maybe for the news…but maybe that’s because it brought it closer to home for so many people. I’m not sure. But being the mother of two daughters, every time I hear Sharon Rocha bear her soul, I am crushed. I am devastated for that mother who lost her baby and her baby’s baby. I am brought to tears just thinking about it. I don’t know how I feel about the death penalty. Today, the day Scott Peterson was officially sentenced to death…the ickiness continues. I’m sad for everyone. This shouldn’t happen.

My mom grounded me (at 26, yes) from reading any more of The Executioner’s Song, which is this month’s book club selection over at Various Stages. The book is well written, but I just don’t know that I can read anymore. After dumping all this ickiness out to my mom just a short time ago, she told me that I need to give the book up for Lent. Neither of us are Catholic and therefore don’t celebrate(?) Lent…but that was her advice anyway. Darn. I was hoping to give up these extra pounds for Lent. Maybe I can finagle a deal…

My sister is moving in less than a week to a state that has no decorating sense whatsoever. But more importantly than Montana’s sense of style (or lack thereof) is the fact that she will be over a thousand miles away. (Although, if you ask Map Quest, it only takes 17 hours and 49 minutes to get there. ONLY.) My sisters and I are VERY close. We’re also very close to our brothers and our parents. (We are a very close-knit family…I could’ve just said that.) I’m excited for their new adventure and I’m really trying to focus on that. The selfish JP has hard time NOT focusing on how much I’m going to miss them. How this morning when Paige told me that she is “so, totally going to miss Maddie soooooo much” it was all I could do to just say, “I know, Sweetie…I know.”

But I also need to remember that there were good points from today, too. I finished everything on my To-Do list and so I’m starting on tomorrow’s list. I had a lovely IM conversation with Ms. SarahMarinara and Ms. Carrie Anne. (They rock, by the way.) I had so much fun reading several of my favorite blogs that cracked me up today…that totally helped. Explaining to Michael (my friend’s son) on the way to pre-school that “Let’s Get It Started” is sung by the Black Eyed Peas and not L’il Romeo, or whoever he thought it was. Running home at lunch and Cutie-Pie Abby running as fast as her legs could carry her to fling herself at me in a huge 2-year old’s hug and told me she loved me over and over again. That was precious.

You know, I’m not one of your “I need chocolate now” kind of gal. But I stopped to pick up some “comfort food” on my way back to the office. Is that sad or is that sad? But I don’t care. I really don’t. I’m just bummed and full of ickiness. I’m hoping both can be cured with this delightful Carmel Pecan Chocolate Tart that awaits me. I’m also going to focus on the good instead of the icky. My mom says it’s almost like I need a mental shower…to clean all the bad/sad stuff off.

That’s not a bad idea, Mom.

B-L-O-G...

I have a lovely area next to my cube with a table and chairs which is perfect for doing homework when you are Sarah Marinara on your lunch break, cramming for mid-terms. (It also has a lovely view of the river that can’t be seen due to closed blinds thanks to Weenie Boy 2 who says he can’t see from the glare that BOUNCES OFF the file cabinets.) Sarah brought the popcorn. I continued to work. It was a dandy of a set-up until our ears were assaulted by a conversation between two of our co-workers who’s level of cool…well, let’s just say there is no comparison between them and Sarah and I…it’s a true story. Really.

“Now, what is a blog?”

“It’s a WEB LOG…often referred as a BLOG.”

“And what is that?”

“It’s a form of a journal or diary you keep on-line for everyone to read.”

“Is that the "new thing", now?”

“It must be getting quite popular. My cousin has one of those now. He’s very smart. A geek, but very smart. Geekiness must be a prerequisite for having a blog.”

“ahhhh….I see. We should start a blog [about crap that JP knows nothing about and
therefore cannot even transcribe their nonsense].”

“There is just no way we could start a blog. It takes so much research to gather all the information.”

“Still, it would be “cool” to have a blog about [whatever the hell they were talking about that I really don’t care to know about and therefore wouldn’t read that blog.]

I will have you all know that Sarah and I did an AMAZING job of sideways glances and giggles as we were publicly ridiculed for our favorite pastime of late, even though they had no idea they were making fun of us.

And for the record: I am NOT a geek. I do little to no research whatsoever. I am smart, but perhaps not as smart as “one’s” cousin. I do not wish for those two EVER start a blog of their own. THAT would be a travesty.

As Sarah got ready to leave she announces, “I’m gonna look into getting me one of those blog thingy’s. It sounds so interesting!”

Surviving the Great San Francisco Fart

When Abby gets sick (double ear infection) on Wednesday evening...and then Paige gets sick on Thursday night (pukey, virus/flu thing) it brings absolute chaos and lack of blogging to my life.

I'm used to the chaos...I've totally missed the blogging.

Sunday night, I got hit hard with whatever Paige had. I was miserable. I tried to get up and go to work on Monday...lasted only one hour and then I just HAD to get out of there, if you know what I'm sayin'. I faded in and out for the rest of Monday and tried to catch up on any/all daytime tv that I miss out on daily.

I have NOTHING to show for it.

I watched NO soap operas (not that I would, even in sickness) NO talkshows...NO gameshows...NO black and white shows. I almost felt like a trater to man/womankind that I snuck NONE of those in. The only thing that came even remotely close was The Little House on the Prairie...but I didn't even get to see Pa cry. It was back to the tv menu for more options.

As I scrolled throught the 100+ channels in the menu screen, I have have to rely on my feverish affected eyesight (while not wearing my glasses) to pick the perfect sick-day show. And in my delirium I see the title: Surviving the Great San Francisco Fart...and it had JUST begun. With many double takes and rubbing of eyes I realize that I'm not really reading a title of a show that would make my brothers proud...I have actually fallen prey to the illness that has affected every aspect of my body and to the TV menu/guide that just can't spell out the entire names of shows.

"Surviving the Great San Francisco Earthquake" was just not as appealing to someone who had stayed home sick from work...and who just wanted some really good stayin-at-home-sick-from-work kind of television.

Bummer.

This Just In...

You may have picked up on the fact (between Sarah and my sites) that our office has installed new software to prevent unwanted Internet searching and to block questionable sites. This blocked several things that I love for a time. But the filters are slowly backing off once things finally get set up. Just for grins, I started clicking on things...just to see what I would get.

For a couple of days, Blogger (and anything Blogger related) was blocked as "Conversation" type sites. I mourned this loss with tears and chocolate. Oh yeah, I also gained two pounds. Luckily, Blogger was returned to me...so were those two pounds. I'm working on that.

Even with Blogger comming back from the IT grave, Sarah's site was still blocked...as PORN. I missed Sarah's site terribly, but how funny is it that it was categorized as PORN??!! I found it hilarious. Sarah? Not so much. Oh, but can I tell you how funny it was??? IT has officially deemed her NOT PORN...but she's still bitter.

So today, I thought I would start clicking on things on on MSN.COM to see what was blocked and what wasn't. Just thought I would let you know that if you click on horoscopes, that is blocked for the reason that they are considered CULT or OCCULT...but games? They are TOTALLY okay.

I'm gonna go play me some Bejewled 2...

Are You Lookin' At Me??

It amazes me (always) what people will do when they think they’re not being watched. (It also unnerves you a bit to realize that ANYONE could be watching!)

I saw a man walking up the steps to our building drop the manila folder he was carrying twice, even before he started up the stairs. After the second time, he threw his hands in the air with frustration and admitted defeat.

While at the gas station today I saw a very nicely dressed man “adjust” himself in his lower area as he walked into the Starbucks next door. Nice.

In our break room, people donate a variety of celebrity gossip-type magazines. As I walked in there to get some water, I saw one of the guys flipping through one of the magazines. I’m sure he thought I didn’t see him, as he quickly put it down and looked outside (like he was pondering World Peace) but that really wasn't the case, now was it?

But on the flip side, did anyone see me when I walked down to the parking garage to leave and I headed all the way down to one end of the garage only to turn right around as I realized I parked at the other end? Probably. And did anyone see me (at the aforementioned gas station) open my car door INTO my shoulder as I so gracefully got into my car? Probably.

I hope I was at least entertaining.

This is a Test...This is Only a Test...

Paige has had a third front tooth for several weeks now. Her "baby tooth" just didn't want to budge and it plagued our lives daily. Sunday I even held her down to and tortured her with my wiggling of the tooth (something I HATE to do) and it just didn't help. Did I give birth to the human version of a Saber Toothed Tiger?

How many times can I listen to "Break Away" by Kelly Clarkson before I run screaming from the room? Thanks to Abby we've listened to it about seven times now. She's learned that if she pushes THAT button twice it will PLAY HER FAVORITE SONG over and over and over. This she learned from Sarah.

***During the typing of this blog, Abby's repeated this song two more times...we're up to nine.***

Over a month ago, I was contacted by UC Berkeley for a study they were doing for the Leukemia Foundation. It seems as thought there is a little girl born the same day as Abby (same year, etc) who had Leukemia and they are trying to pull a controlled study of all little girls the same age. When they contacted me the first time, I was slightly unnerved at all the information they had on me and Abby. But then I realized that everything they had on me was from public records. I chilled out and listened to what kind of information they needed and verified some of what they already had...and I agreed to Abby and I being part of this study.

***We're up to ten times...Break away, already!***

I was all ready to tell them no...they already had so much of my information...and I was nervous, as a mother, to have strangers have so much information about my life and daughter. But I stopped for two seconds and realized that if my daughter was the one with leukemia, I would be praying for a cure and hoping that someone (like me) would be willing to answer a few questions about my pregnancy and Abby's surrounding once she was born to see if there was any connection and try to solve the mystery of the disease that plagued my little girl. I can't imagine the mother that has to watch their little two-year old go through so much pain at such a young age. All of a sudden, there was no other answer.

So after many questions (again) over the phone tonight and me taking my turn GRILLING the nice woman on the phone for details, I agreed to finish out the interview process. At the end of this month, this very nice person I talked to on the phone will come over to our house and have an in depth interview about my pregnancy, etc...about Abby's family and surroundings...and the last piece of information they will need is a "swab" of the inside mine and Abby's mouth. There is still a part of me that is nervous for allowing someone/a group to know so much about me and my family. But I really think the benefits for that other little girl with leukemia are so important to consider as I make that decision.

Besides, that woman is going to have to take a swab of inside Abby's mouth...that will seriously deter her from ever stepping foot in our house again. I probably should've warned her.

UPDATE to WAITING!!

I so wanted to pull my last post down because while I am still so proud to be an American...I am SO INCREDIBLY PISSED OFF AT OUR GOVERNMENT AND IT'S AGENCIES!!!!!

You just can't imagine how angry I am. They've lost yet another form and our process is ONE AGAIN thwarted. I'm going to stop now...before I get nasty!

As my dad says, I'm starting to be SO GLAD that we don't have socialized medicine. Can you imagine government agencies LIKE THE PEOPLE I JUST DEALT WITH deciding on your health?!?!?!?!?! Criminy...THAT would SUCK. They'd lose all of your medical records at least twice in a five year period...and that would be a successful situation.

Besides...I work in healthcare...and I like my job...

Waiting...Waiting...

I'm sitting here at work waiting for these dang reports to run. As I yell at the faceless being of technology: "I HAVE LIMITED TIME PEOPLE! GET ON WITH IT ALREADY!" I realize that "the people" hate me and that I'm yelling at no one but this no one hates me still.

The good news is that I'm leaving at noon whether or not these reports run or not. My Latin-Lover Hubby, who was not born in the United States, has been a Resident of the U.S. until this point. Today he takes this big step of becoming a U.S. Citizen....FINALLY. (I don't mind telling you that this has been QUITE the process. And not the most organized process I've ever been through, to boot. So there you have it.) Those of us born in the U.S. take A LOT for granted. Some things I didn’t even realize until I married Hubby. This is so exciting…so very cool.

I grew up in a very patriotic family. My grandfather fought in WWII and I have always taken great pride in that. Today, that is especially wonderful. We are experiencing and enjoying those freedoms that so many people have fought and died for.

So here I go…wish Hubby luck as we head off to take a history test (and I thought we were done with school!) and go through yet another interview. I am such a proud wife right now. I am very proud to be an American.

We've Got the Spirit...How 'bout YOU???

Just between us…I’m not sure I can handle all the basketball talk today. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a HUGE basketball fan…but I work with people who take KING’S FAN to an entirely different level. They talk about aspects of basketball that would boggle the mind of even Shaq. Oh wait…that wouldn’t be hard to do.

With the trade of Chris Webber (and others) the level of King’s discussion is maddening. I’ve been here for an hour and they haven’t even caught their breath. I’ve stuck my head in headphones to try and move past it all and, you know…actually work.

Or blog, whatever…don’t judge.

Lessons Learned on President's Day Weekend

I learned a lot of things this weekend and I thought I would share...for whatever it's worth.

I learned that when Hubby starts bringing crap in from the garage, he means business. The good side of that story is that the girls' room looks GREAT. We just have a couple of pictures left to hang. THIS is a good thing.

I learned that I could decorate the tops of my kitchen cabinets with baskets, bowls, bottles and other "stuff" laying around the garage and it looks GOOD. Carrie Ann would be proud 'cuz I actually did something that could be described as decorating. I should take picture so I can actually prove it. (Note: Hubby started bringing crap in from the garage...it ends up above the cupboards....interesting.)

I learned that since Hubby's band just finished their CD, they needed and worked on the cover for the new album on Saturday. They took pictures several weeks ago and a couple of those pictures appear on the new cover. Hubby looks HOT, if I do say so myself. He cleans up nicely. :) (Will give a 'sneak peak' when available...the new pictures aren't up on their website yet.)

I learned that Abby has a way of putting me in my place. Its up to me to hide that fact that she can put my in my place and be more aware for next time. Lesson learned.

I learned that when you give Paige 20 points at the beginning of the week tell her that at the end of the week, if she still has points left, she can invite a friend over (points get taken away for bad behavior) that by the end of Monday she has only 17 points left. Is it my parenting??

I learned that when you spend an entire day with Hubby working on taxes that by the end of the day I wanted to kick him. That when you have a band, business and personal taxes to worry about...there's just a level of busy and stress that makes you want to cry. Or kick people. Whatever.

I learned that tornados CAN happen where I live. Was actually no big deal. My mom called to make sure we were okay and I had no clue that anything had happened. I was too busy noticing the HUGE raindrops hitting the neighbors pool. I want a pool. Besides, it gave me a break from the taxes and the kicking of certain people.

I learned that you should never plan ANYTHING (weekend family getaway) because inevitably Hubby will completely mix up the dates and schedule a show for the Friday you're supposed to leave. This may also explain why I had such an urge to kick "people" yesterday. Just a thought.

I learned that not only is my sister moving to MONTANA, but after looking through all of her pictures from her trip last weekend I see that I am SENDING HER OFF TO A STATE THAT HAS ABSOLUTELY NO STYLE OR SENSE OF DECENT DECORATING WHATSOEVER!!

WHAT IS THIS WORLD COMING TO?????

I've also just learned that Sarah website has been blocked from our server as porn and that she has never seen Gladiator. I LOVE that movie (Gladiator...not porn, people.) Remind me to tell you about when I was in labor with Abby and that movie kept me occupied. Somehow the blood and gore and pain of that movie put my contractions, back labor and lack of sleep into perspective and I just let myself be entertained. ("Are ye NOT entertained?!") Does this explain why Abby is the way she is? Probably...

JP's Top Ten List: Things I Have an Unhealthy Love For

I still have writer’s block. (Lucky you.) Here is a top 10 list of things that I LOVE that are probably not all that healthy. I said probably. Don't judge...

1. Funfetti cake mix and funfetti frosting. I don’t love any cake like I love Funfetti. One of those things you should avoid even though you LOVE.
2. Johnny Depp. YUM. My love for this man dates back to 21 Jumpstreet days and the posters Jess had all over her room. My heart does this pitter-patter thing every time I see his picture or watch him in a movie. (Have you seen the January Rolling Stones magazine???? FOR THE LOVE!!!!!) I just can't say enough about his wonderful yuminess. But I'll stop here before I just can't go on.
3. Harry Potter Books. Notice I said BOOKS. I do NOT have an unhealthy love for a fictional, British, teenage wizard. Now THAT would be obsurd…and not just a little ICKY. I love the books and have read each one multiple times. I don’t know why the love is there…IT JUST IS.
4. Starbuck’s. I hate them. I love them. I hate them. (“JP…how can you hate Starbuck’s.” “Because they put an addictive chemical in it that makes you crave fortnightly, Smart@$$!”) Sometimes it’s just better not to ask…
5. Sweet Home Alabama, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, Goonies, Newsies, So I Married an Axe Murderer (hence the above craziness/line), Drop Dead Fred, The Princess Bride (sorry, Cam), White Christmas, Summer Stock, Cheaper by the Dozen, You've Got Mail…all movies that I can watch over and over and over and over and over again. Sick, Sick, Sick.
6. My MIL’s enchiladas. OH.MY.WORD. You MUST try these things. ‘Nuf said.
7. Green Day. A little scary...a little edgy...BUT OH SO ROCK-WONDERFUL! Again, HAVE YOU SEEN THE ROLLING STONE COVER??? They are just too fabulous.
8. U2. My love for them even withstand albums that just don't compare to Joshua Tree. Oh, but the love. (HAVE YOU SEEN THE ROLLING STONE MAGAZINE COVER?? I promise...that's the last time I'll do that.)
9. 80's Music and Movies. It really is a sickness I share with many of my friends. I'm seeking counceling, but I really don't think it will help! I mean, c'mon people! It is just too much fun for words...
10. ALIAS. Is there ANYTHING better than a gal that can seriously KICK SOME TAIL?! She ROCKS! She makes me want to high kick and stuff. PLUS, she gets to love on Michael Vartan...even if it isn't in real life anymore. Still...that chick does it all. And with such pizazz!

So...how unhealthy are these loves? Let's not ask such questions. It's just not necessary.

Writer's Block...and the Aftermath

Sometimes your mind and your heart are way to full and its hard to spill some of it out. I haven’t posted in almost a week here…and I post weekly to Various Stages of Mormondom…and for some reason, that’s all I could focus on this week. The current theme focuses on “If I never marry, what does this mean religiously” but centers a lot around the pressures we (as a culture) feel to get married and how much of that comes from religion…but not all of it. I thought it was going to be a slam dunk because I’m married…it doesn’t really apply to me.

Not so.

Up until yesterday I had no ideas on what I was going to write. But I happened to catch an episode on Tuesday night of Sex and the City. Now, we all know that we shouldn’t learn life’s lessons from S&theC, but somehow they can always make you think. This particular episode took us through the celebration of Charlotte’s 36th (or 35th part II) birthday and how the pressures of being married at ‘that age’ just kept getting stronger. It got my thought process going…and I just figured I’d write figuratively and generically about marriage or not getting married.

Things didn’t happen quite like that…and as I started to write, it was like someone else was typing. And I just let that person type.

I’m nervous about how certain people will react to what a posted. I’m nervous about spilling my heart and guts out for everyone to see. And somehow, amidst all that…I feel a strange sense of peace.

I think I’ve had a breakthrough. Thanks, Internet…and thanks, Sarah.


(And a HUGE shout out to Kaycee the Blogger GODDESS for helping me post the craziness…and a special one to all the VSofM bloggers…I LOVE that group!)

On The Road Again

We often give my parents a hard time for never taking us to Disneyland when we were kids. We’re brats…this is what we do. I had to wait until I was an “almost adult” to make that trip. But you know what? That’s okay. To be perfectly honest, I can remember all of our camping and hiking trips and have the fondest of memories of that time shared with my family. Growing up, my dad followed his grandmother’s tradition of teaching his children to appreciate and enjoy nature. We didn’t know the name of every flower or every bird but that didn’t matter. We loved being outside and could really stop and smell the roses (or pine trees or the ocean breeze…whatever.) From where we live, it’s basically less than two hours to the ocean or to the mountains and we would make those trips as often as we could. I LOVE the memories of those trips.

Because of the way I grew up, I just love where I live. (At least most of the time.) Early this morning, as I drove to work on this beautiful, crisp, clear morning I could see the gorgeous, snow capped Sierras ahead of me in the far off distance. Looking to the left, I could see the Sutter Buttes and looking behind me I could see the Coastal Range. On a very clear day, I can also see Mt Diablo. My office sits right next to the Sacramento River. I am a spoiled rotten brat and not only do I have a window view from my desk but that window view looks straight out to the river, like my office is hanging over the river. I know it sounds cheesy, but there is something about seeing these nature masterpieces that makes me happy. For those few minutes this morning, I was so caught up in the beauty of the valley that I just felt such a sense of peace and contentment. In some way, it brings me closer to my family and our family memories. I think it also makes me appreciate my dad and my grandparents for teaching us to take the time to enjoy nature.

My parents, Jess and my brother in-law are on their way to Montana. In less than a month’s time, my sister and her family will be moving hundreds of miles away. Words cannot express how much I will miss them but how excited I am for their new adventure. I think that one thing that will help Jess make this transition is our love for nature and how much we enjoy it. I think that because we grew up embarking on new territories and looking for the beauty, Jess and her family will be able to do the same with Montana. Like a new world to be explored and enjoyed. She totally found the beauty that is in Nevada. (In Nevada!!) It will be that much easier for her to find in Montana.

Now, if it was only closer to California…

Did I Ever Tell You About the Time I…

...worked at Godfather’s pizza my Senior year of High School. My co-workers were a couple of drug addicts, a devil-worshiper, football players and a couple of psycho cheerleader types. It really is no wonder that the place closed a few years ago. I just can’t believe that I’ve kept my love for pizza after working there.

...left the job at Godfather’s (after high school) to work as a nanny for a family I knew from the Stake/church. The kids were so incredibly awful I quit after 3 days. AWFUL. The mother actually told me that I could put the little boy in a time out IN THE GARAGE. Needless to say, I couldn’t do that.

...wore a green square sticker with an “L” on my forehead so the surgeon wouldn’t forget to cut into the LEFT side of my chest? I was only 17 and was undergoing a breast biopsy for 4 lumps that were hangin’ out…one was the size of a quarter. (I was fine, by the way.) About two weeks after the surgery, Sarah bumped into the sensitive side and I smacked her. She yelled, “Hey, that’s my bad arm!” I yelled back, “Hey, that’s my bad boob.” We still laugh at that. We’re weird. This shouldn’t surprise you.

...got married in my sister’s wedding dress? Looked FABULOUS on her. Not so fabulous on me. Remind me to tell you about my MIL drama from that day…oh, the ‘happy’ memories. Oh, wait…there really wasn’t any.

...watched the Hillary Duff video “Our Lips Are Sealed” with Paige and Abby over and over and over and over. I would like to blame it entirely on their designs…but that Hillary Duff is just FUN.

...was watching my little brothers after school and we happen to be watching The Little Mermaid. (I did mention briefly that my grandmother that lived behind us reminded us of Ursula, right? She was just as mean.) We all saw that my grandmother pulled up in the driveway and we all scattered. (This was normal practice.) She happened to walk in the door just as Ursula was being spectacularly evil…Gram got mad (like we would do that on purpose, puh-lease!) and shut of the T.V. Seriously…we didn’t do that on purpose.

...hit a parked truck, a fence AND our mailbox not long after getting my license. Oh yeah, I think I did mention that one. And yet, I still bring it up to humiliate myself.

...went to a Milli Vanilli concert? It’s almost painful to admit that one. It was actually an MTV LIVE concert and featured: Information Society, Was Not Was, Tone Loc, Paula Abdul and Milli Vanilli. I am so cool.

...met a new friend (at work) and for the first couple of months had NO CLUE she was gay? There were several hints made, but JP just SO didn't get it? After her attending the Melissa Ethridge concert with her 'friends' and talking about her 'significant' other...I still didn't get it. I honestly don't even remember what finally made me wake up and see the lipstick lesbians.

...was having lunch with said lesbian friend and others and we were talking about the features on our phones. We were all kind of talking at once, but my phone sucked and I said “Yeah, mine doesn’t have anything…its SO GAY." They didn’t hear me (I asked them later) but OH MY GOSH! I NEVER say those things. I totally blamed Hubby for his use of the “GAY” language.

...conspired with two of my friends on Grad Night to put soap in a fountain at one of the busiest intersections in town. Drove back by two days later and the suds were still at least five feet tall. I was look-out, Jaimes was the get-away driver and Sarah was that STAR of the whole show. SUCH the rebels. I’m sure we did a couple of Chinese Fire Drills along the way, too.

...REPLIED to a work e-mail instead of FORWARDING and almost said some pretty nasty things about the REPLIED to person. Oh yeah…ya’ll know ALL about that one. It just happed to pop into my head today. I still feel like a complete IDIOT.

Okay…perhaps I’ve shared enough today. Perhaps not. We’ll see.

I’m in a funk. So please excuse the following ramblings of JP the Rambler.

My mother thinks I do not like her.

Okay, so that comes off really weird when I actually type that out…but go with me here. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far as to why my mother thinks I’m hatin’ on her. Or just being really distant…whatever. You get the point.

*I’m a VERY sarcastic person…is it borderline bitchy? Uncaring?

*I lead a very crazy, chaotic life…do I make it seem like I don’t have time for her?

*Because of my very crazy, chaotic life, I am a crazy chaotic person…yeah, that’s just a fact. I have no questions regarding that one.

*If ever I am having a bad day or something is wrong, I avoid my mother because she will inevitably make me weep openly if she says even one nice word to me. Heaven help us all if she actually hugs me…I’m to hysterics at that point. Am I always having a bad day…is something always wrong with me? Do I avoid my Mother because I cannot show any signs of weakness because I’ve got to keep it all together??

(I apologize for that last paragraph…too many questions just thrown out into the Internet all at once. I could be court marshaled and drug kicking and screaming from my computer for that.)

But, Internet, THESE are the questions that linger!! THESE are the things that make you go “hmm.” THESE are the days of MY life!

AM I PUNISHING MY MOTHER BECAUSE SHE UNDERSTANDS ME BEST???

Ponder this. Mull it over. Let me know what you think…

And Yo' ass Wonder Why I'm CRAZY??

Yes, this is a re-post, technically. But when you Ask Snoop...this is an example of whatcha get...

I just had da most ANNOYING morning 'n I decided BLOG ABOUT IT." Well…because I CAN n' shit.

First of izzall, I guess yo' ass could be like that that shiznit started last night." Maybe that’s my problem, know what I'm sayin'? My annoying MORNING started LAST NIGHT! I didn’t feel well." I has been having these weird aches 'n pains that a twenty-something year old gal shouldn’t has n' shit. I’m in serious denial that arthritis runs rampant in my family…'n that I am in any way susceptible that shiznit n' shit. DAMN THOSE FAMILY GENES!!! So, not feeling well…I’m overly tired…I had a big ass day at work…my beautiful shorties wuz a handful…my husband wuz being a pest…'n my mother in-law wuz buggin’ n' shit. (And I SWEAR Buddha if ANYONE asks me if I’m PMS-in'…I WILL CUT THEM n' shit. Besides, that’s JUST NOT IT." )

After reading 'bout muthas’s shorties peeing on da floor (I laughed) I went crib only has my child pee on da floor n' shit. Twice." (I didn’t laugh, know what I'm sayin'? ) Then, further enhance my evening, Paige COMPLETELY flipped out over everything I told her." Did I fast forward six years 'n I now live wit a teenager???? And did I mention Hubby wuz a pest 'n my MIL wuz buggin’? OH…'n I didn’t feel gravy? But I wuz nice 'n I told my in-laws leave da dishes…I would do 'em in da morning so that I could just go bed."

And I did n' shit. And I really didn’t start today in a bad mood, know what I'm sayin'? Really." I didn’t. And I kept my word 'bout cleaning da kitchen, know what I'm sayin'? But Abby came downstairs wit me “help” me wash dishes, know what I'm sayin'? (Just in case yo' ass wuz wondering, two-year olds are not much help when washing dishes n' shit. ) By da end of cleaning up, I (wit my work clothes already on) has H-2-Izzo izzall over me…'n Abby is completely annoyed wit me that I won’t let her climb in da sink 'n has a bath, da Kill-Joy that I am, know what I'm sayin'? Oh, 'n by da way…while I wuz cleaning, I threw away (in da garbage) a cream cheese container after I checked make sho that shiznit wasn’t recyclable, know what I'm sayin'? I wouldn’t normally share such babble, but that shiznit will be important later on n' shit. I survived da washing of dishes 'n proceeded make Paige lunch 'n mine." Paige wuz actually hella helpful ('n not flipping out) 'n making her lunch together wuz a hella enjoyable experience, know what I'm sayin'? (Can I mention that I still don’t feel well? Oh well, I just did." ) When my MIL walks into da kitchen 'n is getting ready fo' her day, brizzle throws something away 'n sees da cream cheese container in da garbage." She then asks me (in da most annoying way) please put those containers in da recycling bin n' shit. I reply that that shiznit’s not a container that is recyclable, I checked n' shit. She then says just do that shiznit anyway because da garbage folks will take that shiznit, know what I'm sayin'? I be like yes, they will take that shiznit BUT THEN THEY WILL THROW IT IN THA GARBAGE BECAUSE ITS NOT RECYCLABLE!!! But brizzle gives me this look that says “Do that shiznit anyway…because I be like so” 'n I turn away because if I continue see that look I will be forced put my tiny mother in-law IN THA RECYCLYING BUCKET AND NOT CARE THAT SHE’S NOT RECYCLABLE!

I think I’ve earned some sort of medal, know what I'm sayin'? Yo' ass know, fo' NOT beheading muthas that really, really, really deserved that shiznit, know what I'm sayin'?

I Am Just Not Ready For Her to Know About All of THAT

My friend Mary takes her son, Michael, and Paige to the library every week. And when you take an almost five year old and a seven year old to the bathroom with you, interesting questions can fly out of their mouths:

“Hey Mary?” asks Paige. “Why do they sell napkin for $.25? I thought they were free.”

I Fought the Law and the Law Won

I just fought with a toilet seat cover. You heard me: A TOILET SEAT COVER. It just kept getting all twisted and non-compliant. You’d think that I would just throw it in the toilet and be done with it. But I didn’t. I was going to show that toilet seat cover who was boss. (I so did.)

I also fought with my sweater this morning as it got caught on a button from the back of my slacks. That one I HAD to win. Otherwise my sweater would’ve been ruined. (It so wasn't.)

I fought with Abby this morning just to get that child’s socks and sweatshirt on. I nearly gave up on that battle and I tossed the sweatshirt on her head. She ended up throwing the sweatshirt AND the socks at top speed onto the floor telling me “NO, Mommy!” (I should learn how to say “no” from Abby.) Thus creating more work for me by now having to pick up the scattered clothing and continue the fight to dress her. She’s still upset, nine hours later. (She so is.)

Now I am fighting with myself over a comment I made on a blog that I contribute to. It was a combination of me misreading something and some words switched around. For some reason, my defenses got the better of me and I pounded out a very defensively written comment. More proof that you should take some time and really think about what you’re about to do when you actually press that “comment” button. I read and re-read the other posts, just to be sure…and I STILL got it wrong. I got defensive to someone that I have never met but who I just think the world of. I’m so bugged but this but I just happen to think that maybe those emotions were closer to the surface than I realized.

Its been a reoccurring theme on a few blogs that I read where people are leaving hurtful comments on other’s sites. I hope that I didn’t just step over that fine line. That’s just not a fight I want to have. I admire (and adore) MANY of you bloggers out there and would HATE to think that I offend anyone.

Internet? I have learned my lesson. Thanks, Sarah and Carrie Ann and Jess…I needed to learn that lesson.

JUST SAY NO

My life just isn’t very exciting. Jam packed, crazy, running a mile a minute, chaotic, insane, full, busy, never a dull moment…all of those things my life IS. I remember at the beginning of this month I was so pleased to find my calendar very clean. There just wasn’t a lot going on. I even commented on this to my mom who I think laughed at me on the inside because even she knew that it wouldn’t stay that way.

And it really didn’t.

I normally use color coding on my calendar to keep everything straight and so I know who has to be where at what time. If you look at my “month-at-a-glance” calendar, it is a BLUR of color. It’s insane. My co-workers, friends and family avoid even glancing at my calendar because the tie-dye color effect it has on them gives them a slight twitch and they are never the same again. Me? I guess I’m just used to it. Well, I tolerate it.

2005 was my year of saying “NO” and meaning it. I’ve started that process but I still have so much to say NO to. Some things you JUST CANNOT SAY NO TO, people. You just can’t. When Hubby’s family is here from Mexico and you have never even met these side of the family, No isn’t an option. When you just find out your sister is moving far away and your ENTIRE (immediate) family will be together all this weekend. NO isn’t an option. Please don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to say NO to these events…its just that I seem to get flack from other people that it’s all my own fault that I’m always so tired and run down.

And yes, I guess they are right.

I CHOOSE to do these things with my family. It makes me happy and I LOVE spending time with them. I’m so blessed to have such a wonderful family, who in their right mind would tell them no? I CHOOSE for Paige to have so many activities for her to be involved in. I want my girls to have all the opportunities I can possibly give them. I CHOOSE to make time for my friends. I have truly amazing friends; they must have a special place in my schedule because they have such a special place in my heart. I CHOOSE to do these things and I have to be careful to have balance in all that I do. I need to make sure that I CHOOSE to take time to rest and have JP time. That is not very easy to do.

And so here I go. Here I try to make sure I make time for myself. This is NOT an easy task. Every night this week (after I work a nine hour day) I have something going on with either Hubby’s family or mine. Do I try to fit too much in? I do. I really do. I guess I just have this voice inside me that says “I’ve gotta do it all…don’t say no.” This is a lesson for me to learn. That I don’t “gotta do it all” and it really is okay to say NO. Sometimes it’s even okay to throw in a HELL NO. Still…NO’s need to come from me more often.

It is just so hard to figure out when.

And You Wonder Why I'm CRAZY??

I just had the most ANNOYING morning and I decided to BLOG ABOUT IT. Well…because I CAN.

First of all, I guess you could say that it started last night. Maybe that’s my problem. My annoying MORNING started LAST NIGHT! I didn’t feel well. I have been having these weird aches and pains that a twenty-something year old gal shouldn’t have. I’m in serious denial that arthritis runs rampant in my family…and that I am in any way susceptible to it. DAMN THOSE FAMILY GENES!!! So, not feeling well…I’m overly tired…I had a big day at work…my beautiful children were a handful…my husband was being a pest…and my mother in-law was buggin’. (And I SWEAR to Buddha if ANYONE asks me if I’m PMS-ing…I WILL CUT THEM. Besides, that’s JUST NOT IT.)

After reading about people’s children peeing on the floor (I laughed) I went home only to have my child pee on the floor. Twice. (I didn’t laugh.) Then, to further enhance my evening, Paige COMPLETELY flipped out over everything I told her. Did I fast forward six years and I now live with a teenager???? And did I mention Hubby was a pest and my MIL was buggin’? OH…and I didn’t feel good? But I was nice and I told my in-laws to leave the dishes…I would do them in the morning so that I could just go to bed.

And I did. And I really didn’t start today in a bad mood. Really. I didn’t. And I kept my word about cleaning the kitchen. But Abby came downstairs with me to “help” me wash dishes. (Just in case you were wondering, two-year olds are not much help when washing dishes.) By the end of cleaning up, I (with my work clothes already on) have water all over me…and Abby is completely annoyed with me that I won’t let her climb in the sink and have a bath, the Kill-Joy that I am. Oh, and by the way…while I was cleaning, I threw away (in the garbage) a cream cheese container after I checked to make sure it wasn’t recyclable. I wouldn’t normally share such babble, but it will be important later on.

I survived the washing of dishes and proceeded to make Paige lunch and mine. Paige was actually very helpful (and not flipping out) and making her lunch together was a very enjoyable experience. (Can I mention that I still don’t feel well? Oh well, I just did.) When my MIL walks into the kitchen and is getting ready for her day, she throws something away and sees the cream cheese container in the garbage. She then asks me (in the most annoying way) to please put those containers in the recycling bin. I reply that it’s not a container that is recyclable, I checked. She then says to just do it anyway because the garbage folks will take it. I said yes, they will take it BUT THEN THEY WILL THROW IT IN THE GARBAGE BECAUSE ITS NOT RECYCLABLE!!! But she gives me this look that says “Do it anyway…because I said so” and I turn away because if I continue to see that look I will be forced to put my tiny mother in-law IN THE RECYCLYING BUCKET AND NOT CARE THAT SHE’S NOT RECYCLABLE!

I think I’ve earned some sort of medal. You know, for NOT beheading people that really, really, really deserved it.

The Little House That is NOT on the Prairie

Saw a commercial for the latest embarrassment - I mean reality show last night. It’s all about a happily, newly married couple who move into a house that is TOO SMALL. And by too small, I mean it is a house built for Mini-Me. Like something built on a dare. Short ceilings, short bed, little stove…tiny tables and furniture…you get the picture. It was a story about their struggles with NOT HAVING ENOUGH ROOM. Here they are shoving each other off the bed…the sleepless nights that become of that. The WAY to small kitchen and them trying to have a romantic dinner and failing miserably. Can you say Alice in Wonderland for 2005???

I began to question my own sanity. “Is this what I’m really seeing?” I started to hyperventilate and cry just a little. Is THIS what TV has become? Do I live in THIS world that would create just this type of reality TV??? THIS is NOT reality, people!

And as I continue ranting and hyperventilating…my sobs are interrupted by the end of the commercial learning it was just an advertisement for GEICO insurance.

I very nearly threw my pen at the television and am now counting the days when some sleazy TV executive pitches that idea to one of “those” networks and the reality show that haunts me will run its own commercials and I’ll be faked out thinking its only GEICO…when IT WON’T BE.

Yeah…I have THAT much faith in American television.

The Throw That Cannot Be

I just can't believe how UNTALENTED I am at "THROWS." You know, the decorative blankets that you "throw" onto your couch to complete the ensemble...to give it the "just right" look to the couch and to the room. I suck at it. I mean I'm really terrible at it. I have certain areas of, let's call it, decorating that I am good at. But apparently throwing a blanket onto the side corner of the couch is not my forte. I must have tried at least eight times before just leaving it in a type of hudled mess on the couch.

That was my best? That's all I can do???

I try to focus on the genius of it all. Why kill myself trying to "throw" the blanket when I'm only good at "tossing." For I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Hubby would walk past it and fix it. I knew that the anal retentive man I love dearly just could not walk by with the throw only "tossed" onto the couch. It just wouldn't do.

And it didn't do.

Not ten minutes later (without me saying one word) the throw is thrown perfectely onto the couch in just the right spot, at just the right angle.

If he starts accessorizing better than I do...well, just know that I'll still kick his butt at dancing-wait no...um...at...at...

Oh, forget it.

Say What?

Last night, Hubby went out with the guys...to a pub...downtown. On a trip to the bathroom, Hubby noticed two girls in the one of the stalls in the Men's Room. One of those girls was obviously not doing well and her friend was just there for "support." The more sober of the two left when Hubby went into another stall to...you know. While he was washing his hands, the Ever-So-Drunken-One made her way out to the sink.

"You okay?" Asks Hubby.

Very slowly the E-S-D-O says, "Yeeeaaaahhhh...I just don't understand why I have to use the bathroom with all these guys...."

WARNING...This Person Might Make You Die From Laughter...Or From Choking on Peanuts!

There’s just nothing like going to lunch with a dear friend. Especially when that friend is Sarah Marinara. We went to a pizza/salad place close to the office where the employees are just tremendous. This is only the second time we’ve been there and already we feel like Norm walking into Cheers. Good stuff, Maynard. (Shout out to Jay, who takes great care of us…)

So, we’re in line, getting our salads when we start discussing Sarah’s friendships and how she just won’t go away. Let’s face it, once you’re Sarah’s friend…you’re stuck with her. She technically should wear a warning label. I likened her to bad chili…however, she likened HERSELF to an INFECTIOUS, INCURABLE DISEASE. By this time, the girl making our salads is giggling…but when Sarah takes it a step further and calls herself AIDS…this is when the girl is thinking Sarah’s gone of the deep end. And, well…maybe she has.

Because as we are eating lunch, it became quite apparent that Sarah Marinara has TURRETS. Originally, I thought this was a genetic disorder, but apparently I.WAS.WRONG. It is HIGHLY contagious and she contracted it from when she dated Turrets Boy a few months back! (I WILL DESTROY YOU!) As we’re sitting there, trying to eat lunch, THINGS just keep FLYING out of Sarah’s mouth. And while, no…not all is questionable content…ALL of it is DOWN RIGHT FUNNY. She blames much of the Turrets on her "new" stomach that is revolting against her and who calls her horrid names because its jealous of other people. (Let's be honest, the fact that her stomach talks to her...a tad concerning.) I nearly choked seven times on the peanuts in my Asian chicken salad and once on my breadstick. So while she technically isn’t an infectious, incurable disease…she IS somewhat of a health hazard.

I’m working on the permanent label I’m going to affix to her forehead.

Under the Weather...and Under My Skin.

It is Abby’s turn to be sick now that Paige is on the mend. And let me just tell you that she’s taking the job seriously. The funny thing about Abby is that she’ll throw you off by not acting sick…and then all of a sudden she’s down for the count. Oh, but last night…I learned the “new” wrath that is Abby when she is sick. Let ye now be warned.

If she was even so much as nudged last night while she was sleeping in OUR BED, she would completely flip out. And by flipping out I mean that she resembled a psychotic animal in captivity. On one of the few times that I even attempted to touch her so SHE WOULDN’T FALL OFF THE BED, she responded with the flailing of limbs and gnashing of teeth.

In my sleep deprived state I say “Are you kidding me??!!” To which she responds with a nice, swift kick to my side.

Apparently she wasn’t kidding me.

Council, You're Out of Order

Well...I did have plans to go to Tahoe this weekend but it just wasn't in the cards. Instead, we stayed home with a sick Paige (and then Abby last night) and just hung around the house. We did venture out yesterday for a quick trip to my mom's before Jess and kids left for home. On the way there, Hubby had a conversation with Paige to remind her that it was time for medicine once we got to Grammie's house. As usual, Paige begins to complain and freak out about the medicine taking and Hubby and I really try to drive home the fact that she really doesn't have a choice.

Completely out of the blue, Abby tries to come to her sister's aid.

"No wannit Paigie."
(Translation: Paigie doesn't want the medicine.)

"Abby. Its okay. Paige needs her medicine.
(This is me trying to reason with a two-year old. I'm so smart.)

"No wannit Paigie!"
(She's getting more insistent.)

This continues one more time when all of a sudden Hubby says, "What, Paige...did you hire a lawyer? Did Abby take the case??"

After the laughter subsides, and there was 30 seconds of silence before Paige tries another angle.

"Mom. I really don't want to take my medicine."

"Paige...talk to your lawyer." And then right on cue...

"No wannit Paigie!"

Living Under a Rock

I've said it before, but I've lead a sheltered life in so many ways. There are times when Hubby really begins to wonder about me and how naive I am. Especially when he uses a comment or phrase and I have to have him explain it to me. Unfortunately, I am the one having the embarrasing moment. Let me explain:

One day at work, Hubby called me up while he was out and about. We chatted for several minutes and he mentioned that he was on his way back home. Then he says:

"Yeah, I'm gonna go drop the kids off at the pool."

Confused, naive JP says: "What kids? What pool?"

The embarassment? Oh, its there.

Table for Fourteen, Please

Any time my family gets together, you can bet your booty there is chaos but there is so much fun. The following are some the funniest dang moments from last night's dose of chaos. I'm still recovering...and Jess has vowed revenge because she knows that what I'm about to do. (There really are only a few Jess moments ahead...trust me, I could've put MORE.) Let's just preface this entire blog by saying that it took Jess and her kids nearly four hours to get to my mom's house for the weekend. By the time dinner rolled around, she was just plain dippy. Poor thing...

Somehow the subject of the movie "Along Came Polly" and it was brought up how funny Jess and my brother Jordan thought the "sharted" part was. For some reason, it totally slays them. My mom, hearing us talk about it, mentions how much she hates that word. "I prefer Fooped," she says.
"Foop,"says Jess. "I don't get it." (Don't worry, here I come to help the poor soul.)
"Jess. Sh** + Fart = Sharted. Fart + Poop =...."
"ohhhh...Foop."
There she goes!


Later on, my mom was trying to tell Jess about someone she ran into and couldn't think of her name. There was much guessing going on and then Jess started to yell out hints.
"WHAT?!" I say.
Jess says," Lassie's having trouble...I'm trying to figure out what she's trying to tell me."
(Much laughing)
"What about?" I ask
Jess' profound answer: "If I knew, I would KNOW!"

My mom's neighbor recently had her chest "worked on" and we are all so very excited for her. (I'm jealous...but that's okay.) We all really want to go see her new additions but can't really imagine ourselves going over there, knocking on her door and asking if her new boobs can come out to play. My mom says we should just preface everything by saying: "Hey, JP wants to get one someday..."

No, Mom...I would really rather prefer TWO. A tad more efficient that way.


No matter how much debate...Jess still maintains that a group of turkeys is a gaggle. Please comment here and prove her wrong. ;)

During our discussion of TiVo, Jess, J and voiced our desire to have one of our own. My dad just could not see the benefit of such a product. While trying to explain the benefits, I say, "Dad. You know how you fall asleep during a show? As soon as you wake up, hit rewind and play with now commercials!"

But J had to one up me: "You know, Dad, how you take an hour to go to the bathroom? You could TOTALLY pause C.O.P.S. and then come back right where you left off!"

um...yeah...Jess? Don't tell Dad I posted that one...

I wrote all of these down while I was there at my mom's because my memory is just THAT GOOD. Everyone kept asking me what I was doing. Without giving away "too much" I told them that I was writing down all of the stupid things that keep coming out of Jess' mouth.

Hubby kindly asked if I needed more paper. He's so...helpful.

I have such fun with my family....

Un Problemo

I just got off the phone with my younger sister to schedule weekend plans. (Just found out that Jess is coming for the weekend…but whatever. Now she’s going to blame me because I keep forgetting to call her. Again…whatever.) Anyway, here’s the problem:

When you need a TRANSLATOR to understand J because she has such a severe sinus infection, this is a problem!

I still am not quite sure what we just talked about.

What a Way To Make a Living...

As Sarah and my friend Noelle can attest to...I was a COMPLETE shit the past couple of days (even though they'll yell at me for saying this) over this promotion that I applied for. They way people were acting and just the overwhelming sense of WEIRDNESS...I thought that I had been passed over. I had a really sick feeling in my stomach...I was dissapointed, let down and all around negative.

And then I get called into my boss' office this morning...

NOTHING can make you feel more like a shit than thinking you've lost at something and have a REALLY bad attitude only to find out that you got the job.

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen...I got the promotion...and I feel like a SHIT. I can't even be excited...okay, I can a little bit...because I feel like such a WANKER. (Yes, Aidan and Sarah, I just said wanker.) Once again, I have FAILED at my tests in humility. FAILED.

But, DAMN! I GOT THE JOB! After the feelings of guilt go away I will realize how proud I am of myself and how excited I am for this promotion. Until then...ya'll need to learn from the lesson that I didn't.

DON'T. BE. A. SHIT.

Pow-Pow Power Wheels

As I wrote about Abby running over the world in her two-wheeler, I was reminded why I will NEVER buy my children one of those “Power Wheels” vehicles that look so cool in the commercial. And this is why:

Over the summer we attended a birthday party for a family friend’s four-year old daughter, B. (And by we I mean my family of four, my in-laws and my brother in-law.) The festivities were held outdoors and there were all the fun activities my children could want. B and all of her guests were having a blast in the kiddie pool, the swing set, the tire swing and the crafts alongside Snow White, the other guest of honor. B was Little Miss Social and fluttered around having a blast…then she would hop on in to her jeep Power Wheels and cruise off. Sometimes with her passenger friends, sometimes just by herself. (I mean, how cool is this kid who has her own car?) I have to say that B is the exception to almost all rules and therefore is a FABULOUS driver.

This cannot be said about the little boy who took the wheel next.

From the moment they switched divers, I knew problems were ahead. I had no clue who that boy was, but he was probably around five and my fear was intense. I really couldn’t have told you why I feared that child behind the wheel from the moment he got there, but I did. I was on guard for any suspicious activity. My mommy radar was in full force.

I was on the lookout.

The trouble this: I was watching my children, and my children alone. That jeep would NOT get anywhere around my girls. Who would have known that I should’ve been watching my poor little mother in-law?

MIL is not even five feet tall. She’s tiny, but don’t let that fool you. The dangerous beast of a jeep from bottom to top was nearly as tall as she was. The poor woman didn’t have a chance when The Evil that is Boy Child of Five is traveling at top speed in this jeep and can’t steer for crap.

And just like an episode of A-Team (that’s for you, Aidan) this jeep and child driver is heading straight for MIL. I tried to warn her, but let’s face it…I don’t know “Get the HELL out of the way” or “Move it, Woman!” in Spanish at times of great urgency. And my warnings in English probably didn’t sound like much to her mostly Spanish hearing ears at this same time of great urgency. (Note to self: Look these phrases up and memorize in Spanish for future use.)

Warnings could not help this poor woman, and the child came barreling toward her, and at the last second, MIL sees the jeep…but it is too late. Just like a scene out of a movie (or A-Team) MIL LEAPS out of the way and is clipped just slightly. She thankfully lands on soft ground and grass, her injuries are minimal…just bruises. Well, no physical injuries. Her two sons (and...um, her daughter in-law) witnessing the entire even and then laughing their asses off once we know she’s okay…yeah, that didn’t do a whole lot for her pride. Yeah, hubby and J weren’t very kind (I at least TRIED to hide my laughter.)

But all I can say, it’s a darn good thing that kid didn’t run over me or my girls. I would’ve wasted no time in...in…yeah, I totally would’ve unleashed Abby on that sucker.

She does come in handy.

"Let Me 'Splain...No, There Is Too Much. Let Me Sum Up"

Just to clarify...nothing specifically happened with Abby to declare her the "Hell-Raiser" for our family. Its just who she is. But if you want examples you can go here, here , here and lovingly here.

She really is going to conquer the world. If not run it over with her two-wheeler.

I've seen her in action...

Danger Zone

I think Abby is going to be the hell-raiser that I never could be. Just thought I'd give you all a fair warning. Especially those of you living in Northern California...be afraid. Be very afraid.

Sunny Day...Sweepin' the Clouds Away...

When I was four or five years old, I got fed up over something my mom did or wouldn’t let me do. I packed up the suitcase (complete with my blankie and a stuffed animal) and marched down the hall to the living room, FULLY INTENDING TO RUN AWAY. I got as far as the living room and got sucked into an action packed episode of Sesame Street. (The SS folks ALMOST met Mr Snuffleupagus. That was HUGE!) Now, I know most kids have a time where they try and run away but I didn’t even make it further than the length of the hallway to the living room. I’m sure it became QUITE obvious to my parents that I pose absolutely no threat of major problem causing and that I could be distracted by Sesame Street.

My plan to be a Hell-Raiser was thwarted.

As much as I tried over the years, I was completely incapable of doing anything of the hell-raising variety. I may not have done everything I was told, but I never set out to do anything evil or even adventurous. Plain and simple: I was a Pansy-Ass-Mama’s-Girl. It just wasn’t possible for me to be anything else. I think I missed out on a lot of things because I was too afraid to try. I think that when I was younger, I didn’t experience what most kids do because I held myself back. To be perfectly honest, my parents didn’t push me to try new things. I think my mom unconsciously held me back from those adventures because she didn’t want me to get hurt or fail.

Sometimes you just gotta fail to be able to learn those hard life lessons that EVERYONE has to learn. It’s the law. That’s the ironic thing. I spent so much time not breaking the rules that I never learned the ever so important lessons I should have. Essentially, I broke the law…that law of childhood and adolescence.

I learned a lot of those lessons last year. Things that should’ve been experienced or learned ten years ago, I just went through. 2004 was my year of discovery and not all of those discoveries were pleasant. I made a lot of mistakes a long the way…but in a way, those mistakes are my battle wounds. I’m proud of them, in a way. For the first time in my life, I didn’t take the easy road or did what everybody thought I should do. I made decisions based on my beliefs, my judgment, and what’s best for me. I wasn’t always right…but I was the one who made the decisions… I kept my focus and moved forward.

I didn’t let that damn bird and his not-imaginary friend suck me again. I did it my way…and I did it anyway.

Can I just tell you how many CATHOLIC co-workers I explained the Epiphany to yesterday? That's just wacky. There MUST be a breakdown in the system.

Does the Pope have a comments/complaint box?

Reyes Magos

Today is the Epiphany. Growing up, I had absolutely NO CLUE what that meant since I grew up in a Mormon family and that was just something you didn't really celebrate. However, I married into a very Catholic influenced Hispanic family and gained some new traditions for my little family. Basically, (and I mean VERY basically) the Epiphany celebrates the Nativity of Jesus Christ and the visit from the Magi (the three wisemen.)

**Note: The Epiphany falls 12 days after Christmas. Most people think that "The Twelve Days of Christmas" fall before December 25...but that really isn't the case. The song that we all love to hate was actually written to help Catholic children remember their catechism. Funny, huh?

Anyway, in Mexico the Epiphany is celebrated by way of celebrating The Tres Reyes Magos (roughly translated is The Three Magic Kings) which is somewhat similar to good 'ol Saint Nick and him leaving presents for kids. The kids leave a letter in their shoes the night of January 5th and wake up to a gift from the Reyes Magos on the morning of January 6th.

Let me break this down for you: Christmas basically drains you and your pocketbook...and then only 12 days later...you are right back at it again. THANK HEAVENS its on a much smaller scale...well, at least here in The States. I'd blame the entire thing on Hallmark, but I don't think anyone would believe me. Besides, I'm actually quite pleased that my daughters share in this tradition with Hubby and our family.

And let's be honest. I get to go home and have a "get-together" with friends and family where we will cut the Rosca, a Mexican bread/pastry with little plastic baby Jesus' baked into it. If that's not excitement, I don't know what is.

Feliz dia de Los Tres Reyes Magos!!! (Happy Three Wisemen Day!)

Sarah Made Me Do This...

One of those surveys...Sarah is forcing us to this...so here we go:

3 names you go by:
1. Jill
2. JP
3. Mommy (it comes with the job.)

3 screen names you have:
1. Trouble
2. jillpill16
3. JP

3 things you like about yourself:
1. I’m a good friend
2. I love people fiercely
3. I can make people laugh

3 things you hate/dislike about yourself:
1. I’m unorganized/absentminded
2. I’m wishy-washy
3. I put my heart on the line too much

3 parts of your heritage:
1. Norwegian
2. Dutch
3. Irish/English

3 things that scare you:
1. Losing a child/something happening to my children
2. Death
3. SpongeBob Squarepants

3 of your everyday essentials:
1. Hubby
2. Paige
3. Abby

3 things you’re wearing right now:
1. Red Sweater
2. Black Slacks
3. My favorite black, Nine West boots

3 of your favorite bands/artists (today):
1. U2
2. Green Day
3. Cambio de Piel

3 of your favorite songs at present:
1. Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own (U2)
2. Break Away (Kelly Clarkson…there is NOTHING like singing that at the top of you lungs with your little girls. NOTHING)
3. Love Shack (B52s…that’s ALWAYS a favorite. Can’t help it.)

3 new things you want to try in the next 12 months:
1. Life without CHAOS
2. Keeping my desk organized (ditto to Sarah’s)
3. Be adventurous

3 things you want in a relationship (love is a given):
1. Being in love with my best friend
2. Laughter
3. Desire

2 truths and a lie:
1. I LOVE my family and friends FIERCELY
2. I hate shopping
3. I totally enjoy my mother in-law

3 physical things about a love interest that appeal:
1. Smile (heart…pitter patter)
2. Eyes
3. Arms…wrapped around me, of course.

3 things you just can’t do:
1. Stand and touch my toes. (My legs are THAT long)
2. Tan (at least not without BURNING TO A CRISP)
3. Be a part of a nudist colony (see #2…ouch!)

3 of your favorite hobbies:
1. Reading
2. Music/Playing Piano
3. Hangin’ with my kids

3 things you want to do really badly right now:
1. Go home and watch movies
2. Go to Starbucks
3. Go to Starbucks and then go home and watch movies

3 careers you’re considering:
1. Accounting (it’s what I do…)
2. Teacher
3. Writer

3 places you want to go on vacation:
1. A tropical some place with sandy white beaches …I’m not picky
2. Italy
3. Disneyland/DisneyWorld. I love that Mouse…

3 kids names (either boy or girl):
1. Paige Marie
2. Abigail Lara (Abby)
3. I’m only having two kids…#3 really isn’t necessary

3 things you want to do before you die:
1. Establish a foundation to help children in need
2. Travel
3. See my children grow as old as I possibly can

3 people who have to take this quiz now:
1. Jess
2. Jess
3. Jess After growing up with her…I SOOOO am allowed to force her to do this…;)

Have fun!!!

Just Think of Me...and I'll Be There

This morning I was filled with thoughts of my grandpa. At the time, I wasn't sure what brought the flood of memories. But my sister soon reminded me of what probably triggered it. Today is my grandpa’s birthday. He passed away two years ago, November 14th.

My siblings and I were very lucky to live only an hour away from our "favorite" grandparents. I have so many special and wonderful memories, I almost feel guilty for having so many. There were trips to their house, so many trips to the ocean, trips camping and hiking, trips to Utah to visit my aunt and then so many trips to the ocean, again.

I'm inclined to think that my great love for the ocean came from so many fun-filled trips to the ocean with my grandparents and family. We would spend HOURS building sandcastles, playing in the waves and picnicking on the beach. And then my grandpa would do what he did EVERY time we went to the beach: he drew Mickey Mouse in the sand. I'll never forget that. It was something that my grandpa did for us kids because we always got a kick out of it. There was one year that he drew Mickey so huge that he drew just as huge of a crowd watching him. It was the coolest. "THAT is MY grandpa," I thought.

The Labor Day just before he got sick, we made a family trip to the ocean. My grandparents rode with me and sat in the back seat with Abby, who was only about 5 months old. My grandpa talked and talked to Abby, made them both giggle and smile...and they made me, my sister and grandma giggle and smile. We had amazing weather that day (the northern coast is often foggy and cold) but my grandpa just wasn't his usual self that trip. He sat down a lot of the time and just watched all of us play in the waves and the sand. I don’t remember who, but someone took a picture of him. It perfectly captured the peace that he must’ve felt watching his son’s family have so much fun. I think that’s the last picture that was taken of him. How special that the last picture taken of my grandfather was the very place that gave me my most favorite memories of him.

A few weeks after that, my grandpa was diagnosed with a brain tumor so advance that they gave him only six weeks to live. And that is just about how long he did live. I only visited him in the hospital a few times, but I couldn’t do any more than that because it hurt just too bad. I wasn’t strong like my sisters. I couldn’t see my grandpa like that…it just devastated me. And the child in me wanted to remember my grandpa at the ocean…with all of us grandkids…drawing Mickey Mouse in the sand.

I miss my grandpa. I miss him making me Shirley Temples or Swedish pancakes or “stuff”. I miss him setting off the fire alarm almost every time he cooked. I miss him tearing up at the end of The Price is Right. I miss him taping Gone With the Wind off TV because he knows I love it. I miss him calling me a “young Katherine Hepburn” even thought I thought he was full of it. I miss him “getting” my nose with his thumb and fingers. I miss THE noise he made when he tickled us kids. I miss him drawing Mickey Mouse in the sand.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa. I love you bigger than the ocean.

You Don't Even Get A T-Shirt

What is it with children and bedtimes?? I REALLY don't remember fighting it like my children do. Paige is SUCH a busy body (who FINALLY knocked out that damn loose tooth tonight) and tattles on Abby for EVERYTHING. Abby (the monkey) is in constant motion and can't seem to keep her pants clean to save her life.

Here's the thing. Bedtime is my QUIET TIME. I don't get much of it and here they are trying to take it away from me. I REALLY would love to finish watching Season 3 of ALIAS...I'm almost done. The new season starts on Wednesday...just trying to be prepared. But Paige and Abby have other agendas.

Seven and two and already they're out to get me.

It truly is ironic that you go through HOURS of labor (OH...and don't forget delivery) and you still have to deal with all this crap! (Seriously...I'm off to change ANOTHER diaper.)

But here's the kicker: There are those moments that they wrap their arms around your next and make you feel like THE most important person in this world. Abby will grab my face in her hands and tell me she loves me. Paige will call out from anywhere "Love you, Mommy!" There are moments that make all of the frustration (some listed above) dissappear like they never happened. Its at these moments when you look at your children and gush "I can't believe I don't have 12 of you!!"

Of course, then you remember frustration/embarassment Paige caused in front of another parent this evening and the "present" Abby left you in the bathtub. THIS is why mothers bring up the 36 hours of labor...somehow its makes us feel better.

Well...at least it justifies why we feel that the idea of tranquilizer darts shouldn't be discarded so easily.

In the Jungle, the Mighty Jungle...

I’m not sure whether or not I should find it disturbing when my life parallels an episode (or more) of FRIENDS. My sister is the FRIENDS…freak (sorry, Sweetie!) and though I love the show, it’s a little odd to see these episodes play out. The rest of you might find it weird that I’m about to compare my youngest daughter to an animal. But let me explain:

Marcel. Ross’ pet monkey. (And really, let’s not get into why ‘they’ felt the need to write in a monkey for this show.

Abby. She is our resident monkey. (Seriously. If I hadn’t given birth to that child, I’d really begin to wonder.)

Marcel eats Scrabble tiles and is rushed to the emergency room.

Abby ate two of my “blank” charms from my bracelet. No emergency room needed. I just waited for her to poop them out.

Marcel goes through his adolescence and “violates” chairs, stuffed animals, legs, etc…

Abby dances and it looks like she’s ‘doing the dirty’ sometimes. She does have the Latin blood in her…maybe that’s just a precursor to how she’ll dance when she’s older. (She’s also been hanging out with Sarah…this could explain it.)

Marcel is obsessed with “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” song and plays it on repeat. Ross finally turns off the song and there was attitude from the monkey along with door slamming.

Abby got a board game for Christmas called “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” and while it is very cute, it plays that first several lines from that song OVER AND OVER AND OVER. Abby LOVES this game/song and will keep pushing the button for the song over and over again. There was MUCH attitude from me at seven this morning when she kept pushing that damn button. (hmmm…songs on repeat. ALSO something she must’ve picked up from Sarah. That and her love for gaudy dress-up shoes. Speaking of shoes….)

Marcel poops in Monica’s shoe while Rachel is “Monkey-Sitting.”

Abby has been known to accidentally poop in her own shoes while a babysitter was watching her. (Potty training can be a bitch, people.)

Marcel is illegal to keep as a pet. There is much mayhem when Animal Control comes to pick up the monkey. Phoebe is shot in the ass with a tranquilizer dart during the confusion and her entire left side is completely numb.

Abby causes much mayhem and there are times that a tranquilizer dart would be VERY useful. It is SEVERELY illegal to shoot your children with tranquilizer darts. There goes that plan…

Yes, I know what you're thinking....therapy IS an option. However, I opted for the blogging. Please feel free to tell me that the latter of the two just isn't enough. But please also know that I am not above shooting you with a tranquilizer dart.

Welcome 2005

I stayed up just a few more minutes (and that is saying A LOT as it is nearly three in the morning) because I'm really looking forward to this new year that is just barely three hours old. I have really big plans and goals for 2005. And if there is anything I learned from 2004 it is this: It is up to me to make these plans and goals happen. Its all on me.

I'm not saying that I don't have the love and support from my husband or family...what I'm saying is that you can't just sit around and wait for your dreams to come along. Dreams are hard work...and I'm excited for what lies ahead.

To be perfectly honest, I'm glad that 2004 is over. It was a hard year for many reasons and one that brought on a whole bunch of stuff that I wasn't ready for. It made me stronger...even if it did make my want to invest in a life's supply of prozac. (I didn't...but MAN it sounded like a good idea some days.) I'm proud of how far I've come...and I look forward to the road ahead.

So, Happy New Year, Internet. I wish nothing but the very best for you and yours...

A Little Less Conversation...

Elvis and I have a bond. Well, at least that’s what Sarah and I call it. Truth be told, I was conceived the day Elvis died.

(My mom just blurted it out one day while we were sitting around talking. The fact that I even acknowledge or articulate the fact that my parents have…$*%…let alone “celebrate” the day they did it and got me…well, it’s just another reason why I need therapy…and another reason its probably best that my mother doesn’t read my blog.)

Those of you that believe in reincarnation, perhaps you could read more into that date of my conception. I mean…I don’t play guitar…I’ve never starred in any movies…my hips REALLY don’t move like that…but damn it, I could TOTALLY be Elvis reincarnated!

Every year, on August 16th, Sarah and I give a shout out to The King and celebrate with peanut butter and banana sandwiches. (After all, she has a bond, too.) What’s funny is that Paige was almost born that exact date 20 years later. (She took her time, let’s say…even thought she was almost a month early. Whatever.) The BOND continues.

But what is even FUNNIER (and I mean so damn funny) is the fact that my mother would DIE from the fact that I’ve shared my conception date and story with the Internet.

Sorry, Mom.

Just Eat It.

This is what happens when you don’t have time to go out to lunch but are forced to eat from the vending machine. Warning: Those of you with weak stomachs…turn away.

NoNo says:
ok, i'm eating seriously the most disgusting thing...wanted easy mac...got two because i'm such a cow that i can't have just one...so there are two different colored packages...i don't think anything about it...

NoNo says:
the brown one is frickin' cheese pizza flavored mac and cheese...if i wanted cheese pizza i would have ORDERED a frickin cheese pizza!!!!

NoNo says:
imagine my shock and dismay when i poured it into my beautiful bowl of easy mac...

Trouble says:
LMAO!!!!!!!!

NoNo says:
you know, the classic, should have made just one then and ONLY then if I was still hungry have another one...but NO, have to have BOTH RIGHT NOW.

NoNo says:
i don't think my dog would even eat this shit...

Trouble says:
LOL!!

NoNo says:
when you get a sec, you have to come over here and look and smell it...it's just so wrong

Trouble says:
i will look....i refuse to smell

NoNo says:
you won't be able to help it...it's overpowering

Trouble says:
Damn…I'm in no mood to throw up

NoNo says:
i'm surprised you can't smell it from there

Trouble says:
oh, sweetie...i'm so very sorry!!!!

NoNo says:
that's ok...i think it's a sign...cows shouldn't have 2 mac and cheeses...

Thursday...

It is 10:15, I'm sitting at my desk and I am just now taking off my scarf and jacket. I live in Northern California. It gets cold…but not THAT cold.

No, what this proves is how easily distracted I am.

Oh look, my highlighter…

Christmas?

Once again it is time to gather together with my lovely family and celebrate the season that is Christmas. Once again I am reminded why Prozac was invented and am really beginning to wonder how I can get some. (Hubby has an uncle in Mexico who’s a pharmacist…I should really look into this.) Having said all that, this really has nothing to do with my family. Or even Hubby’s family. It’s just the very fact that I’ve been doing A LOT lately and have some “extra” drama that has plagued the past couple of weeks.

Stick a fork in me – I’m done.

My original plan was to leave work early on Wednesday and then have the rest of the week off and Monday, too. Let’s just start off with the fact that me leaving early (was supposed to be NOON) turned out to me leaving at five minutes to five. My blood pressure was NOT where it should have been at that point. Thank Bob I had such a FUN evening planned with some of my friends from work and Sarah and Kaycee. Talk about your Holiday Cheer, people. I mean REALLY.

I had all the plans of things to do while I was off work. And what I’m going to tell you is this: I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT I DID ON THURSDAY. And I wish that I could say that I was under the influence of Prozac or some mind altering drug, but I have to be honest that it was just BUSY and bits and pieces of it are allowed to surface in my mind every now and then. (Like just right now I remember making cookies/treats with the kids. Remind me NOT to do that next year.)

Friday we spent a lot of time getting ready for the family party to be held at our house for Hubby’s side of the family. Every year I am blessed to not have to deal with the struggle of who we will spend our time with. Hubby’s family celebrates on Christmas Eve and my family celebrates on Christmas Day. Good times. (And let’s face it, those Mexicans know how to party.) But most importantly: MY MOTHER IN-LAW COOKS ON CHRISTMAS EVE! You all should really find a small Mexican woman to cook for you. You’ll love it.

Christmas morning was spent with my family and the very methodical opening of presents. (You take turns…youngest to oldest…one present at a time. You get the picture.) And this is the time where I tell you that I got what I wanted because I rigged Christmas this year. We draw names with the siblings and spouses only this year we didn’t draw names, we picked….and this was kinda my idea. But c’mon…if you REALLY wanted a new pair of sneakers and your brother in-law works for Nike…wouldn’t you rig Christmas too? I thought so. My mom also asked what Hubby and I wanted for Christmas and I really only told her what I wanted for Christmas (ALIAS Season 3) and I really don’t feel all that bad about the fact that that’s what we got because Hubby secretly loves that dang show JUST as much as I do. I’m sure of it.

Christmas Night we altered things ever so slightly and agreed to go to Mass with the In-Laws. Now, I have NOTHING against Christmas Mass (even though it’s all in Spanish at this parish) or the fact that I do this for my mother in-law (she cooks, I go to Mass…it all washes in the end, right?) but how hard is it to go to Mass with ABBY??? Let me tell you:

First of all, I would like to let you all know that I now have yet another reason why there are special places in Hell for parents who don’t teach their two-year olds about them NOT HAVING THE AUTHORITY TO BAPTIZE THEMSELVES WITH THE HOLY WATER PLACED AT ALL THE ENTRANCES TO THE CHURCH!!!! Or should I blame the Catholic Church for having the Holy Water in such a place to where Abby can reach and completely drench herself??? All I know is that I’m sitting in the “Crying Room” with my little family (the sound proof room for people with children like mine) when all of a sudden Abby sprints to the Holy Water (dish?) and SPLASHES her hand into it then rubs it ALL OVER HER HEAD AND FACE.

Paige thinks I don’t have Godparents because I’m white…and it is at this time when this white mother (Enter JP) rushes over to rescue Abby from Eternal Damnation amid glares from people who surely have taught their children that you DO NOT BATHE in the Holy Water during Christmas Mass. Perhaps that is a lesson you learn from your Godparents...and alas, I am white and don't have a Godparent to call my own.

And while I’m not Catholic...(remember I'm white with no Godparents) I'm sure Abby and I will be forgiven (I hope) and the Father will allow Abby and I to step foot into that parish again. However, what I'm not sure of is whether or not I have to go to confession now. Perhaps that lesson will be learned next Christmas.

One can only hope.

In My Mind

Things that are on my mind...don't say that I didn't warn you:

The drama at work continues. And while it no longer (exactly) affects me directly, it still makes me sick to my stomach. What also makes me sick to my stomach is that the BIGGEST SHIT STIRRER of them all is someone who proclaims to be a “Person of God.” And I just don’t think that God is hip to their ideas. I’m just saying.

I HATE “People of God” who are COMPLETE ASSHOLES.

I used to have this friend. We grew apart…and it’s not because I didn’t try. I found out some things about this friend over the weekend. Things that made me have so many different feelings; there is no way I could write them down. Bottom line is I feel like a jerk that I cared so much for this person.

I HATE feeling like a jerk.

Me and my other GoGo pals were FABULOUS entertainment of Friday at my company’s Christmas Party. So fun. However, my co-worker George STOLE the show as a drunk Dean Martin singing “That’s Amore”…spilling “water” and all.

I HATE that George was better than us.
(No I don’t, I’m just following the pattern of the other topics. I LOVE George!)

I am centimeters away from having a COMPLETE meltdown and really trying not to. There are so many sad things in this world…me being overwhelmed should not cause all of this. And yet it does. I am just not sure how to fit in all that I need to do. I just moved last weekend…Christmas is only a few days away and I’m not done shopping. My desk looks like the Paper Monster THREW UP all over my desk. ALL OVER.

I HATE the Paper Monster. I also HATE stress.

I had THREE Christmas parties this weekend. Two of them were at my new house!! I’m barely moved in to this house where these parties are happening…and I’m crazy enough to go along with the plans of my family. CRAZY I tell you. I wanted to crawl up to my room last night and just cry. I’m so very tired (3 late parties will do that to you) and I’m not sure that I can handle one more thing. Is that weak of me? Because I feel like it is. I feel like there are people in this world that deal with things that my mind can’t even fathom. There are people that deal with life threatening situations, illnesses, persecution and heartache beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. There are people in this world who don’t know what peace is…who aren’t even “allowed” to celebrate Christmas and would LOVE to spend it in a beautiful brand new home with family and loved ones around.

I HATE feeling so shallow.

Its time for some hot cocoa or cookie…or baklava from Harry and David. The good news is I did NOT get crap from my Secret Santa this morning for the first of three days of gifts.

I LOVE not getting crap from Secret Santa.

Shopping with Abby...Need I Say More??

As we all know, my company Christmas party is tonight. And while yes, this is a night of fun for me and my co-workers. It is also a time when I spend HOURS getting ready. (No snide comments from gentlemen readers that have an opinion of women getting ready.) As of last night, my outfit was not complete. (Yes, I am VERY good at waiting until the last minute, but please remember that I have been moving to a new house for the past week and a half. A little slack, huh?)

Anyway, I also happened to be out of a particular make-up item and resigned myself that I would have to make a trip to the closest mall. Some of you may balk at a mall trip right after work with all the holiday-after-work-shoppers. But let me tell you it is even BETTER than all that.

I WENT TO THE MALL WITH ALL THE HOLIDAY-AFTER-WORK-SHOPPERS WITH ABBY!!!!

Do I have your pity now? Just curious. If not, let me just tell you that I was traveling with a two year old that looks like something of the Island of Misfit Toys. She INSISTED on wearing her new, sparkly pink rubber boots with her little sweat-suit and rain jacket. She looked like the child that I swore I would never have.

I’d like to tell you that as we went to the four or five stores that Abby stood right next to me and held my hand while I searched for a top. For the first four stores I insisted on holding Abby’s hand…and ever ten steps our so she would do that “Dead Drop” that little kids do so well that nearly yanks your arm (and theirs) from the socket. Then, if I picked her up because she wasn’t following directions, those damn boots would slide off her feet and we would have to stop to put them back on. During this time, I’m also trying to prevent Abby from bopping the other shoppers on their shoulders or legs and saying “Hello! What you doin’ here?” Like she had any right to know. One time, she actually said the words: “HEY. LOOK AT ME!” to a total stranger. Only it sounded like: “HEY! LOOKAME!” And really, there was never any concern that any of those other shoppers were NOT looking at her.

Finally, I ended up at Macy’s. It’s where I had to pick up the make-up…and I actually found something halfway decent to wear to the party. It is also where I temporarily went insane and let go of my child’s hand. You would have thought that I had just let her out of a kennel. She literally PRANCED around, weaving in and out of racks of clothes looking as though she was tossing flowers or pixie dust in the air. Well, it was really clothes OFF the rack, but whatever. I was so done with the entire shopping process, I just didn’t give a care. This is why they pay those employees, right? I mean, they were so not helpful in my plight, the least they could do was clean up after Abby. It was only fair. (I’m sensing some pity, right?) By the time I had tried on a couple of shirts (in between creative attempts to keep her from opening the door while I was not dressed and her trying to crawl under the door and wall) I was not looking very fabulous at all. And isn’t it always the luck that when you’re going to pick up make-up you are looking ALL hagged out so the people at the counter think that you must buy their expensive makeup and give it to the homeless…because it certainly doesn’t look like you’re wearing it. I could tell that the MAC-girl really didn’t find me MAC-worthy and was about to turn me away.

But then she saw Abby.

She saw my child that looked like she came straight off that Island of Misfit Toys and she knew. It all became clear and the understanding was there. The holiday spirit overcame her (not to mention Abby’s distracting charm) and she LET ME buy the overpriced make-up in hopes that it might improve my hagged out appearance and calm the beast inside of that child dressed all in sparkly pink. And really, one can hope.

Now, if you are feeling no pity whatsoever, it is either because you have NO HEART or because you have a child like Abby and are thinking that I’m the stupidest woman alive for taking her shopping. And if it’s the latter of the two…I am REALLY inclined to agree with you.

JP True Non-Hollywood Story

Things that happen to me because I am JP:

1. I will gesture with an M&M in my hand and somehow it will be FLYING accross the room.

2. I'm banned from salad making because when I "TOSS" the salad...I really mean it. I spend more time on clean-up then anything else

3. I have permanent bruises on my legs/thighs from running into the corner of my bed or desk. Hubby swears that people must think he beats me.

4. My first two incidents of driving when I got my licence where me side-swiping parked cars or fences or mailboxes. I am just that good.

5. My last birthday was celebrated moreso by Hubby, his uncle and his dad when they smash my face in my cake when I leaned over to blow out the candles. My children were mortified.

6. I REPLY to e-mails instead of FORWARDING e-mails. Again, I am THAT good.

7. I really shouldn't walk and chew bubble gum. Its not recommended.

8. I ruin my daughter's life on a daily basis without even trying.

9. I walk by someone's desk downstairs and all of a sudden I'm the office B*TCH...and I wasn't even involved with this someone's drama...

10. I don't have godparents because I'm WHITE.

11. I stubbed my toe yesterday while flushing the toilet (with my foot) because I already had started washing my hands and didn't want to dirty them once more. I am THAT coordinated. AND...

12. I just learned at lunch today that my "Lip Syncing" performance will be "captured" for all of my decendents to see AND it is too late to back out. I am SOOOO excited.

True Story...

My company’s Christmas party is on Friday. I always have TONS of fun…I work with some AWESOME people. This year me and two of my co-workers (Noelle and Pam) have been asked to lip-sync right before all the dancing and hoopla start after dinner.

Yes…you know what this will mean.

There will be serious tricks to get me on that “stage” that night, let me tell you. SERIOUS TRICKS. I may have to wear sunglasses and close my eyes because as we all know, if I can’t see them…THEY CAN’T SEE ME.

We’ve been debating about what song we’re going to do that night. Its gone from AC/DC to Guns N Roses and now we’ve settled on “Our Lips Are Sealed” by the GoGo’s. After all that’s gone on in this office lately…this is more appropriate than I can fully divulge. And so damn humorous to me and Noelle and can’t even stand it.

So, as Noelle and I are discussing our new and FINAL song choice, we tell Katie that we’ve picked a new song.

“Yeah? What is it??”

“Our Lips Are Sealed.”

“Awww…I don’t even get to know?”

And really…we couldn’t have planned it any better. And while its not all that funny…its like something out of a cheesy sitcom, Noelle and I laughed so hard…which will be NOTHING like how hard we will laugh on Friday night while we pretend to sing a song and pretend all those people aren’t looking at us.

I may not be able to show my face at the office for awhile. I wonder if the sunglasses idea will work there, too.

Okay...Just One...and Then I Have to Work.

SO...driving home last night, Paige hears on the radio that The Princess Diaries 2 will go on sale today. She gets excited.

"But Mom...then I'll be asking Santa for two movies."

"Oh really? What other movie will you be asking for?"

"The Incredibles."

"Oh, Sweetie...I don't think the Incredibles will be out by Christmas."

"MOM. Santa makes his own stuff. He doesn't buy it at the store."

"Yes, Paige...but even Santa has to abide by the rules of Disney."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind...."

And really...this whole Santa thing? NOT AS EASY AS IT LOOKS.

Introducing...

Check out my family... Is there really any wonder as to why I'm called The Nanny? I thought not...

Letter to Abby: Two Years, Eight Months

Dear Abigail,

For over two and a half years you have blessed our family with such LIFE that I can’t imagine it any other way. I was so excited while I was pregnant with you. You should’ve seen Grammie the day Paigie told them all I was pregnant. Grammie says we could’ve knocked her over with a feather she was so surprised. Not that we blame her, we kept telling everyone we weren’t having another baby because, well…people JUST KEPT ASKING! I knew during my entire pregnancy that you were going to be SO different from your sister. I couldn’t have been more correct. You two are like night and day. And I LOVE it.

I can’t believe how fast time has gone by. But as I have learned from day one, it is ALL about your plans, your agenda. You call the shots and the rest of us are here as your back up. Your timeline still keeps me reeling. You held you head up before we even left the hospital. You smiled at only a few weeks old. You turned over and crawled all in your fourth month. You climbed out of your bed at five months. You walked at nine months.

You can see why your dad and I are so tired.

I marvel at your energy. I wish I could bottle it up and sell it because I’m thinking that it would be more powerful than ANY caffeinated beverage. All of us get tired just watching you…let alone following you around. We will ALL be happier when you’re old enough for sports…you just need an outlet for all that ACTION! Well, and I’ll just tell you that you dribble a soccer ball almost as good as your sister. Watch out!

You have spunk that is the envy of most adults I know. You tell it like it is in your Spanglish and it is your way or the highway. You even resort to brute force when things aren’t going your way. Your dad and I are working to channel that energy in a more positive light. So far the biting has stopped (knock on wood) now if we can only control the hitting, scratching and pulling of hair. (Your sister’s hair is NOT as thick as it once was.) You make it known when you are not happy. You don’t hold back one bit. We all know who the boss is.

YOU.

This summer, at a baseball game, you were playing with Paige over behind the bleachers by the water fountain. As I was watching at a “safe” distance, a little girl, probably older than Paige, started to scold you and boss you around.

This did not go over well.

If ever I saw a “go to hell” look, it was right then. You raised your little eyebrows, SHOVED the girl OUT OF YOUR WAY and proceeded to the water fountain. And I didn’t even make you apologize. That other little girl was asking for it. I mean really. Besides, I’m so proud of you for already holding your own. That took me YEARS…and I’m still not all that good at it.


You love Stewart Little. I’m not sure what it is about that little mouse, but he cracks you up. You also love all the Disney/Pixar creations…those are your favorites. Just recently we took you and Paige to see The Incredibles. You LOVED it. Even your wiggle-worm self sat still for most of the movie. It’s probably good that we were forced to sit in the very front row as in the middle of the movie you just HAD to get up and do a little jig and shake those ants out of your pants. (Well, and spill almost an entire large tub of popcorn…and smash it with your feet because it made such a great noise.) You loved The Incredibles so much that we made several trips to McDonald's to find the Jack Jack toy you wanted so much. (You have NO idea what I did to get those toys.) It has been over a month and you still carry Mr. Incredible and Jack Jack around like a security blanket.

Speaking of blankets…you have an undeniable love for blankies. Most kids have one, or even two. You would have zillions if we let you. When I was pregnant with you I got several packages of receiving blankets. It must have been preordained because you love them like they are a part of your family. You will open the linen closet and CLIMB to the fourth shelf to get as many blankies as you can before I catch you.

And now we really should discuss your climbing. My child, you are monkey. No, I don’t think you get this…YOU. ARE. A. MONKEY. Plain and simple. You may look like a beautiful, normal child, but somehow you morph into a monkey when we’re not looking. Well, even sometimes when we are looking. You first made your climbing debut just before you turned six months old. I cannot even explain the feeling of running into your room at your cries and NOT seeing you in your crib. And there you sat…on the floor. It was all down hill from there. Your dad and I tried MANY tricks to keeping you in your bed. Apparently the joke’s on us. Always.

Abby, I really don’t know if I can explain the love I have for you. There is NOTHING like holding you and you laying your head on my shoulder. It makes my heart melt EVERY time you do. You are always GO, GO, GO…when you take time out for a cuddle…I’m a sucker every time. I love it that you tell me “I wanna carry you” every time you want me to pick you up. I love it when you sing Hubastank. I love it when you walk down the hall to my room nearly every (early) morning half asleep, after putting on those gaudy dress-up shoes and grabbing your million blankies, and climbing in bed with me. How when I try to put you on the outside so as to not disturb your day, I love how you point to the middle of the bed and say, “No…here.” I love it how you call Paige “Gigi” and how you will hug her and say “Love you, Gigi.” I love that you and Paige will sit and play with my hair. I love your Eskimo kisses and huge bear hugs. I love how you greet me at the door when I pick you up after work and the excitement in your face makes me turn into butter. “IT’S MOMMY!” you say… and I LOVE that. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE being your mommy. I’m hooked.

Pondering

Sarah brought up an interesting point about wondering if you’ve shared “too much.” I think as person who writes, you wage a constant battle with yourself with HOW MUCH to share. For some people, this battle is almost non-existent. For others, it’s a HUGE battle. For me?

It’s a full-scale war.

And maybe that statement wasn’t totally true. There are things that I LOVE to write about. There are things that happen in my life that make writing somewhat easy.

Writing about funny happenings with my kids or family? Easy. Writing about crazy co-workers or people? Easy. Writing about the special people in my life…even when they probably don’t want me to? Easy. Writing about how someday I want to buy me some boobs? SO EASY.

However, when I really need to spill my guts…when I need to bare my soul, I find that it really is not so easy. I think that I’m not really honest with myself about things that go on inside of me. I think that because I’m not honest with myself about these things I can’t be honest to friends and family that hold me in a different light.

I cannot stand the thought of people knowing the REAL ME.

You’d think that I was a serial killer or bank robber or a child abuser. But I’m not.

I’m just JP. And my real name is Jill. Imagine that.

I’m a good person. I’m not perfect, but I’m good. I’m a good wife and mother. I’m not perfect, but I’m good. I’m a good friend, co-worker, employee, driver, citizen and pet owner. I’m not perfect, but I’m good. (okay, so no, at this present time I don’t have any pets…but when I do…I’m GOOD at it.)

For so long, I felt that everyone needed me to be perfect. And maybe they did. Either way, I’ve put so much pressure on myself for as long as I can remember, that when I actually made what I thought was a HUGE mistake…I could never forgive myself. I’m so much closer to actually doing just that than I ever thought possible.

This year had been a year of learning. Learning about who I really am. I’m learning that I’m not the same person I used to be. I’m also learning that’s okay. Someday I will be okay with people knowing the “real me” and all that comes with that. But for now, I’m just focusing on JP (Jill) and my family...oh, and that job promotion that I applied for.

I should probably stop blogging at work...

Lucky Boobs??

So, as Rebecca pointed out from my last post...the Lucky Lip Plumper can be a really good thing. Now, what I would like to know is this:

DO THEY HAVE SOMETHING LIKE THIS TO APPLY TO YOUR CHEST???

I would LOVE to get me a little of that...

Lucky Lips

I just received an e-mail for "The only NATURAL Lip Plumper."

And really, all of you out there using the completely unnatural stuff should really knock it off.

Un Problemo

The problem is when you put in earplugs to drown out your loud, obnoxious co-workers you all of a sudden are VERY aware of how loud swallowing actually is.

Letter to Paige...Seven years, Four months

I'm "borrowing" this idea from Dooce on writing letters to my girls. This is my letter to Paige...Abby's letter will follow in a day or two. (Remember I'm in the middle of moving, people.)

Dear Paige,

I am, perhaps, a bit late at starting this tradition but am writing you, my precious Paige, a letter about how special you are to me and your dad. How you’ve touched our lives and made it THAT much better. I can’t even begin to tell you how much you amaze me. You are only seven years old and you are so much smarter than me BUT I will NEVER admit this to you. (Although, it would appear that you remind me of my lack of intelligence on a daily basis.) Your teacher is THE person on this planet who knows absolutely everything and I suppose that’s okay. It takes A LOT of pressure off me.

From the time you were very little, you were a “gifted” child. You were so very precise and so conscientious. You hated to get dirty…except for at Grammie’s. For some reason, Grammie’s dirt was okay and legal. You were so very shy and meek. Your teachers from your first year of preschool would be so excited if you said even one word to them. You were the “word police” just as soon as you learned the words which were not acceptable in our home. For some reason, “SHUT UP” was your hot button. You would scold perfect strangers for saying that forbidden phrase…and boy did they get the “what for” from tiny you.

You LOVE music and Girl, you can dance. You’ve got that Latin rhythm, my child…and I just can’t tell you how happy that makes me. (You’ve also got that AWESOME Latin skin tone…but we’ll talk about that later.) From the time you could walk, and even before, you and I danced. We would “get our groove on” for hours at a time. Our unofficial song is “Sugar, Sugar” or pretty much any other song on the “Now and Then” Soundtrack. You were also a HUGE Dixie Chicks fan at two. I remember going to the DC concert and you being so BITTER (at TWO!!) that you couldn’t go too. We brought you back a damn cool T-shirt though. It was so large for a two-year old but you still have it and can still wear it at seven years of age. Money well spent for a child that loves music just as much as her mom and dad. You can actually pick out Guns N Roses songs from the radio because that’s Dad’s favorite band of all time. Dad’s band periodically plays “Sweet Child of Mine” and you know almost all the words by heart and will sing along. I love it. You so, totally rock!

DUDE! You are so undeniably stubborn. And boy, do you gots it bad. Unfortunately, you have two very stubborn parents and therefore you had no chance in hell at not being stubborn. I suppose you could call it a curse, of sorts. But it is mostly a curse for me!

YOU. DO. NOT. CAVE.

You will get an idea in your head and you will NOT let go of it. For examply, you have this idea in your head that you are completely incapable of writing a story with all of your spelling words for the week. I hate Monday night homework for this reason. But, I’ve gotta tell you, you are a G.A.T.E. identified student…YOU ARE PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF COMPLETING THIS HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT! However, you have it in your head that you cannot do it. And as I just said, the stubbornness (that you mostly get from your dad) prevents you from actually seeing that you CAN DO IT. We’re working on this.

You are a FABULOUS older sister to Abby. I will NEVER forget the day Abby was born and you were brought to the hospital to meet your new sister. You were four and a half years old and I could just see how your eyes lit up when you first saw your sister. Our little family was changing from how you knew it and you still welcomed her into this world with such love. We had all waited so eagerly together…Daddy had played the guitar and we would sing to her when she was in my tummy. We’d sing the same song each night to see if she would recognize it when she was born. (We’re still not sure if she did/does.) I do remember how worried you were, at one point, that your dad and I could only love Abby. I sat on your bed that night and cried the tears of a mother who could never ever have you think I didn’t love you THIS much.

Paige, your smile. People have commented (not necessarily complimented) on my smile. But Paige, your smile can brighten up the darkest days. It has a healing power that just can’t even be explained. When you smile, your entire face lights up and sings to the world. You know, it is that smile that is proof that you are actually mine. You look like your dad…plain and simple. But that smile, at least, can be traced back to your mama. Thank heavens. I’m not just the nanny!

Speaking of which, when you were little (and even still to this day) no one who didn’t know us would believe that you were mine. Again, you look so much like your father so when the three of us were together it could be assumed that I was your mother. But when it was just the two of us, or shopping with Dad’s family, people always assumed you belonged to someone else. That’s okay, though…I knew you were mine. All mine. Okay yes, I do share you with your dad and the rest of our family and friends, but deep down I am quite selfish. YOU ARE MINE.

Paige, I have a fear. I have fear that someday soon you’re going to “do the math” or look at the pictures and figure out that you actually attended your dad’s and my wedding. My fear is not that you’ll find out about it…my fear is that you will think that you were a mistake. I don’t know how to stress enough that you are NOT a mistake. Perhaps it is best described as a timing issue...it may have been better to wait, yes. But I knew from the moment I first felt you inside me that you were a special little miracle. I knew that you were supposed to be mine. That even though God also thought our timing was a little…a little off, He still trusted me to be your mom. I will always, ALWAYS be so incredibly grateful for that. I will ALWAYS be so incredibly grateful for YOU…you sweet child of mine.

Love, Mommy

The Questions That Linger

The question is: How can I possibly still be the Big Bad Witch after Paige gets to go to the movies with friends to see "The Incredibles" (again) get TOTALLY sugared up on soda, candy and popcorn and then goes throught detox on my shift.

Saying "No" to the cookies that were served after her Second Grade play tonight was for her own good, dammit!!!

I'm Rubber, You're Glue...

Some very mean things were said about me today by someone I used to work with and someone I still work with. This is not a usual thing for me. I’m a person that gets along with everyone, I try to avoid drama, and I genuinely like pretty much everyone. What’s funny about today’s situation is that I wasn’t even involved in the drama that lead up to the “name calling” situation. (Have a warped back in time to High School? Good gravy! I can’t believe I’m actually writing about this.) What is also funny, these people have no idea that their e-mail session was intercepted by a close friend of mine (ND) who they also talked smack about. (Another example of how e-mail is THE DEVIL!) The third part of this situation that I find funny is that my feelings are not hurt in any way, shape or form. I thought these people were my friends, but, call me crazy, this is not how I treat my friends.

Like I said before, I wasn’t even involved in the any part of the situation that lead up to the name calling. ND is the supervisor to the “current employee” and there was a situation between the two of them this morning. Somehow, me coming downstairs and looking for someone placed me on the “other” team and I instantly became an enemy. I was COMPLETELY oblivious to my apparent involvement and yet I was out to get this person. What a bitch I turned out to be! I almost expected to hear “GIRL FIGHT!! as a group of people surrounded us, waiting for the action. OH. MY. WORD.

To make a long story short, ND intercepted the e-mail, was crushed, was angry for me at the things that were said about me, and was just so disturbed at how someone could be so unprofessional and so hurtful.

However, I am starting to find it so incredibly amusing that it happened at all. I find it so interesting that adults, and I use that term loosely, can be so…so DUMB. Can’t we all just get along?

But what can I say…she started it.

A Blogging Miracle!

I have just witnessed my first blogging miracle...and folks, MY COMMENTS ARE BACK! Apparently I have little elves that fix my blog while I'm asleep. This excites me. It DOES frighten me slightly, as I have NO idea how they were fixed...but I've let my excitement override the fear.

Thank you my wonderful blogging elves! I adore you!

The Questions That Linger

The question is: How can I already be ruining Paige's life when she's only seven? This disturbs me.

It also is eerie (although quite amusing!) that I have THAT MUCH POWER!

(Insert Evil laugh here...)

You'd Better Watch Out, You'd Better Not Cry

People…I just ROYALLY F’d up….yesterday I REPLIED to an e-mail rather than FORWARD said e-mail…and ALMOST said something not nice about the person I REPLIED to. Instead it was a cryptic message that the person didn’t get at all. (And if you’re confused by this…I really don’t care ‘cause I’m ranting and raving.) So the person calls me confused about this e-mail I just sent…and thank heavens I wasn’t at my desk so it just went to voicemail…because had they talked to me at any length they would’ve figured out what had happened. So instead I shot an e-mail to them today apologizing for the cryptic message…and I “explained” what I meant. (Can you say MAJOR BACKPEDDALING???) She didn't know the difference!!! I cannot express enough relief that this person's last day is Friday.

Somehow, people…somehow I escaped serious penalties for my INCREDIBLE STUPIDITY!!! And when you stop being shocked that I’m not F-I-R-E-D…now I’ll tell you that I’m applying for a promotion. Folks, it just doesn’t get any better than this. I’m convincing my superiors that I am FABULOUS…when apparently I’m just really stupid.

Sarah Marinara finds this immensely funny. This is, of course, because it did not happen to her.

This Is What I Do

Sometimes IM conversations are just too funny NOT to share. Today Sarah Marinara was helping me come up with hobbies for my Secret Santa wish list...which I HATE to fill out. Both of us use nicknames given to us by Aidan for our our IM names...Obviously, I'm Trouble:

Trouble says: what are my hobbies?
Trouble says: i have to fill out this secret santa thing... lol
Sexy says: well in that case I'd say: soft core porn, pilates and gay bars
Trouble says: LOL!!! I so want to put totally off the wall crap!!!
Sexy says: i DEFINENTLY think you need to put Tequilala
Sexy says: whoa... have *I* been drinking? you'd think so with my spelling
Trouble says: LOL! I want to put things that are SO not me...mixed with things that are me...
Trouble says: skydiving, running with the bulls, you get the idea...
Sexy says: nice... i say go for it
Trouble says:i need some more...please help
Sexy says: i insist that you throw something sexual in there
Trouble says: i dunno if I can...its WORK!
Trouble says:Stripping, maybe?
Sexy says: I think that is COMPLETELY appropriate
Trouble says: flaming zambocas?... what is it?
Sexy says: flaming sambuca's
Trouble says: lmoa
Trouble says:so close
Sexy says: yet so far
Trouble says: k…need more hobbies, please
Sexy says: okay... hobbies…live music
Trouble says:oh...knife throwing
Sexy says: fine dining, cheap wine
Sexy says: paper airplanes, movies, bagels
Sexy says: being electrocuted
Sexy says: turning tricks
Trouble says: LOL…. I'm so full on giggling over here
Sexy says: the ancient art of kung fu
Sexy says: wicca
Trouble says: what's that?
Sexy says: its a form of witchcraft
Trouble says: LOL…no one will get that...PERFECT!
Sexy says: you could just put "being burned at the stake", that might be easier
Trouble says: LOL, no...I like wicca
Trouble says: que mas?
Trouble says: speaking in tongues!
Sexy says: pimping
Trouble says: LMAO
Sexy says: good one!
Sexy says: digging ditches, licking envelopes
Sexy says: drug lord
Trouble says: Drug AND Tupperware dealing!! LOL
Sexy says:yes! I like that as the two really DO go together you know
Trouble says: i've got tears streaming down my face
Sexy says: I mean... where else are ya gonna store your smack? Lord knows you're not gonna trust some store bought "gladwear" or what have you... that stuff’s going in your NOSE for the love

(Insert pause here as "Touble" walks away to compose herself)

Trouble says: i seriously had to walk away to calm down. I was laughing THAT hard
Sexy says: LMAO
Sexy says: that is AWESOME!
Trouble says: kinda embarrassing, have to say...
Trouble says: the drugs in tupperware still gets me
Sexy says: seriously... I love that I can crack you up like that…that's just funny
Sexy says: i mean... how could you NOT laugh
Trouble says: it really is so funny
Trouble says: i truly hope that I can return the favor someday...
Sexy says: oh... you crack me up on a DAILY basis... fear not
Trouble says: okay...so when I blog about all of this, do you care if i use your 'real' name? LOL There really are no innocent to protect.

And really, it will be my own dang fault if I get crap from my Secret Santa...

I Smell Trouble...

Sir Aidan gave me the nickname of Trouble awhile ago…and it stuck. I’ve had nicknames over the years; JP being the most used for most my life. (Shocker!) However, I’ve been called many things. “Teacher’s Pet”, “Goody-Two-Shoes” (however you spell it), “Polly-Prude”…you get the point. I was always the good little girl that never did anything wrong. And while, I still don’t exactly walk on the “wild” side (at least not without shoes on) I’m not the same person I used to be.

I’m not better…I’m not worse. I’m just different. And I really think that’s the point of it all.

So when Sir Aidan jokingly gave me the nickname (or maybe not so jokingly!) I took it and ran with it. Even though those who are nearest to me wouldn’t really describe me as “Trouble” (well...not to my face) I think its fun for me know that I could be BIG Trouble…if I wanted to be.

Besides, it is much better than “Crack-Whore” which is what JJD calls me on a regular basis.

You may or may not agree.

Socks Only

People...escrow has closed...we have the keys...we are done. Well, it is now time for me to move AGAIN. But whatever.

Last night, everyone got a little excited and we all headed for the new house. (Can't remember if I mentioned that we're buying this house with my in-laws and I'm too lazy to go back and check other posts. Yes, I realized there are only about 20. Don't hate.) I happen to be the first to reach the house (my commute is NOTHING, people!!) and opened up the house, turned on lights, etc. Hubby calls and says "I hope you found the key, because we have an entire posse headed you that way." So in a moments time, there are, like, 15 people at this house. Seven of those people being children.

Yeah.

The ultimate chaos that ensued is almost not even possible to explain. Paige, being the oldest AND the co-ring-leader (with Michael) are leading this group of kids to a point of excitement that is usually reserved for when CUPS of sugar are consumed in one sitting.

INSANITY to the NINTH POWER.

There's a not-so-little cupboard in the entryway, that heads under the stairs, which is a perfect "clubhouse" for the Possesed Children's Club. How perfect it is that we have SEVEN possessed children?!

Now, if only there was a way to LOCK the cupboard...

Not that I would. Intentionally. For very long.

The Day After

On the day after my oldest sister celebrated her 30th birthday….and on the same day that Sarah Marinara blogs about said sister…I thought this would be a good time to “introduce” my sisters. I have two of them - one older (JBW), one younger (JJD). I also have two younger brothers (JAK1 & JAK2 – yes, they have the same initials)…but we’ll get to the typical and not-so-typical teenage boys another time.

The first thing you MUST know about my sisters is that I love them dearly. We are so different in so many ways, but they are two of THE most fantastic people to walk the planet. The second thing you must know is that we HATED one another when were younger yet still managed to grow up and be best good friends/sisters. The time I spend with those two is cherished. Yes, I had to resort to cheesiness to get my point across.

For the past couple of years, JBW has been dreading her 30th birthday. The fact that “FRIENDS” ended and the 30th birthday happened all in the same year…I’m just pleased that she’s alive and kicking. Seriously. The teasing that came forth ever since JBW vocalized her dread of the big 3-0 from me and my siblings increased as the days went by. That’s what’s beautiful about my family…we smell fear and we ATTACK. Thanksgiving, with the 30+ people at my mom’s house brought MANY jokes, teasing and public humiliation for my sister. Okay, ‘public humiliation’ was harsh but it IS amazing that she survived the year(s) of razzing…not to mention this past weekend.

We are THAT mean.

However, the day after JBW turned 30…I’ve been pondering the love I have for the older sister I have. For the BOSS that never let us get away with anything when we were younger. For the Second Mom the four of us had, whether we wanted one or not. For the “cool” sister that took me along for the ride with her and her friends, once in awhile. (Even when she was the BIG Senior in High School…and I was the not-so-big 8th Grader. Was that NOT cool of her???) For the sister I dreaded when I was younger to the sister I just COULD NOT do without now that we’re grown. My life is what it is because I have these TWO wonderful sisters who I share so much with. (And who also give me grief for never being on time…what can I say, IT’S MY JOB!)

So…once JBW reads Sarah’s site and once she puts herself BACK in the chair she was formally sitting in, I hope she’ll head over here and read how much she’s loved…not just ridiculed. Both are equally fun.

The Land that is Disney…and oh, so much more

This past summer our family made THE trip to Disneyland. Now, the last time I was there, the ONLY other time I was there, I was eight months pregnant with Paige…and she decided to join us four days later, nearly a month before her due date. Something about Disneyland and Southern California was VERY appealing to Paige. She HAD to be born there. I guess you could say there’s somewhat of a bond. At only four days old, she took her first plane ride to take us back home to Northern California. Talk about stories to tell.

Nearly seven years later, it was time to make that trip again. We purchased the Three-Day Flex passed between Disneyland and California Adventure and SUCH and amazing time. Even Abby behaved herself. Our family is the walking advertisement for the perfect Disney vacation. The poster children, if you will, for The Happiest Place on Earth. It was our first family vacation besides visiting family…it was also a time where Paige and I both experienced Disneyland for the first time. Yes, I had technically been there before…but c’mon. Eight months pregnant? Need I say more? Plus, all of us experienced California Adventure together for the first time. And THAT, my friends, is a FUN park as well. Paige and I wanted to find a way that we could actually MOVE IN to Disneyland…we’re still plotting. We’ve ALMOST got it figured out…It’s a Small World. That’s all I’ll say.

At one of our lunches, Hubby and I were having a religious-type discussion about Abby and the possibility of her being baptized. Yes, I realize that she’s two…don’t get me started. Hubby and I come from two different religious backgrounds…let’s just leave it at that for right now. Anyway, Paige was listening to our conversation and the conversation headed to the discussion of Godparents. It was then that her mind started rolling a mile a minute.

“Mom. Why don’t you have Godparents?” Before I could even answer her: “Is it because you’re white?

And as it took several minutes for Hubby and I to recover from laughter, and even though we tried to explain the circumstances, Paige may always believe that I don’t have Godparents because I’m white.

People...this is what happens when you’re a minority in your own family. I'm just saying. Perhaps we should've taken another trip around It’s a Small World. Just a thought.

Turkeys...and Why We Eat Them

Okay, so I really am not going to post about why we eat turkey on Thanksgiving. But as I’m pondering all of the many things I’m thankful for…I compiled a very fun list of 25 things that still are so very important to me. (I like the number 25…) SO…here are things I am VERY thankful for:

1. My own, personal Latin Lover.
2. That my Latin Lover is also my Latin Rock Star.
3. My Children: The Drama Queen in Training and Vampira
4. FABULOUS Friends and Family that are just too cool for school
5. S.C.R.U.B.S (Damn! That show cracks me up!)
6. Mother in-laws that cook so I don’t have to (All the time…not just on special occasions!)
7. Being Hydrated
8. The perfection that is Starbucks…where everybody knows my name.
9. CD Player with headphones. (Remember WB1 & 2??)
10. GAP Long and Lean Jeans. (not regular but LONG. YES, my legs are that LONG.)
11. Singing along with my girls in the car at TOP volume…often.
12. The fact that my singing does NOT frighten my children.
13. I know how to make “SLAMMIN’!” Guacamole.
14. I have THE BEST view out of everyone in my company. (Don't hate.)
15. I can Get Down AND Get Funky…even for a white girl.
16. I know that Istanbul was once Constantinople.
17. That I can spell the above without looking it up.
18. The ENTIRE cast of Ocean’s 11…especially the ones I could EASILY stare at for the rest of my life. But that just isn’t very productive.
19. Boob jobs. Someday, people….someday.
20. That the loan docs for our house JUST went through as I’m typing this.
21. That I enjoy the freedoms that I do.
22. That I normally like my job and MOST of the people I work with.
23. The 80s and the movies and music it brought forth.
24. The fact that I live so close to the coast, mountains and other fun places to visit.
25. Abraham Lincoln. He was a funny-looking, yet very cool guy.

On this favorite holiday of mine, I would like to wish everyone a VERY Happy Thanksgiving!!! Gobble, gobble.

I've Made a Decision

It is increasingly irritating to me that I refer to my children as "The Oldest", "The Youngest", "The Brown One", "The White One"...you get the picture. I've discussed this with Sarah Marinarah (she IS my blogging Mentor) and we've concluded that there really isn't any reason that I shouldn't refer to them by name.

Introducing:

Paige: The seven-year old Drama Queen in Training....a.k.a. "The Oldest"

Abigail (Abby): The two-year old Monkey, Tazmanian Devil...a.k.a. "The Youngest", "Vampira", etc...

The Management asks that you please continue to refer to me as "JP" and the Rock Star Hubby can still be referred to as "Hubby."

There. I've done it. That's all you get.

Vampira and Her Posse

The other night, The Hubby and my two children thought it would be fun to drive me crazy with their favorite game: Insane Chaos to the Third Power. This is where the three of them chase each other, make loud noises and wrestle. Or at least that’s the general idea because, let’s face it, Insane Chaos to the Third Power has no rules.

At the wrestling point in the game, I happened to go into the other room, but could hear The Youngest really getting hyper as she wrestled with her dad. Hell, she got so excited that she bit the poor bastard. It was then that Hubby let out a sound I was unfamiliar with. Me, being in the other room, rushed to the scene of the crime and saw Hubby clutching his right side.

“WHAT HAPPENED?!” I asked.

And in a barely audible whisper I hear: “She bit me.”

Of course, having to be the mom, I had to read my child her rights, give her the “what for” and book her – cuffs and all. As this is the second biting incident (The Oldest being her first prey) I had to show The Hubby’s flesh wound to her to see if hit home what she had done.

I really don’t know that it did.

Doesn’t this two-year old understand that her teeth gave her dad a new tattoo?

Does she understand that this is socially unacceptable? That there are GERMS involved in biting other people?

Does she understand that she will have NO friends?? That her father and I will be looked upon as “bad parents” because our daughter is a VAMPIRE?

Perhaps our family nights will now focus on “The Alternatives to Biting.”

It also may be time to actually define the rules to Insane Chaos to the Third Power. (I wonder if Parker Bros would be interested in a new game.) Of course, I'm more concerned with The Youngest actually FOLLOWING the rules.

So far, Vampira thinks the rules are beneath her.

The Something More I'm Feeling Must Be Love

Have you not tried that silver "plate" that comes with some of those microwave pizzas now??? It actually makes it seem like you BAKED that little mini pizza as opposed to what you really did. Which was nuke the hell out of it for 3 minutes. CRISPY crust and melted cheese...could life get any better than that? Well, can LUNCH get any better than that?

Although, I did scrape the roof of my mouth on the very crispy crust that I was expecting NOT to be crispy. Perhaps its a love/hate relationship because my mouth is smartin' from that wound and I'm not loving the silver plate as much as I used to.

My mouth and I will be better prepared for that nifty little invention next time.

Be Thou Humble

I think my favorite thing to do is to find humor in life and the situations that life throws at you. However, this isn’t always easy. But it is USUALLY necessary. I grew up as someone who took pretty much EVERYTHING too seriously. I was ever so mature for my age and I think sometimes I missed out on “normal” fun because I was too serious and mature. Don’t get me wrong, I had friends who FORCED the fun out of me. Sarah Marinara, JW (formally JH) and RM (formally RW) kept me in check. I had more fun with those people growing up than I could ever write here…because some of it is just a feeling that cannot be put into words. Those girls were my ticket to fun growing up, and I wonder if they realize that.

I think as I’ve gotten older, I use humor and fun to get me through some rough times. While some would call this avoiding…I call it surviving. This year has been full of me facing some of the realities that I’ve “avoided” before. That is not easy to do. What is interesting when you make this “journey” is the friends you start to relate to. When you stop pretending everything in you life is perfect, there are people in your life, as well as yourself, that say, “Oh hey! You’re messed up, too?! Gosh its nice to have someone to talk to about this…I had no idea someone else felt this way too.” It also puts things into perspective. Not to mention humbling.

Aside from my lifelong friends that I mentioned above, I have a relatively new friend (we’ve known each other for about six years) I’ve grown so close to, its like I’ve known D forever. I think I have. Last September I was eagerly awaiting the arrival D’s baby.

Mallory.

I was so excited to meet Mallory…I couldn’t wait. A week before her due date, I get a phone call and can see from caller ID that is from the hospital that D is delivering from…I answer it excitedly just knowing that Mallory has arrived. Instead, I hear a friend of D’s on the other line that then passes me to D. It is then I learn that there had been complications and after an emergency C-Section, Mallory had not survived and had been delivered still-born. My heart broke. As a mother, my heart broke for this Mommy that woke up hoping that everything was alright to learning that she had the scar across her middle but no baby girl to take home. For her little boy who won’t be able to fully understand why his little sister is living with Heavenly Father and not their family. As a friend, my heart broke for this amazing friend who just suffered a second loss in the span of a year and a half after losing her father so unexpectedly. My heart hurt so much.

The next day as I head to the hospital, I’m nervous. Nervous because even though I’ve known D for years, you’re never sure how to help someone through something like this. But as I’m worrying so much about how I can help her, she ends up helping me. Because of the faith that she has, she is helping those around her cope with the terrible loss that SHE has suffered. SHE is the one putting it all into perspective for those around her. Not that she didn’t have her darkest of times…but she was able to keep perspective and rely on her faith to help her. As I sat there looking through the memory box the hospital gives to these mothers who have lost their babies, D tells me of holding Mallory and telling me how much that baby looked her firstborn. Tells me how they were planning for Mallory to “play” Baby Jesus for their Christmas card picture that year. She laughs through her tears to her mom, who is with us in the room, that Mallory had to go and screw up that idea.

It is at that incredible moment that I realize that laughter, or humor, is the bright sunlight that appears on a very dark day. That it makes the heart sing when all it wants to do is cry. It is at that moment I am truly humbled by this very special person in my life that helps me see the light. Truly.

Oops...I forgot one...

I can't believe I forgot one. This one I've taken to heart for a good many years and one of the only ones NOT from my Franklin Planner. (I know, I'm seeking help for this and many other things I just learned were wrong with me. But I'll save that horror for another blog. Lucky you.)

"If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change the way you feel about it." ~Mary Engelbreit

Good stuff, huh?

I also happen to like:

No one can make you feel inferior without your permission. ~Eleanore Roosevelt.

And as you might've noticed, there are no quotes around that because I'm not positive I "quoted" it correctly. In fact, I'm sure I didn't. And I really don't feel like searching the world wide web for it at this time. Perhaps I will do that later. Perhaps.

This and That

For some reason, I wanted to share some of my favorite quotes I've come accross lately. (Thank you Franklin Planner!) These are things that mean something to me for one reason or another. I've slowly been making changes in my life and these quotes just happen to be on my planner pages or in something I've read. Interesting...

"Keep your promises to yourself." ~David Harold

"In the end, you're measured not by how much you undertake, but by what you
finally accomplish." ~Donald Trump

"Commitment is what transforms a promise into reality." ~Abraham
Lincoln

"Procrastination is the theif of time." ~Edward Young

"The life you have led doesn't have to be the only life you have." ~Anna
Quindlen

"You only live once, but if you work it right, once is enough." ~Joe E.
Lewis

Have a great week!!!!

McDonalds Anyone???

Sometimes things in my life are just too humorous NOT to share. And maybe it isn’t even all that humorous as maybe completely insane. On Friday, my in-laws wanted to treat my daughters to McDonald’s so that they could also partake in ‘The Incredibles’ mania and get one of the toys in a Happy Meal. They’re buying…they’re driving….I go along for the ride. (Mistake number 1.)

To keep things simple, it was thought that we would just go through the drive-thru. Now, I’ve been married and part of this family for over 7 years and I have never gone through and drive-thru with my in-laws. And perhaps it would be best to explain some things:

My husband’s family moved to the United States from Mexico about 14 years ago. The Hubby and his brother went to school here, so they speak English like they’ve lived here all their lives. (Although, when Hubby and I first started dating…I got a kick out of his use of grammar SEVERAL times. “More expencier” was my personal favorite!) Anyway, my in-laws don’t speak English quite as well as their sons. But we get by famously…especially after 7 years of English lessons from me! However, you can imagine my trepidation on proceeding through a McDonald’s drive-thru with my in-laws and my two daughters eagerly awaiting their new 'Incredibles' toy.

My father in-law asked if I wanted to drive. I didn’t really feel like it and I didn’t think the situation all the way through, so I declined. (Mistake number 2.) We arrive at McDonalds without incident and my father in-law slowly drove around to the entrance…while not being quite sure which lines applied to him. (Have they really lived her almost 15 years without EVER venturing through a drive-thru???!!!) He successfully pulls up to the speaker/menu and asks me to make the order…from the middle seat of the van. (DAMN! Why did I not drive??!!) I, being on the right side of the van, lean over my oldest and open the left side door so that the poor, unsuspecting McDonald’s worker can actually hear our order. Being in that precarious position, I frantically motioned for the blessed child that was very much in my way to get OUT of my way and switch places with me.

During this time, my youngest sees the advertisement picture for 'The Incredibles' toys and goes completely ape-shit over them. And buy this I mean so completely excited that I can in no way hear the poor, unsuspecting McDonald’s worker over her screams and joyful yells. I now have so much regret for agreeing to this trip (refer back to Mistake number 1) that I am sweating…and I don’t sweat. Well, not really. I sincerely wished myself back in time saying, “No thanks! These girls are in no mood for the second happiest place on earth and, let’s face it, they don’t deserve it." Instead, I’m yelling at the poor, unsuspecting McDonald’s worker (only to be heard, not because she did anything wrong) and still trying to remove the leg of my oldest from under me as we are still trying to change seats.

It is at this time when I imagine myself at home…not in any McDonald’s drive-thru…sitting by the fire…by myself…drinking Scotch. And since I wasn’t at home…I really was in the McDonald’s drive-thru…I don’t even have a fireplace…I honestly don’t drink Scotch and don’t even know what it tastes like…I somehow just completed our order and my father in-law figured out how to navigate to the window to pay and receive our food.

We did it. We survived the drive-thru.

Well, except for the fact that the girls didn’t get the toys they wanted and we didn’t get our straws. And while the girls are too young to understand, let’s just be happy for what we got children. It really, really could’ve ended up much, much worse. Trust me.

Freaky Friday Part Two

Speaking of crazies...

The oldest was playing with those PlayMobile toys and had the little scenery all set up with the hills and flowers. It was really cute.

"Hey mom," she says

"Yeah"

"These people are really lucky"

"Why's that?" (Why don't I learn?)

"Because you wanna know why all these flowers are here?"

"Because they have a flower garden?" (What can I say...its been a
long day.)

"Nope, because their grandmother is burried here. That's why there
are flowers"

When should I break the news to my mom that my daughter feels the need to burry her in our back yard? So she can have a "Lucky Flower Garden" where the Gramma's burried?

Perhaps therapy is not as far off as I thought...

Freaky Friday...Almost

There's a scene in the remake of Disney's Freaky Friday where we see "the mom" (who's a psychiatrist) rush to her office for her first appointment of the day. Its the mental guy...and when he finally sits down on the couch for his session he says, "Today was good. But then I got up."

Its so sad that I can relate to that head-case.

This weekend is my annual Girls' Weekend away. The weekend I get some "JP Time"...to refresh, to get some rest, to hang out and have fun with the gals. The weekend that allows me time to actually miss my husband and children. Its beautiful. A Kodak moment, really.

And lets face it. It allows them the chance to miss me as well!! Have a good weekend!!

I Roller-Skated Last Night….

Now, how often can you say that as an adult? Unless, of course, you are a professional roller skater…and in that case, hats off to you! As for me, I can’t remember the last time I was on skates. I think the last time I was on any kind of skates, it was my one and only time ice skating. At any rate, I think it’s been 10+ years. And this was full on ROLLER SKATES!! No joke. It was a birthday party for a friend of The Oldest…and one of the other parents convinced me to put on skates.

Amazingly…I DID NOT FALL!!

Even while helping the Two-year old skate…no falling for JP! This is tremendous news, people! JP the Klutz did not fall! However, the two-year old wasted no time in letting me know I was cramping her style. She held on to my hand for the first five laps…and then her mommy was a thing of the past. Off she went. She was quite the hit, being that she was the youngest Skater-Babe there. With all these seven and eight year olds….she was skating like no two-year old should.

As I’m following my daughters around this skating rink…I had a temporary flashback of the 80’s and getting dropped off at the skating rink on Friday nights. Big hair, pegged pants, t-shirts tied at the waist…hanging out at the rink and the drama that inevitably ensues. By the end of the night, you’re not speaking to the “friends” you came with…there were usually tears and maybe even yelling…you’re sorry you ever agreed to come. It is another memory in my life where I have to question my parents’ sanity and why they let me do these thing. It is another moment in my life that I had refused to repeat with my own children.

And yet there I was…in skates that have most likely been around since the 80’s…glaring at the hubby who is safely off the rink watching and laughing… rocking out to Disney music...watching seven/eight year old drama mixed with lots of fun...skating around with the two-year old who is apparently already embarrassed to hang with her mom…

…and suddenly I’m glad that I was there. Glad that I’m spending this time with my family. Glad that I’m still hangin’ with my girls, even at a distance. Glad that I'm experiencing this WITH my girls. Glad that my daughter’s friends have “cool” parents (well…most of them.) Glad that they played Disney music…’cause I really am a kid at heart. Glad that I didn’t even fall once. Glad that big hair, pegged pants, t-shirt tied at the waist, drama, tears and fighting were kept to the absolute minimum.

And SO GLAD that today, I am NOT walking like a penguin that rode a horse all day…

The Nanny....

As I was thinking about all the things that I have divulged on this website, I’m quite certain that you know that I have two daughters. You know that I am married to a man I refer to as “Latin Rock Star.” I’m not sure that I’ve made it clear how significant those things are in my life and some of the “stories” that I share. I think I should probably mention that while my husband is Hispanic, I am quite the White Chick, if you will. I tan only if burned properly…and the tan usually doesn’t last all that long. When I wear shorts or a skirt, others around me (especially in my office) put on their sunglasses to let me know how white my legs are. I get the point.

So now, having said all that, it should be no surprise that I pretty much stick out in my family of four like a sore thumb. My hubby and children have beautiful golden brown skin that is the envy of, well…me. The oldest child has the darker skin of my two daughters and Sarah Marinara has encouraged me to refer to them as “The Brown One” and “The White One”…I’ll see if I can work this in somehow. I must say that it is nice that people actually believe that at least The White One belongs to me…sometimes. I am affectionately called “The Nanny” because most people do not believe that my children are really mine.

Once day, Hubby’s Cousin and I took The Oldest to one of our local malls. (This was before The Youngest was born.) Now, as this was a normal outing for the three of us and Hubby’s Cousin is used to being asked if she’s the mommy. No big deal. However, this particular mall trip…things went down a bit differently.

The three of us are browsing at all the fun and enticing items when one of the stores’ employees approached us to see if we needed anything. After informing her we were just looking, the young girl says to Hubby’s Cousin:

“What an adorable little girl, she’s so CUTE! How old is
she?”

This is a VERY normal “happening” so Hubby’s Cousin
says:

“Hmmmm….why don’t you ask her mom?!” and walks
off.

Young Girl turns to me and says, “Oh, she’s
yours?”

Me replying, “Yes, yes she is.”

Young Girl
says, “OH! Is she mixed?!”

MIXED?!?!?!?!?!

Who says these things?? Is she mixed? Like she’s a puppy, or something? Part Rottweiler, part Lab??? Like Hubby and I weren’t fixed in time so we had an “Oops” Baby??? It takes a special kind of idiot to say something like that…especially this day and age…

SO…today when I leave work? I will be the Nanny…going home to her Rock Star Hubby and her Mixed Children. CHEERS!

Rocking the Vote in California

Okay...so there really isn't any big mystery in California....so I suppose my vote REALLY doesn't rock anything no matter which way I vote....at least for president...

But, HOT DAMN, this is cool!!

I have to say I'm one of those geeks who is totally jazzed about how many people who registered and who showed up to vote. I LOVE the "race" to the White House (although, I really could do without the pansy-ass name calling and petty attacks. C'mon, those get old.) I LOVE that we have the freedom to choose. I LOVE that we all have our own opinion...and that its encouraged. I LOVE that we aren't forced to believe in whatever our leaders believe. I LOVE that we can piss and moan and complain about our leaders...and we aren't tortured or killed for it. Whether you think your vote "counts" or not...its DANG cool.

Congratulations, America. Whoever wins (or loses) the presidential election, whatever propositions pass or not...what a ride. I LOVE this Democratic Republic I live in. Even if I do live in the pleasantly wacky state of California. :)

God Bless America...for real.

This and That...and Nevada

So….Halloween turned out to be a three day celebration of CANDY. The Two-Year Old made a very definite opinion about costumes (she didn’t wear one) and the Seven-Year old made a SMASHING Hispanic Lizzie McGuire. Now we’ll spend a week in Candy De-tox mode.

My sister (who lives in Nevada) called on Wednesday to say that her and her two kids will be here for the weekend because the kids don’t have school on Friday.

“Why don’t the kids have school on Friday,” I ask.

“Because it’s Nevada Day…no school.”

“Nevada Day???”

“Yeah…remember?”

“What in Sam Hell is there to celebrate about Nevada that you actually get a day off of school?!?!?!”

“I dunno, Gambling and Whores?”

“hahaha….yeah, that’s all I could come up with, too.”

God Bless Nevada! (Or, then again, maybe not…)

Halloween Update....

Just thought you'd want to know that costumes have changed...AGAIN. I am now the mother of the Hispanic version of Lizzie McGuire...(I'm sorry, she has beautiful golden brown skin, it had to be said!) and the child "formerly known as the chicken" is now the child we're trying to force to be a chicken. Good times.

Dude, Where's My Comment?

Okay....so perhaps Sarah and I messed with something while "enhancing" my blog. At any rate, there can be no comments posted at this time. Weep if you must...I know the pain that this must cause. We are working on it. Okay, Sarah is working on it. I am just the writer of blogs...she is the master of coding and such.

She wins.

Fire and Brimstone

Is it sacrilegious if you have a two-year old who thinks that the picture of Jesus Christ hung in your mother in-law's entry looks like your brother in-law? And no matter how much you try to convince her otherwise, she still insists it’s her Uncle J?

There must be a special place in Hell for that child's parents. Shame on them.

The Two-Year Old Chicken

Halloween is sneaking up on us once again. And once again I'm reminded why my mother hated Halloween so much when me and my siblings were younger.

The costumes and the drama that comes with it.

For The Oldest, the biggest deal was just having her actually make a decision. She toyed with the idea of being Hermione from Harry Potter...now I think she's settled on being Carmen from 'Spy Kids.' I should probably find a costume for her now that she's decided....the horrible mother that I am waiting 'til the last minute when everything is wiped out! BUT, at least we're somewhere...and she's happy with her decision.

But then there's the youngest. Oh, that child. She would be defined by most as somewhat of a tomboy...but a tomboy that LOVES dress up clothes and those fancy plastic dress up shoes that you KNOW for sure she's going to break her ankle while wearing them. This is the child that gets in bed with us nearly every morning around 3 or 4...and has been known to put on the dress up shoes before even getting out of her own bed...stumbling down the hall in those God forsaken shoes...and tries to climb up on our bed still wearing them! I figured that dressing up for Halloween would be right up her alley.

I was quite wrong.

A friend of mine let us borrow 3 costumes that would fit The Youngest. Right on! One child I didn't have to worry about...I knew one would work. The first one we pulled out of the bag was a pumpkin...well, that has SO already been done.

Next!

A VERY cute Lion costume...complete with the cutest little paws. We were so jazzed about this...it was SO cute and just so perfect for my little one. However, SHE would have absolutely nothing to do with this costume. It royally freaked her out. Who knew? However, we're such bad parents that we kept trying to trick her in to putting it on...and then moved to forcing it on.

We'd better start a therapy fund for our children.

Okay, so the lion suit is out. Bummer. So, the last costume...our last resort. If this doesn't work, it’s back to the drawing board. And what do you know? It was a HIT. She loved it and didn't want to take it off. We had found the costume that The Youngest would wear for Halloween. And you think that after all that drama I would be able to ignore the questioning looks of family and friends when they hear what she's going to be for Halloween. But I just can't help it when I have to say, "Um, yeah...she's going to be a Chicken. Yes, I said CHICKEN!"

So, Trick or Treating will be a blast this year with the very cool Spy Kid...and her pet chicken.

Nightmares in the ER

I don't watch any TV show regularly. This would require me to have a “regular” schedule in my life…and I do not have a “regular” schedule. There are those times, though, that I am able to sit down and watch a show or two. Mostly, I like shows that can make me laugh. (I have enough seriousness, let me watch something mindless and funny.)

Last night was not one of those funny moments on TV. Hubby was flipping through channels and we ended up on ER. Now, I’ve been watching ER every now and then for years. Okay, I used to watch it religiously. Now, I maybe watch it once or twice a season…it’s a show I like.

Not so much anymore.

People…DID YOU SEE THE CRAZY WHO PUSHED HER CHILDREN OUT OF THE THIRD STORY WINDOW????

HOLY HELL!

How do they come up with this crap??? Do the writers sit around the table and say, “okay, how can we give our viewers nightmares this week?”

Oh, you did your job this week, Stupid Jerks. No more ER for JP!! DONE…end of story!!!!

But, can I tell you that I like the Apprentice, though? It deeply disturbs me that I have allowed myself into Reality TV Hell…but I guess I should just be glad it doesn’t give me nightmares. Well, not yet anyway.

Chicks Rock!!

Say what you want about my parenting…but my girls TOTALLY rock. The two year-old sings Hoobastank better than most, and the seven year-old can pick out a Guns N Roses song in the first few rifts. (Musical geniuses, I tell you!)

However, when I was 11 or 12, I totally DID NOT rock. I remember having a very typical sleepover with two of my other friends. And while I really don’t really remember much about the actual sleepover, I do remember the next morning when we had plans to go to the mall. THE MALL! We took great pains to get ready for this particular mall trip. We had the black stretch pants (stretch pants!!!) that had a “built-in” skirt, the ‘acid washed’ jean skirt, the completely hideous t-shirts, this sweater-thing in the most atrocious colors…and the bangs. How could I possibly forget the bangs! (God bless the 80’s!) We had to duck down to get through any doorways! We thought we were the shit. All those mall-rat boys were going to fall at our feet. We just knew it.

WHAT THE HELL WERE WE THINKING!!!!!

I hold our parents completely responsible for this. For heaven sakes, it may take therapy for me to actually get over it. It’s amazing I turned out as cool as I did. I vowed to my daughters when they were infants that I would NEVER allow them to dress like complete idiots. (You think I’m joking, don’t you?) And cry as they may…whine, scream, yell all they want I will NOT let them look like VALLEY GIRL REJECTS!!!

You see, my husband and I are fairly cool…but more importantly, we’re still cool to my girls. We expose them to such cool music and people…and I buy most of their clothes at GAP. (Let’s face it, this is important.) I truly believe that there is hope for my children.

But if they even breathe the words “stretch pants,” I will ground them.

Kick Some Ass

When my oldest daughter was four (this is before the "other one" was born) I took her to my office one evening. While I finished something up, she chatted with my boss in her office. Soon, my boss thought it would be so fun to teach my little one a new word.

"Hey, "says Boss. "Whenever you think something's cool say 'SLAMMIN' instead."

The child refused...kept shaking her head...and then refused some more
as Boss persisted in this new fabulous word.

"C'mon, this can be your new word!"

(No...again.)

"C'mon, you'll be cool if you say it!"

And then my blessed child, this child from MY womb stares this woman
down and says, "I don't have to be cool, I'm pretty."

YOU GO, GIRL!!!! Kick Ass!!!

Emotional Baggage

Family from out of town will be at my mom's this weekend. I'm excited to see everyone. My auntie's husband happens to be a counselor/Therapist...whatever you would like to call him. (Not Al, though....so not an Al.) My dad asked my uncle to sit down with me and my four sibling and talk about my Ursula-like grandmother. What the effects are of being children and grandchildren of a Narcissistic human being like the Psycho Hose-Beast (PH-B) was.

Get out your popcorn, kids...this could get good.

Risky Business

The 2 yr old peed in her pants about five minutes after I dressed her this morning. One step forward, two steps back in the potty-training world. And I was so excited yesterday!!

Remind me someday to tell you about my grandmother that looked like Ursula from The Little Mermaid. Fun times.

Toilet Talk

Have you ever tried to reason with a two year-old? I highly recommend it. If you don't have children, borrow mine. It’s the best birth control you'll ever use.

However, I have been thrilled today by the fact that she actually told me she had to go potty before she went in her pants. It’s the small things, people.

A couple of years ago, Hubby and I planned to take the oldest daughter to see The Princess Diaries. (The first one, that is.) She was so excited and it was all her and my niece could talk about. Imagine my surprise when I overheard them and learned that I was seriously mistaken on the type of movie I was taking my daughter to. Who knew we were on our way to see "The Princess Diarrhea." The Magical World of Disney took on a whole new....form?

JP and the Blustery Day

I made my hubby mad at me last night. Not on purpose, mind you....but still, I was being a spoiled little brat. And while that's okay sometimes, it wasn't okay this time. Here I am trying create the "Less Stress More Peace" lifestyle and I blew it. Damn. Totally sucks when ALL the blame is on you, doesn't it? I feel bad. It was not my intent to make my hubby mad or hurt...and I'm sorry about that. Bleh. I'm sorry, Babe.

(Side note: Someday I might actually show him this website...I'm working up to that.)

The weather out here in good 'ol California is very wet and windy....quite the 'blustery day' really. Sarah just told me that she loved waking up to the sound of rain this morning. And while I would usually feel the same way, this morning just irritated me. Because as I tried my darndest to stay warm in my bed, pretend my alarm wasn't going off and ignore the two year-old's foot that was in my spleen, I just wanted "five more minutes" of blissful sleep. No such luck. It was then that I heard the rain, felt the peacefulness for not even 20 seconds...and then I very much had to pee.

Now, I will get up several times during the night to check on my girls, if need be...but getting up to pee is just so dang annoying. Why in the world can't my body wait for a more convenient time FOR ME to need to use the facilities??? These are the questions that linger!! And so while Sarah Marinara was ever so happy to lay in bed and listen to rhythm of the falling rain, I was SUPREMELY disturbed that my bladder had the last say in me getting out of bed.

Not cool. But perhaps this blustery day and all of it's wrath was my punishment for making my hubby mad last night. Bad JP.

Laughter the Best Medicine

I am sitting here, 11:30 at night with tears streaming down my face because I am laughing so hard at this new friend of mine that I don't even know and who doesn't even know I exist. Someone who is very different from me but who also is very similar...and this someone just made me feel tons better. Now if I knew how, I would link dooce.com to my site...but alas, I have not taken that step to bloggerdom. I will take a baby step toward that on Friday. (THANK YOU, SARAH!)

At any rate, I had been thinking that if I just sat down and cried my eyes out that I would feel better. But hell, who has time to sit down and cry? Besides, its not exactly something you look forward to...not really, anyway. But who knew that laughing until I cried would be just as good? And perhaps even better. All I can say is "Thank you, Heather B. Armstrong! I've laughed until I cried. NOW, I can go to bed."

And while it is nearly midnight and morning comes so quickly, it may not be the longest I've slept, but it might just be the best night's sleep I've had in a while AND just what I've needed. But don't hate me if I choose to have a VERY LARGE "dose" of caffeine in the morning. However, I don't think you will.

Bad Mom Award....

As my life gets crazier and crazier....was just curious if ya'll missed me. All three of you... kidding. Only kidding. Sarah says that she had absolutely no need for daytime television because she watches my life play out daily and the drama that surrounds it. And I must ask: Shouldn't I be getting paid then for dealing with all of this CRAP?? I really believe that I should....Susan Lucci has NOTHING on me...really.

This week I feel that I have taken one step further in my quest to kick ass. (Or gain cahonas...whichever term you would prefer.) I was in a very icky spot at work over the past week and I stuck to my guns. I didn't back down. I didn't get emotional. I was real and honest and fair and diplomatic and professional and yet, still compassionate. I did what I set out to do. Imagine that.

Needless to day, my life has been QUITE stressful. I really won't go into all of my drama and how I dealt with it....just know that this week sucked. And can I tell you how my work week ended up? Every year we have a theme at work for Halloween. I NEVER dress up. I just don't. This year, I voiced my decision to try and dress up but I was NOT going to follow the lame "Circus" theme. (C'mon, would you??? PUH-LEASE....) Anyway, the one person in this ENTIRE company that I don't like ("Corner Pocket" and I call him F.D.A - you figure it out..)says to me while I'm having a conversation with my other co-workers: "You should be a giraffe...you're so tall" I'm thinking "Did he just say that to me???" Corner Pocket said the look on my face was priceless....but HOLY HELL! I wanted to drop kick the DUMB-ASS and shove him down the elevator shaft. Is this normal?

Part of my "fun" this weekend was spending an insane amount of time at a soccer tournament for my 7 year-old daughter. But seeing as though my 2 year-old daughter prevented me from actually watching the games, I should've stayed home. So, let me recap....after running around doing errands (which included picking up the juices for the team) and trying to find this place I have never been too, my dear husband is annoyed with me that I'm late for the game, I'm still not able to watch the games??? Are you kidding me? By this time my stress level is right back up where it usually is...I'm annoyed with my husband....frustrated at not being able to see the game....and trying to reason with a 2 year-old. Good times. You would think that would be enough.

Oh, but there's more...

As I'm trying to distract the little one, she decided it would be fun to sit on those fabulous metal bleachers. Okay fine...something fun so I can watch the game for a split second. I get her situated on my left (we're on the 3rd 'step') and I turned to my right to make sure that my rear wasn't going to fall of the edge I was sitting on. Well, I should've spent that split second watching the game because in that very split second of me making sure my ass still fit on the bleacher, my child had attempted flying. SHE FAILED. And fell backwards OFF the bleachers. Did I mention we're indoors and the floor is CEMENT? Just checking.... So as I'm scrambling to this beloved child who is still silent in her crying until she actually breathes again, this guy walks by, sees my young damsel in distress and then looks at me. "Oh, is she's yours? " he asks stupidly. No, DumbAss, I'm just the hired Psycho-Lady that is nearly killing herself to get to all small children who leap off bleachers and who are crying hysterically.

So as I'm pondering all of the idiots I've come across in the past week or so...of all those mothers who did not drown these complete morons at birth...it boggles my mind that it is I who wins the Bad Mom Award. Classic.

I'm Married to a Latin Rock Star

Sometimes it amazes me that I'm actually married to a man who could quite possibly be famous one day. Out of everyone I know, I am probably the LEAST I would expect to marry a Rock Star. (And Aidan, let's be clear....ROCK STAR....not POP STAR....or PORN STAR for that matter. Boy...wouldn't that make for a different blog? Anyway, Ricky Martin he is not.)

Okay, so its not completely official...but let's just say that there are people interested, money being discussed, talks being had. You get the picture. I knew this could be a possibility someday but somehow it was always so far off. Now, there are talks of European and South American Tours. What the hell? How'd that happen? I am so proud of all the guys...especially my guy. (I was going to just call him A, but let's face it. Aidan would somehow think this was all about him. LOL) But am I ready to be a "single" mom while he's off touring in all these fabulous places? Granted, they won't be living the "high-life" yet, but still. What about me??

I've been saying that a lot lately...and quite frankly its starting to annoy me. Let just be real: IT'S ALL ABOUT ME. I just need to stop waiting for someone else to make that statement true. My life's dreams are not just going to be handed to me on a silver platter. Crap like that just doesn't happen to me. You hear all of your life about setting goals...and working to reach those goals. KEY WORDS: WORK FOR GOALS. KICK ASS while there is ass to be kicked. That my friends, is what I'm working toward. My goals, my dreams, my family, my friends...and yes, even my rock star husband. Those are VERY worthwhile things....its time to kick some ass.