Sisterhood in motherhood

I was speaking with a friend the other day, a mother herself. We shared stories about trying to find friends. Not the friends you grew up with, went to college with, worked with - your mommy friends.  The friends you hear you'll find in a mother's group or at the hospital with your baby.  Their children and your children will be besties.  The women you'll find that are in this moment with you - your sisters in motherhood. They share your experiences, they understand what you are going through.  You'll go to the park. You'll have play dates. It'll be grand.

I have friends in my life, that are my family - they are my sisters. That's not what I'm after. Though if I'm being honest, I wouldn't mind a good local lifetime friend up in here. It's more so, I imagined that this whole motherhood gig would bare a sisterhood among other mommies. A bond or respect that is instant or at the very least likely.

Except it's not.

I'm sure these groups or people exist, somewhere. I'm not saying these magical mommies are the unicorns of Fantasyland. I am saying, I'd fall over if I met one.

This friend I was speaking to? She has three girls, all somewhere around my age. Home girl was speaking from experience... but guess what? It hasn't gotten any better, not from my vantage point. What the hell, I thought everything got better with time?

If you are going to say any combination of the following, I don't want to hear it:

• Get out there!
• Be patient. 
• Are you getting involved?
• Have you tried local mother groups?

I've tried it all.

I join online groups (meetup.com, local Facebook groups) and I have been kicked out of more than one. Why? Because I can't commit to the daytime play dates. I work. Let's not get into that divide, the continued debate, the {dramatic music} mommy war.

What the hell, ladies, I can't meet for coffee at 9:15 or story time at 11 and you can't do this girl a solid and let me be involved virtually to start? It's freaking meetupDOTcom. It's a freaking website. I told you I would meet up at some point, just needed to work some things out. What's that? None of you want to meet in any hour that is after 5 pm or on the weekend? Awesome. Leave me out in the cold? Thanks. I really feel that sisterhood, especially when I get another deactivation notice in my inbox. Nothing says solidarity like a "you can't be in our club" notice.

Said profile picture that
repels people.

Facebook? I've reached out to people and volunteered where I can for local events. Nothing. The group leader puts out a request for volunteers - message me - they say. Message I do and I don't get a response back. Is my profile picture not friendly enough? For God sake we're a freaking Pinterest dream right here.

I've signed up for classroom activities, reached out to other parents in the class to see how I can help and on more than one occasion received a "we're all set." I've attempted to volunteer directly through the PTO and received little encouragement if any response. It's as if, they have their tribe - their people - and not taking new recruits. They are all set. My oldest is in kindergarten. For all intents and purposes, I will be in the district for years to come. Wouldn't you want to let me in, if only for the tenure I have to offer? I've attended a PTO meeting in a room full of people who all knew one another. Not one person introduced themselves. I smiled, I said hello, I was friendly.  I was shy, but not unwelcoming. In the same meeting they discussed how more parents need to be involved and how could they get people to be more active?

It took all I had in me to not raise my hand, "Suggestion from the peanut gallery - a little 'hello, and how do you do' is a start. Playing hard to get as adults is not cute."
Side note: Someone is saying to themselves: "Are you this hostile in real life? Cause I think I found the issue." No, I'm not. That's why I didn't contribute in that moment, because I likely wouldn't have been able to be all calm about it. Someone who knows me is thinking, "You are TOTALLY this hostile." And to that I say: it's different if we already know each other.

Could I have been more aggressive (in a nice way), could I have stuck out my hand and introduced myself? Absolutely. I have. It still gets me nowhere.

At a recent meetup activity I was able to attend, I introduced myself to another mom. Stuck my hand out and said hello.  You know what she did? Didn't take her eyes off her phone. She was on meetup.com to see the RSVP list. She said she wanted to "see if she recognized anyone by their picture to introduce herself to." As I was introducing myself, live - and in person. 

I have this dream that I'll find my tribe. Forget the tribe, I'll take a warm body (that makes some semblance of eye contact). They have to be out there, right?  I'm looking for quality over quantity. I'm hoping for one person to let me in their club; to show me this comradery of motherhood - face to face.

Side note: did you know they make 'mommy play date cards'? I can't seem to get a hello, but somewhere, someone out there is meeting so many people she needs freaking business cards? How in the hell?

Source: etsy.com via Amanda on Pinterest

I'm going to keep trying. I'm going to keep at it. It doesn't help I'm coming from a place of starting out.  I've been the new girl for the last few years. I'm always starting this search. I cannot wait to not be the new one. When I come in contact with the 'next' new person - hold on, girl. Mama's gonna make you feel welcome, it will be uncomfortable for both of us - I'm sure.  I can assure you it's better than the alternative.

BE GONE: bad travel juju. Be. Gone.

I used to travel all the time for my job. Once a month or more. For the last two years, this has steadily become less and less a part of the job. And for this, I am grateful. There are lots of reasons for my gratitude, most prominent of them?

I suck at travel.

Travel sucks for me. 

Travel, can suck. It. 

It never works out. There is always some crazy ass story that if it didn't happen to me, I wouldn't believe it. Seriously. I have a whole tag on this here blog. And frankly? There is so much that goes unsaid. So much that I don't write about. It happens every time I travel, and most times I leave the house. It's a wonder I do.

What is all of this to say?

You can imagine my excitement, I'm traveling this week.

The good news? I'm grateful we can work something out to make what could be a bad situation a little less painful (literally and figuratively).  We are still at the point that JJ & I away from each other will not work. She's still nursing, and unlike it was with L, it works (well enough). They are different in so many ways, nursing is one in a never ending list of differences. Leaving for the weekend or more, is not an option. I'm grateful that we can make it work. JJ will come with me and we worked out childcare.  We went through all kinds of options, but it turned out the husband was able to take off from work.  He will be joining us with L the day after we arrive.  My brother is in the area, to help out before he gets there and we are set.

If by set you mean, I'm flying solo with JJ, who is a loose cannon.  We will likely be stuck in the bathroom row, in-between two extra large, angry, smelly people and my darling 4 year old and husband have already been bumped up to first class. Seriously, our seating arrangements are not confirmed - but the two in first class? Confirmed.

All set (my ass).

Another interesting fact? You know that long list of differences between my girls? You know the one I'm really not looking forward to testing? Travel.  The one thing I can say about all my travel BS? My kid was always dreamy. Dreamy in cars, trains, and planes. Seriously. L is a DREAM on flights. She's cute. She's funny. She's silent. A. DREAM.  You know what that means?

We are not all set, people. And if you are flying on Thursday morning and see me falling down the aisle with baby girl in tow? My apologies, pal. My. Apologies. 

Put to the Test

We are looking for a new car. You know what isn't fun? Looking for a new car. It's needed though, maybe you don't know. I am driving a completely inappropriate car for a mom of two. Let's be honest here; it was likely inappropriate for me to be driving it when I was a mom of one. While I love my Volkswagen Carbio it's time to get serious.

I've said from the beginning: I don't care about the color or make.  All I wanted was a third row and low car payments. We rounded out the decisions between a few vehicles and ended up going with a Toyota Highlander. It's glorious, but the road to the glory was interesting.

Long story short, we were going for the lowest monthly payment. My husband & 4 year old did a first round. One afternoon they went out, talked with people, got quotes and test drove vehicles. It wouldn't be a surprise, if you know the kid - she loved the process. Candy at every turn, fancy new rides, riding in a booster seat? You could have told her she was at Disney and she would have believed you. What did I like? They came home with a car payment under what we wanted to pay. I mean, other than free. 

Fast forward a few weeks later when we are ready to sign on the dotted line, it turns out the deal he researched was the basic model. It comes with a steering wheel and four wheels and it turns out they don't actually make that car much.

Ah marketing ploy how I hate thee. 

Just as we are about to walk out, they do a search. And they found one. One vehicle that would give us the lowest car payment. Oh, but don't forget about the taxes so it really isn't as inexpensive as you think it's going to be.

Ah marketing ploy how I hate thee. 

"But before we move forward let's take a look at the color..."

He proceeds to talk about the color, calling it maroon. I ask if it's red. He makes a face and says, "Ummm. Let's go take a look at another car in the same color."

We go out to the car lot and start walking toward a car that can only be described as purple. He tries to tell me in some lights you wouldn't be able to tell, to which my only response can be, "Sure, in the dark." As he continues to try to sell me on the Barney mobile I try to explain that he might as well be showing me an orange car. He tries to tell me it's more of a 'wine' color to which I respond, "Sure, purple wine."   There is a back and forth. I make clever wise cracks, he doesn't get me. Rinse & repeat.

 

At the end of the day, it went a little like this:  "I did say that I didn't care about the color.  This is putting me to the test. You can say whatever you like about this car, in which light it would look like what.  The bottom line is I will always know, in my heart of hearts, that I am driving a purple car."

Not only was it a purple, as if that wasn't bad enough, it had cream white interior.  You would think they would be paying ME to drive that bad boy. You'd think wrong.  

I was put to the test.  Guess what the score was?

We didn't get the purple powered truck.

Family Time & Time Served

Oh hello. How do you do? I'm back. We're back. It's great to be back. You might be wondering, "Where the hell have they been?"  Maybe you saw the last post and thought, "Oh well - they are settling into their new routine!"

I'd say a little bit of yes, but mostly a healthy heaping of no, not quite.

Side note & disclaimer: This is one of those moments I wish I hadn't shared my URL with family. Sorry people. But I'm going to stay true to what I want for this space, and just be out with it. Also, for the record - this is not meant in any other way but how I actually mean it: with all due respect, a little bit of raw venting and a scoop of sarcasm & snarky personality. You know, aka, my charm. Layman's terms? Don't take it personal. 

Whoever said that having a new baby was tough work, didn't have 3 weeks of family visits back to back. Truth: that was the real adjustment; not the tiny human.

We love that everyone wanted to come. We love that everyone got to spend some seriously good quality time with L and JJ. We love that everyone got to visit the STL. We love a lot of the last 3 weeks, but DANG it's exhausting. Of course everyone wanted to help; hold the baby, help with meals, help with clean up on aisle Guarro. It was great for a lot of reasons. It's also a lot to deal with.

First, it's overwhelming even though no one wants it to be - it just IS. Everyone tries to avoid it, but it's life. We have to figure out meals, things to do, making sure everyone has what they need, turns in the bathroom, where to eat, when to eat, what to eat, just day to day. Add to that our own schedule, hang ups and routines? It's overwhelming.  Everyone is a little different, and having a revolving door of visitors means no down time and just a continued ride through the door. For three weeks we had people arriving, then leaving and later that day arriving.  Exhausting.

Since our move, L has barely gotten back into regular schedule only for it to be thrown up on it's head (again).  Every grandparent believes in different sleep patterns (none of which are in line with ours), nutrition needs (none of which are in line with ours), and discipline expectations (none of which are in line with ours). As a result, home girl was MORE than a wee bit wound at the end of each stay.  The thing is, grandparents aren't supposed to be concerned with these things- it's about the fun - it should be.  It's also usually a day or two, not large blocks of time. Problem with that? After 3 weeks... it's not so much fun for the parents.  L started to take on some habits that might be common for other kids, but not OUR kid.  We're lucky; she's a well behaved kid, makes good decisions and is pretty amazing overall.  Is she perfect? Absolutely not, but regularly misbehaving and talking back? Doesn't happen. After a month of different scheduling? Home girl was acting out, screaming "NO" in our face, stomping around, huffing and puffing, tantruming about dinner or about anything and crying for no reason.  She is a creature of habit and needs structure; without it she's a hott mess.

Second, we (barely) have space for people, but unlike previous homes we do actually have a spare bed and space. I don't know how comfortable it was, but like I said, it is what it is. Where we don't have space? Vehicles. C's car barely has enough room for the immediate family, with the new addition (and car seats). Enter my (poor) car. I have a completely unreasonable car as a mom, and now a mom of two.  (Side note: Shit. I'm a mother of two. When the hell did that happen?) It's what I have and we are going to get a bigger car at some point this year.  It's just been slightly busy lately so you can imagine it hasn't been a priority. With that, we can't go anywhere together (with more than 2 adults and 2 kids), without taking two cars. On the other side of the coin, no one can drive the ball and chain's car, other than me.  If anyone wanted to go anywhere, they had to drive my car. My car, as much as I love it, is older, a convertible and small. It has it's own charm, but it also has things like sensitive steering column and ignition, loud side effects (the convertible top is not electric, so you can hear the wind coming through as you drive), and it turns out it is falling apart.  Every new driver would come home with another report of something going wrong with it.  The glitch? We couldn't do much about it because without the car, the next leg of visitors would be home bound.

Three weeks ago, when I last drove the car, there was ONE tail light out. After three weeks of the revolving door of drivers, as I write this I await hearing from our new mechanic whom I have become close with after days of conversations. I'm learning so much about cars.  I might become certified to fix vehicles during my maternity leave.  After three weeks of not driving, I drove my car the other day to the mechanic to get looked at. Now? My reunion with my car included issues such as, but not limited to: back brakes (totally grinding - metal to metal need replacing), tail light replacement, new headlight, turn signals out and not working, parking break replacement, something about an axle, oil dipstick replaced, and finally a broken glove box.  Doesn't that sound like something Hallmark movies are made of?

Finally, while there isn't much a baby does at this point - what she does effects the rest of the house. Some people think, "never wake a sleeping baby." Those people? Do not include our doctor. We need to make sure she is eating regularly and getting on a regular schedule. This includes waking her up every two hours to make sure she's eating. And oh boy, does she like to eat. Two side effects of these facts? Comments & confusion.

Even our au pair seems to ask pretty regularly, "She's eating, again?"

Yes. YES. She's eating again. Every two hours people. Every.Two.Hours.

Some people, even if they don't mean to, seem to be visibly confused when I'm trying to wake up the baby. Alternately, everyone wants to hold the baby - and doing so, the kid falls asleep which is what we are trying to avoid. Insert me trying to wake up the kid and the cycle continues.

Also (not) fun? Breastfeeding, every two hours, with a house full of people. I've talked about how I'm not a huge fan of public breastfeeding. I don't know what it is, I'm not comfortable. Yes, I believe it's a gift that I can breastfeed. Yes, I believe it's the right of women to do so or not - wherever, however. Yes, I believe it isn't obscene. Yes, I believe it's natural. Yes, I am a total prude and it freaks me out.

With L, I was definitely worse about it. I was covered up more, even in front of the husband. This time around? It's just different. I'm not as freaked out by it, but I certainly am not going to be whipping them out. I still use my cover up - even in the house, with or without family in the house.  That said, having the house full of people and most that are super uncomfortable with it - makes for an even MORE uncomfortable situation. It's like salt on the awkward wound.

At the end of our sentence the month, to say we were ready to spend some time with our new family of four, would be true. To say we raised our fist in the air and may have pumped them with delight saying "Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, Free.At.Last." May also be true.

Does that mean we love our family any less? Absolutely not. Does that mean we didn't appreciate the time, energy and money it means to visit us? Absolutely not. Does that mean we didn't appreciate the help and added love, hugs, and hands we had around the house? Absolutely not.

It means we love our family, as we hope our girls love us.  For the immediate time being and forever more, we're a family of our own with our own roles to figure out. Currently the role of best damn big sister is being played by L, best damn father, helper & cook is being played by the ball and chain, the cow, cranky B is being played by yours truly and the hungriest, farts like a man, adorable cherub of a baby girl is being played by JJ.

Stay tuned though, the roles are always shifting... I hope sooner rather than later!

Santa baby, just slip a gift card under the tree, for me...

Disclaimer: I'm a hypocrite.*

*While I usually do my disclaimers at the end of a post, I have to start by saying I recognize how hypocritical the following is going to be. I can only attribute the need to type this to the new understanding on how weird and wrong I was. 

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photo credit: random google images search -
 specific site may or may not have a weird loop hole to
serious dirty pictures thus not siting here, sorry. 
Needed the picture not the crotch shots  & my own editing fun

I have a new suggestion for the holidays. Let's all bring a stack of cash to our respective holiday gatherings. Let's keep it classy, and stay away from singles.  In the spirit of the holidays which has clearly turned into exchanging cash, let's just keep it simple. What you give me I'll give you. Why not? Right? That's what Santa had in mind. The rumors of Santa's little helpers making toys is clearly just that: rumors. 

I don't know, call me old fashion, but isn't gift giving about giving someone something they wouldn't normally purchase on their own? A gift is something special? Maybe something they need? I looked it up, I'm right - something acquired without compensation. Isn't exchanging cash compensation?

The holidays are out of control.  As a gift giver for nieces, nephews, cousins, parents, partners, brothers, sisters, child and sometimes etc; it is becoming clear that we have lost our focus. When your own wallet is affected it hits home faster, I guess. 

I know I have asked for gift cards in the past, as suggestions, giving stores I frequent. The older I get the more I realize that was wrong and I apologize. Now that I am older and I have a TON of people requesting straight up cash and/or gift cards from me I realize how freaking ridiculous I was. I can only say that I was younger and didn't realize what a complete boob I was being. Also, I think I asked my parents for said gift cards - which feels less wrong to me.  I was trying to make things easier, as necessary since apparently no one understands or knows me. Apparently, I'm the world's most difficult person to shop for (I find this almost hilarious since anyone who REALLY knows me should know what I like).  

Maybe the reason I hate gift cards the most is because you can't sneak in deals.  The gift receiver knows just how much you spent. How is that fun? I like to hide my frugal prowess behind gifts that look more expensive than they are.  Maybe that's wrong? Gift giving shouldn't be about the skill to spend the least amount of money possible, right? Although I don't know - the Target woman seems to believe saving is the key to the happiest of holidays.


I do appreciate Christmas lists.  When asked, what do you need or any special requests - I get that you could give someone an idea of what you have your eye on; I'll take that.  I can also accept responsibility for being horrible at this.  Providing people with what I want or need is NOT a strength. I'm actually pretty horrible at it.   With out spending everyday with someone you may not know what they have their eye on. Hell, I spend every single day with the ball and chain and all he wants are socks. Seriously: socks. That's it.  After being stumped last year, I started a note with in my iPhone that was an ongoing list of thoughts for gift ideas - for him, for the kid, for me. Knowing that Thanksgiving would come and shortly after that the on slot of requests for "the" Christmas list.  Oh how I miss the days of checking out the Toys R Us catalog folding down the pages of all the things I absolutely needed Santa to bring me.  I thought my plan was fool proof; what a fool I was.  There were a few small things I wrote down this year as SOON as I hear him mutter, "that's cool."  Unfortunately, I gave those secrets away and I am left with nothing and literally almost NO clue on what to get. It's not fair. I am so freaking easy. He is the hardest person to buy for, but does he ask for gift cards? No, he does not.  Do I wish I could give him gift cards? Yes,  sometimes.  Though since my money is his and vice versa - that would be even more hilarious than the gift card fever going on in my neck of the woods. 

What happened to giving the person the chance to "get it right" and hopefully they give you a gift receipt.  Side note:  anyone who does not provide a gift receipt is re-gifting OR trying to make your life difficult, in my opinion.  Re-gifting? Seriously, good for you but you better be making a safe bet otherwise why even give anything? Seriously.  Making my life difficult? Why? What did I do to you? 

OK back to the point, let's say the person doesn't get it right and they provide you with a gift that won't work for you. Perhaps the size isn't quite right or you already have that brooch or game?  Then, with the receipt you can quietly make your gift card dreams come true by way of returning. How fun is it really to open up envelopes with gift cards and nothing else?

The bitch of this whole tirade is (well there are a few things): 

1. My mother is going to automatically assume I am talking about her.  It's not you - it's the idea and spirit behind Christmas that I am finding particularly annoying. This is a pattern I have noticed Christmas wide, not on any particular side or person. Also, you didn't ask for gift cards, you asked for black socks. Seriously? Who asks for socks for Christmas? OH yeah, my husband - perpetuating the issue here. 
2. If anyone got me a gift card, I am pretty sure they haven't even gotten this far as they are on the way back to the store. That is not the point. I like gift cards. I think they are effective and important. I love receiving them. I think they are a smart gift idea when you are stumped. What I do not like is how they are taking over the holidays and people are solely requesting gift cards. That's my issue. Give me my damn gift card. 
3. If I got a list of stores you like (not you, Mom, I'm talking to any gift requester) and sizes, as requested - perhaps I would end up going with a gift card inside a small thing from that store. It would be my choice and I would feel more in control of the gift.  (Maybe this clearly is my own issue then? Nah.) Instead of just asking for cash? 

Does no one see how ridiculous the holidays are becoming? Also, besides gift cards, what should I get the ball & chain. Seriously. It's gift cards all day long with out some kind of direction. 

*Final disclaimer, I am hesitant to hit "publish post" because I am always misunderstood.  Also, I want the gift cards I know that have already been purchased for me. I will leave you (now I am talking to you Mom) with this: grain of salt. Take what I say with a grain of salt. 99.9% of what I say is mostly meant for the laugh of it all.  Sarcasm may be the language of the devil, but it makes me giggle and (jokingly) complaining is the name of my game. If you can't handle it (now I'm talking to anyone who takes the post personally, not just you, Mom) with out meaning to sound like a total and complete Grinch: I would suggest loosing this URL. I need to be me here and I need you to understand me and not take it all so seriously. That's what I want for Christmas - that and gift cards. 

This Fattie Wants to Make Out

Have you seen or heard about the big fat hoopla over at Marie Claire? Long story short some yahoo (who admittedly has body image issues and a dangerous history with anorexia) wrote a post, published through Marie Claire about how overweight people shouldn't make out on TV (commentary on a new TV show that I have never seen, Mike & Molly) because (and I'm quoting) 

"So anyway, yes, I think I'd be grossed out if I had to watch two characters with rolls and rolls of fat kissing each other ... because I'd be grossed out if I had to watch them doing anything. To be brutally honest, even in real life, I find it aesthetically displeasing to watch a very, very fat person simply walk across a room — just like I'd find it distressing if I saw a very drunk person stumbling across a bar or a heroine addict slumping in a chair."

I don't want to link to the donkey. But I guess if I don't the following won't make sense. Much like her post. I'm likely going to comment on a ton of her donkey remarks because I just can't help it.  I would, however, like to point you to and link the hell out of the best damn response to her post that I ever did see. 

TwoBusy over at MamaPop * discovered* some unpublished drafts to the original post.  You should check it. 

Ok, not as funny is my response to the whole thing. I actually commented on the article, despite being forced to make an account with the rat bastards of Marie Clarie. Which, I implore you to re-think ever buying again. It seems dramatic, doesn't it? While I'm all for the drama at times, I assure you I am not over exaggerating this here. Donkey.

Here's the thing. I DO actually believe that everyone has a right to express they opinion, however donkey it is. Truly. 100%. I think why this excursion of her right irritates me to no end is the mode in which the message was delivered. Through a women's magazine. Like we don't have enough issues and then she is allowed to (and this unnamed VP of Donkeyville or editor or whatever) push the publish button.  I'm not IT person or know much at all about the publishing world, but I'm thinking for her story to get published through a major magazine, that someone had to do it for her - I'm assuming it isn't as easy as Blogger or WordPress where you just press "publish." Someone OK'd this. Someone thought it was a good idea. Let's pretend for FUN that it slipped through the cracks that someone didn't read the text of the post that had such hits as:

• "Now, don't go getting the wrong impression: I have a few friends who could be called plump. I'm not some size-ist jerk." 
• "What do you guys think? Fat people making out on TV — are you cool with it? Do you think I'm being an insensitive jerk?"
• "And while I think our country's obsession with physical perfection is unhealthy, I also think it's at least equally crazy, albeit in the other direction, to be implicitly promoting obesity!"
• Side note: no one is "promoting obesity" just a show about people who are overweight / probably medically obese - being happy. God forbid. And holy crap, they make out. Let's hope that's all they do. 
  
  

OK back to our pretend world where someone wasn't doing their job and didn't read at up to 6 sentences and actually caught one of the 6-10 sentences that wasn't obesely offensive. The title is:  Should "Fatties" Get a Room? (Even on TV?)

Inside and *discovered* picture of her creative process.

Long story long,  my disgust, though may seem is directed at her - is really for the whole kit and caboodle of Marie Claire. 

I don't know if she or anyone will really read the comment I left on the site.  As I typed it out I realized 99.9% of what I was writing was more for my own sanity than it was for her benefit or education, thus this post was born.  I went back and forth with to comment or not. Ultimately I wanted them to know, hoping there would a chance that someone over at that circus would read it, even if it was a peon Donkey,  Marie Claire lost a few customers in my household.  Is L buying magazines? No, but home girl will be advised against it once she becomes legal to purchase such crap.   Does that matter to them? Who knows. 

To add insult to injury, the author updated her post with an apology. Even that was redickOHdonkey (definition: so ridiculous it's donkey ridiculous). Her suspected forced apology was even out of control.  Apparently the author has had body image issues for the better part of her life (welcome to the club) and this has become dangerously extreme as she battled with anorexia (which apparently in her mind is a disease, but not obesity, but she's not a 'size-ist' whatever that is) - anyway this fact "could" have something to do with her opinions on weight. You think? Even that irritates me. She might as well have said, "So sorry fat people, but I can't help but force the need for thin, I can't help it. " Meanwhile, back at the Donkey Ranch another piece of her irritating original post was where she advised people who are overweight with sage advice like looking at nutrition labels, eat more fiber and exercise. Holy crap - the holy grail of weight loss. Eureka! Oh and then she follows up her advice with: "YOU CAN DO IT!" Jesus christ, skinny mini, you're right when you put it in caps, I really BELIEVE IT!

Now to be fair, I'm not morbidly obese, at least I don't think so - I think I'm just obese not morbidly? Not sure.  I have more to love, let's put it that way.  As someone who has been forever dealing with weight - loss and gain all I want to do is smack her. Like really knock her out. I have forever been surrounding by friends and family dealing with body image and wanting to change the way they look.  Why? For health reasons or just plain superficial reasons. If they aren't trying to loose weight today, they will be trying tomorrow - they will change their lifestyle, they will live and die by their nutritional labels and will do what they can on physical activity - whether it's get a trainer, go to the gym or just walk more -they are always going to try. Let's pretend they don't. Let's pretend all of us fatties are just sitting around and eating ice cream and packing in the carbs, riding our people movers around to avoid exerting ourself. Do we not DESERVE love? Or just some plain action? Because it makes the skinny girls sad or squimish? Turn your god damn head. Donkey, what KIND of person does deserve to make out? What KIND of person can you deal with finding love? Or forget love - again - just a good old fashion tussle. A) why are you watching? B) Who CAN get a little action in your book? Apparently you can't watch "them" do much of anything? Shall we all become shut ins that will need to be lifted from our home eventually - destined to be confined to our home because of your weak ass stomach? 

Anyway, so then she "apologizes" and I think this is where I got the most angry, I'm fairly certain I blacked out in rage.

"But perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to judge based on superficial observations."

Perhaps? Really, you go in with an apology with perhaps you shouldn't be judgmental? Perhaps.

I'm not calling for her resignation or anyones really.  There should have been some BIG OLD 'disclaimer' stating the blog post was the author's (ridiculous and however much I disagree with them) opinion - and she has a right to have them. Like I said, I think what makes me so angry is how it is backed up by a woman's magazine.  She could have written it on a personal blog and I would have thought she was being a donkey and wrong. It's posted on a recognized women's magazine and blog site? 

I have the most intense and absolutely sickening disrespect and disappointment in an industry - and frankly humans. Why so dramatic? Because as PEOPLE and HUMANS in the world today - representing women - we deserve better than what they provided us with - and that choice was made. So yeah, PERHAPS she should back up her fellow women, PERHAPS she should be respectful. PERHAPS she should be an example.

Rant is now over, me and my overweight self is going to go and make out now. Cover your eyes, Tiny - I don't know how you'll feel about overweight people making out, dressed in drag as women who are the super skinny you think we should all be - so consider yourself warned.

The Olsens get REAL

(ps Halloween 2006... it's not REALLY them!)

Mommy Needs a Time Out

We are blessed. I am blessed. I know I'm lucky. I have a kick ass life, by in large. 

That said...

Sht is hitting the ceiling (schizophrenia anyone??). 

The other day I was pretty sure the day had beat me.  There is too much to do.  Too. Much. To. Do. Our lights blew out (for the bazillionith time).  This time the lights came on dim and I learned we have a fire alarm that works.  Fortunately no fire - but total  inconvenience.  I think as a trigger to the fuse blowing or dimming - my hard drive needed a timeout.  I thought it was dead for a good hour or two and would soon be going up in smoke.  I lost files and had almost no Internet at the later part of the day.  I work from home, this was not affecting blogging (which I'm not doing enough), photo uploading (I haven't done), telling my tale of the amazing trip we just got back from (I only have day 2 drafted, there were 8 flipping days) or even checking my personal email to reply to any of my messages which currently (and for awhile at this point) heavily out weigh my work in box balance. Not right.  You know what else I haven't had time to do? Rewrite that last sentence so it isn't so conversational you tune me out. 

Too. Much. To. Do.

C has been traveling on the constant.  When he isn't, I am.  The "good news" is - we usually don't overlap travel dates and I usually travel on the weekends. The bad news? When he comes home, I leave.  I am or will be gone for many weekends to come.  It isn't all work, but it isn't all play either. 

Too. Much. To. Do.

How do people manage? I know I am not always the best organized or even go at things at the (close to) right way but I can't help but feel like how can I get it so wrong?

PS. I should go to bed right now. Maybe that would help.

Too. Much. To. Do.

Last Christmas in New York: 2009

Last year we were a delinquent family. Between C's travel schedule & my work schedule we barely remembered Christmas was upon us. Between all that and technical difficulties when I was camera less for the blessed holidays - no pictures. No holiday cards, promises of Happy MLK Day Cards - with no follow through. We suffered through another holiday season away from home, vowing to never do it again.

And then we did. This year we did get out the holiday card - alas lots of confusion attached since apparently Abelle is a stranger to most. I got many a text, email, phone call or face to face question - "I loved the card, but who is Anabelle?" OR "Congratulations! When did you have another girl?"

It's not that I don't love family time - the loud lulls of screeching. The awkward jokes, the mayhem of crowds. I love all that. Of course, and of course, the undercut or straight out knock outs of insults from the dear elderly. Who wouldn't love all that? That isn't it - it's not the inability to keep L on a regular schedule or who would want to miss out on the constant parenting tips? Not I. The hours in the car, the hours thinking about the hours in the car, the hours it takes to pack, unpack, repack, unpack, pack up, unpack and repack then unpack again. The days of laundry to follow - oh and dog hair for as far as you can see.

Of course I do love the time L gets to spend with her family - getting to know everyone and make new memories. That we do love. The way she lights up when she seems familiar faces and those that she is just starting to remember. We love all that. There does, however, come a time where a family has to make their own traditions and own memories that don't include hours of unnecessary travel to pacify the masses. There comes a time where we need to pacify ourselves. We'll miss the crowds during the holidays, we will miss managed chaos - but with all of the missing I know we'll welcome the chance to make our own traditions. You are all invited. Our house, holidays 2010. Family, friends and strangers - you are more than welcome. I want her to know a holiday in her own home - one that is random, full of laughs, and full of sitting in our pjs, drinking coffee while watching her figure out how the heck that guy got down the fireplace to drop off all her goodies.

More of this:

Less of this:

The Price of Fame

Almost 2 months ago I made promises I certainly can't keep. A few months before that we made decisions I apparently couldn't follow through with. Life keeps getting harder and everyday I am reminded of the path we are taking and why we are roughing it. Too cryptic?

Long story short: I'm tired, defeated, hopeful, sad, happy, blessed, lucky, cursed, all in all a whirlwind.

I am a full time mother, wife, friend, family member, employee and manager and while I claim to kick ass and want to be the very best of the best; everyday the scale tips a little bit and something suffers. This balancing act of life is something that I continue to work on, though recently I'm feeling I'm not 100% sure of who is driving and where in the hell we are headed. So I sit in the passenger seat, doing what I do best and being a backseat driver. No one likes a back seat driver. I could have I would have I should have I need to I want to I have to.

C & I moved to make life easier, to improve our quality of life. That was the reason. End of story. When people ask why did we move there are reasons I can point to, of course, as they were the catalist of our decision making but ultimately the answer is as simple as "because." Because our life in Boston, while fun, exciting, city living and all that - was also full of rushing, traveling, working, rushing, always late, always behind, always in need of more, always guilty, always juggleing, always always always something more than just sitting still. I sound lazy, don't I?

Whatever> I want to sit freaking still. Is that too much to ask? We moved for lots of reasons. C's travel schedule was killing us both and my work schedule was constant. Between the two of us we were rarely home (together) and our schedules didn't allow us to be able to spend the kind of quality time we want to spend with L. Moving to CT brought us closer to all of C's work destinations so that his commute to said sites would be shorter and would mean less overnights away. Moving to CT brought us closer to family & friends so that we would be able to see people more with out the layer of resentment or guilt each time we wanted to or had to go to see people. L needs to know her kin. And through out the last few years one by one most of our friends were moving out of the city and settling down close to home... their home no longer being MA. It made sense to move. It made sense to take time away from work and spend time working on life.

The best laid plans.

Now, as (our) luck would have it we are home even less than we were before and we when we are, the other one isn't. We are both traveling constantly for work and if I'm not he is. When we aren't traveling we are working later than late or up at o'dark thirty. The proximity to friends and families also means an increase of visits which then means anytime we would be home to just sit and relax we aren't. It's a hard knock life right now. I'm hoping that at the end of day it all works out and all of this is worth it in the end.

Oh. And that's why I haven't had time to post sht. FYI.

The Yoga Class that Broke the Camel's Back

Maybe there are American Idol fans out there than know the song that should be playing during this story - but if not the chorus goes like this...

Because you had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera don't lie
You're coming back down and you really don't mind
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

The song is playing? Good. Now to set it up. This actually happend a week or so ago, but I hadn't pressed post just yet... I have been tired and sick for a week - like congested sick where you can't sleep (with out the assistance of my dear old friend) and still unable to take anything but my d.o.c. and frankly it isn't choice. But you've had a day like this where it didn't start great and it just seems to be getting worse. Questions that need to be answered, questions that get asked and answered and answered again. Calls coming in, requests coming in. Gotta go gotta do gotta go. More questions, more answers - sometimes it takes everything inside not to scream "FORGET MY NAME." And ordinarily on a day not like today I'm happy to be helpful. Every once in awhile it all becomes too much... and that's where we are today. At 5:30 pm it was T&G and frankly it wasn't anything particular that was said or wasn't said - although it was probably the way it was said - but I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Just straight up tired - sick and tired of saying the same thing and it not being understood having the same request and being told I had to fill out a form I already did, but I did it wrong - and can't you just do this or that - it doesn't matter and I understand I am rambling but this is to make me feel better, not you.

The tears are welling, and my patience is an E but I will not be broken. I will not cry.

I focus on the computer screen and start to close things down - I hope C is home. If not I'm late and I hate being late. I call the dear ol'husband and despite my last entry he yelled- he was snappy. Since my first day back to work (end of February, people), for months if he was going to be late he shot an email or gave a call - today he didn't and now we are late. "It's been in the calender for week." Note to self or anyone who cares, I checked the damn calender (we have one- true story). Nothing in there but birthdays.

Tears building I have to go - and I have to run red lights to boot. The last thing I need is to take my stupid bowl from lunch and clean it out - yet have I had a chance to do that yet? No. So I storm over to go through the kitchen - again not wanting the first tear to fall because otherwise I'm broken when I get to the door and walk in on a full out crouching tiger hidden dragon yoga class.

Fuck.

Relaxation for them, flood gates broken for me.

Oil Change

This past weekend was the long awaited and highly anticipated Blessed Event... L's baptism. OH Holy Night.

Like all of our trips to NY we learned a few things...

• No description can ever meet the reality of meeting family for the first time.
• Having a cake is a necessary part of the sacrament of baptism.
  
• For a bargain price of $15 you can get 10 lbs of frosting and 2 inches of cake- it's delicious affordable and you know Jesus was smiling since he too had cake at his Baptism.
  
• Costco doesn't open until 10am, the masses start lining up at 9:40am. And grandmas will break a hip (yours) if you get in the way.
  
• You should never put a flight of stairs between people and their food.
  
• Strangers are the spice of life.
• It's dark in Piermont, NY. Very dark. The mass at the church had a Priest who had an accent and the only things we took away from the service was that people burned alive in a car and several were shot (or left in a lot, we are unsure the details).
• Print directions. Even for those that have a GPS systems and even if the next destination is .2 miles down the same road.
  
• A proven anti-theft system is use larger than life objects.
  
• Our Priest continues to have wacka-do phrases and it's getting worst. Like receiving her Baptism is like an oil change- it helps to keep the car running smoothly.
  

Mainly it's clear everyone is shocked that we've managed to keep L alive for the last 6 months.

"What'd you do to the baby?"
"Why is the baby crying? She never cries."
"Is the baby hungry?"
"Are you spoiling the baby?"
"Why are you spoiling the baby?"
"Will the baby be cold?"
"Should you put the baby in a coat?"
"Is the baby going to be cold?"
"Why is the baby cranky?" (the answer was she was getting sick)
"She's not sick." (she had a fever and the beginnings of a runny nose, also she had her 6 month shots the day before.)
"Why'd you get the shots yesterday? Why didn't you plan it differently?"

Meanwhile, sick people kissed up on the child... let's see... is she going to get a cold wrapped in a blanket OR by being slobbered on by an already sick person? I think even Jamie Lynn Spears will know the answer to this question.

One of my favorite "WHO ASKED YOU?" moments was when someone asked, "Are you going to take that binky out of her mouth? You can't even see her face." Keep in mind, the binky was completely clear. I take the bink out and L proceeds to SCREAM as if I pulled off her finger. I turn and ask (a stranger), "Can I put it back in now?" I did and like magic she played on.

Dissatsified Customer

Dear God,

I'm writing to you in regards to my recent experience with one of your representatives. I'm sure you know this, seeing as you are all knowing, however I felt it important to document my dissatisfaction with my experience.

I have been a customer of yours for 28 years. While not always a consistent patron, I am in the business to be a repeat customer for the foreseeable future or until my youngest completes his or her confirmation. From there, you'll be sure to hear from me upon the announcement of engagement by one of my children. At that time, I will act like a faithful client as if I never left. I keep in touch though, so it's not like you never hear from me. I call, I visit- more than most! I would think, based on recent news coverage that does not bode favorable for your business, the least I could receive is an experience that feels somewhat cooperative. Instead I have gone through nothing short of constant hoop jumping.

I won't rehash all the drama we had to go through to find a church to marry us- the letters, the phone calls, the classes. We found a good church, even though the only reason we got in was due to nepotism. Maybe I would understand if we weren't returning to the very same establishment or if years had passed and new priests had come to town. I don't understand, because for Your sake, it's been a year!!!! We want to have L christened at the same church we were married in. The same Priest is there- how is it we have to once again produce letters that state we are Catholic and can have our daughter baptised in a church. It's a year later. What kind of horrible Catholic could we have become in one short year???

Now here is where my current compliant comes in. After all the hoopla to get the stamp of approval to have L baptised in NY, to avoid the pilgrimage to Boston from our family, we have fulfilled all that we were told we needed to. Several calls where made to check and double check dates, times and permission slips needed. Everything that was necessary was sent with a letter asking for a confirmation call to let me know that I was given clearance for the blessed event. I received no such call. When I called to make sure that everything was good to go, I received contradictory information, from the same person that I have spoken to several times previously- that married us, for Your sake. After a confusing and high levels of frustration- we got the final confirmation that L can come on the originally agreed upon date. Before he hangs up, he informs me that the God Parents need letters too. What's with all the letters? Honestly. Even after all the calls and all the questions- what else will we need? Now he decides they need letters too, and when I tried to explain they were God Parents already- they've been cleared for G'Parenting. Nope, no good, no dice- letters are still needed "just to confirm they are still good Catholics."

I sat there and listened to this ridiculousness and the continued run around and I smiled. I wanted to be sarcastic and give him a piece of my mind, I did less paperwork to get into college! It's all I could do was to ask him to speak with his manager. Instead I decided to contact his Superior, which is what brings this letter to you. It's over, letters are being put together and the christening will likely take place with out a hitch. Change your policies, big man. We want to be part of your club, but do you have to make it so hard and convoluted? Help a girl out.

Many Thanks,
You know who.

Happiness Is...

Cold air. Freezing, cold air, wrapped up on the couch with a blanket, cold air.

I won't see that happiness until December or January. This weekend we waited around the house for our "helpful" handymen to arrive to put in a 800 lb a/c that has been taking up half of the kitchen for the last 4 months, fix the fans through out the house and put the closet doors back on their tracks. Our apartment may look pretty on their outside, but apparently it's falling apart from the inside out. It's Nicole Richie- a disaster waiting to happen.

When the posse arrives, they are of course no help. They are only able to install the a/c out the back window- perfect. Just where I need cool air. The kitchen. They are not able to fix any of the fans - and apparently are for show and "look only" now I would understand if they were attractive, maybe. But they are standard ugly ceiling fans- not a museum masterpiece.

In a foolish attempt to get the air to go into the living room from the kitchen I put up curtains, so that the air wouldn't fill the stairwells going downstairs to the front door of our apartment or up the stairs through to the 2nd floor. Now while we have a theatre set up- to which each time C comes up or down the stairs you hear him say- in his very best Vegas voice things like... "Ladies and Gentlemen, introducing, Christoph Guarraa-chino!" My idea didn't help- the kitchen is cold, the hallway is not too hot and the living remains hot. And comes through the curtains as if on Broadway. Our hopes of sitting pretty and cold were dashed- so I became understandably cranky, if you ask me.

My dear husband, god bless his soul, took me to Home Depot to fix the situation. He bought me the best present he had ever thought to buy me- almost as beautiful as the bling I once sported on my once prettier hands... this present was not even close to being as dainty. An a/c to end all a/c. A portable a/c that doesn't need to be in a window- I thought it was an angel. Watching C try to bring it up the stairs, sweat literally pouring down his face- I thought he'd make a deal with the devil to get the box up into the apartment. He did, we found a spot for it- hooked it in and turned the sweet machine on.

Ah but all the money, blood seat and tears aren't going to buy happiness. And neither did C, after all of that I wish I had a happy ending to share.

It's still freaking hot, and we're probably spending our wee one's college tuition on electricity... no happy ending here.

- J "exposed brick, hard wood floors and laundry mean nothing with out central air" Guarro

Dear Friends & Family of New York,

Although we love and enjoy seeing all of you, if I have to drive to NY one more f’ing time I am going to jab my eyeballs out and put them in Nanny’s lasagna. If we were keeping score, it would J & C 5000, everyone else none. If that was the Red Sox record we would be sitting on our free couch. So we have decided that in order for us to continue the treks, and the many many bathroom breaks that the trek comes with, you need to visit us in Boston at least two times. If you are refrain you will not see us or our new bundle of joy. Please save my eyeballs.
Love,
C

(notes taken on trip 5000 to NY by J)