1. Sport Illustrated photographer
2. Sports talk radio hostess on 1310 The Ticket (uh, the *first and only* hopefully)
3. Forensic Pathologist for the FBI (came *this* close to making this a reality)
4. Secret Agent for just about any secret government organization that is pursing truth, justice...okay, so this one gets complicated but it's because is *secret*!
5. French linguist travelling with an envoy or diplomat
6. Industrial Pscyhologist
7. Famous person -- on screen or in music -- and famous for my craft, not my personal life!
8. Bar owner
9. Personal Assistant to Simon LeBon would be groovy
10. ..and does trust fund baby count as a job?
Friday, March 30, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
More Peyton
Did you see Peyton Manning on SNL last night?? OMG how friggin funny! The funniest bit was this bit.
(Okay, I think I like him more and more....even though I hate to admit it!)
(Okay, I think I like him more and more....even though I hate to admit it!)
Friday, March 23, 2007
Chests 101
This evening, after Me Eldest arrived home from swimming, she showered. The shower is a new thing for her, and it's not really her first choice -- it's mine. It saves time as well as stress on my body (the kneeling, bending, stretching in awkard positions to help wash her hair, etc.). I think she's old enough to take (and actually like) the occasional shower, but it's always a negotiation....
But I digress.
My Eldest has been slightly noticing her chest lately. Sometimes she'll pull her bathing suit down and flash a tit and say, "do you wanna see my booby?". (OMG I am in *so* much trouble in 10 years!). Tonight, in the shower, she puts her hands under her 'boobs' as if to cup them and twists at the waist side to side. She looks down at the 'boobs' and then up at me and says, "do you like my boobies?"
I laugh, entertained. I also freak out, but don't show it.
"Yes, I do." I compliment her.
"Momma. How come God gave little girls flat boobies, but adult girls big ones?"
It's about now that I wish for a Manual of Parenting.
Trying to think on my toes, I kind of make this blanket statement, "well, honey, when you grow up, you'll probably have bigger ones like mommy; however, not all ladies get big ones." (sorry you A cuppers....and smaller...no offense. Promise!) I continue, "You'll get fuller breasts when you are able to have children." She is still oogling at her anatomy.
She thinks. She puts her hands down and decides it's time to wash her body. I hand her the loofa and squirt some liquid soap on it. She begins to wash. I stand outside the shower still, watching her, wondering if more is coming.
It did.
She stops, looks straight at me. "Well, Momma. I hope when I grow up, that I have some that stand up and out like this," (she puts her hands in front of her breast area as if indicating 'big pekry ones'). She continues matter-of-factly, "...not like the long saggy ones like you have!"
Thaaaaaaanks.
I didn't let that hurt me, really. We shared a laugh, and I simply said, "So do I, Love. So do I."
But I digress.
My Eldest has been slightly noticing her chest lately. Sometimes she'll pull her bathing suit down and flash a tit and say, "do you wanna see my booby?". (OMG I am in *so* much trouble in 10 years!). Tonight, in the shower, she puts her hands under her 'boobs' as if to cup them and twists at the waist side to side. She looks down at the 'boobs' and then up at me and says, "do you like my boobies?"
I laugh, entertained. I also freak out, but don't show it.
"Yes, I do." I compliment her.
"Momma. How come God gave little girls flat boobies, but adult girls big ones?"
It's about now that I wish for a Manual of Parenting.
Trying to think on my toes, I kind of make this blanket statement, "well, honey, when you grow up, you'll probably have bigger ones like mommy; however, not all ladies get big ones." (sorry you A cuppers....and smaller...no offense. Promise!) I continue, "You'll get fuller breasts when you are able to have children." She is still oogling at her anatomy.
She thinks. She puts her hands down and decides it's time to wash her body. I hand her the loofa and squirt some liquid soap on it. She begins to wash. I stand outside the shower still, watching her, wondering if more is coming.
It did.
She stops, looks straight at me. "Well, Momma. I hope when I grow up, that I have some that stand up and out like this," (she puts her hands in front of her breast area as if indicating 'big pekry ones'). She continues matter-of-factly, "...not like the long saggy ones like you have!"
Thaaaaaaanks.
I didn't let that hurt me, really. We shared a laugh, and I simply said, "So do I, Love. So do I."
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Who is Number One??
Today, My Little One turns ONE. Yes, a year ago today, I was revelling in the afterglow of childbirth. I was learning to nurse all over again. I was learning to get rest efficiently all over again. I was sucking down a gallon of water, chowing down on a Lenten meal (amazing the hospital knew that!). I was pissed off at the hospital for not bringing my baby to me sooner. I delivered her, we bonded for a brief time, then they swept her away to do all those things they do....but took entirely too long.
I was beaming smiles to my husband and My Eldest. I was wondering 'where the hell is Mom? Why is she doing yardwork instead of being here at the hospital??', and still, 'where the f*** is my baby??!" Buzzing the hospital staff. Talking to the techs as they came in. I didn't give a crap about shift changes, and paperwork, PKU tests, Hepatitis B shot, a bath. Dammit, let me have my baby girl!! (Never mind the hormones, the lack of sleep and the incredible stress my body just endured...)
She finally arrived and I didn't want to put her down. It was all I could to share her. Letting someone else hold her is what I imagine sending your kids off to college must feel like. Gut wrenching. Yet, all the well-wishes and visitors that came our way was amazingly amazing. It was times like My Little One's birth, that I realized just how loved I am. And I thank God.
Today's birthday celebration leaves me feeling no different. Not only do I realize how loved *I* am, I realize to some degree, how much *she* is loved.
Such a sweet and funny girl, she is. A huge ball of sunshine to all of us, whether you know her or not. Smiley when she wakes up, demanding with her food. A joker like you would not believe -- already! A stunning blonde hair, blue eyed masterpiece of a woman. I will enjoy watching her grow and mature. While I'm enjoying it, I'll also be grieving it. :)
Her party was modest and a lot of fun. There were gifts, cake, snacks and unexpected visitors. She entertained everyone. She was in her element! Toward the end of the party, all the little girls dressed up. We had animals and princesses. Little One was a hula girl...and loved every second of it as you can tell by her laugh-filled smile in the picture above.
We solicited contributions to a time capsule for her. We have contributions still en route, too. We asked friends and family to write a note to her and seal it somehow. They were also invited to contribute a token of something historical to this time of the world, or even a personal gift or symbol of her relationship to that person/family. My best friend bought her a bracelet that her name on it. We took it off on her birthday and put it in the time capsule. One of our family friends has a brother who is serving in Iraq. He is going to collect a flag from every country that has flown in the war over Iraq and send it to us. Marvelous! Mommy put in a collectors card of Wonder Woman, and I'll be adding something Duran Duran, too. (If you're reading this and want to contribute, contact me!) She'll open the time capsule at some point in the future such as her 18th birthday, or other monumental occasion. (We did this for Our Eldest, too, who is a Y2K baby.)
Happy Birthday sweet girl. Mommy loves you abysmally and infinitely.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
So tell me what you *really* want....
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
1978
My favorite Duran Duran t-shirt is saved!! The bird poop came out.
Sadly, though, I don't want to wear it anymore. I might need to retire it. Might need to hold services for it. Might need to send it to Simon and maybe he'll send me a new one. (There I go dreaming again....)
But, on my Wish List is this one...which I *reeeeeallllyyyyy* want. It's a baseball style shirt. (hint hint for Birthday 37)
And since I'm being greedy, I want one of the kick-ass track-style jacket:
Okay -- enough Duran Duran clothing blog.
Reach up for the sunrise! Put your hands into the big sky! Reach up for the sunrise! Feel the new day enter your life!
Whoosh!
Saturday, March 03, 2007
I'd Like to Marry [redacted]
Okay, so he's taken...and, well, so am I. But a girl can still dream.....
https://www.redactedblog.blogspot.com
Besides my own, his is my favorite blog....
In fact, he's my favorite blogger (even over myself!). Of course, I haven't read EVERY SINGLE blogger's blog, but who gives a blog? I'm comfortable with Dan. I appreciate his sarcastic wit, among other things.
He's my blog made in heaven....*sigh*
https://www.redactedblog.blogspot.com
Besides my own, his is my favorite blog....
In fact, he's my favorite blogger (even over myself!). Of course, I haven't read EVERY SINGLE blogger's blog, but who gives a blog? I'm comfortable with Dan. I appreciate his sarcastic wit, among other things.
He's my blog made in heaven....*sigh*
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Evolution of a Ferocious Omnivore
Nine days before her first birthday, My Little One has *finally* revealed her first tooth!! What a grand one it is!
She gave her grandmother a hard time all day today. Cranky. Runny nose. Fever. Clingy. Not sleeping. Not eating well at all. Spitting out medicine. Spitting out food. Generally crabby and uncooperative, and well, female.
Grandmother's hard work paid off. Unfortunately she left before she knew that Little One spring a tooth on the bottom. We'll tell her tomorrow.
So, now My Little One is ferocious. She even tried to chomp me up!! She came right at me, mouth agape, voice growling at me, tooth barely peeking through, and nearly landed on my jugular! But I was agile. Luckily I averted the impending doom by tickling her!
Mommies always win. :)
She gave her grandmother a hard time all day today. Cranky. Runny nose. Fever. Clingy. Not sleeping. Not eating well at all. Spitting out medicine. Spitting out food. Generally crabby and uncooperative, and well, female.
Grandmother's hard work paid off. Unfortunately she left before she knew that Little One spring a tooth on the bottom. We'll tell her tomorrow.
So, now My Little One is ferocious. She even tried to chomp me up!! She came right at me, mouth agape, voice growling at me, tooth barely peeking through, and nearly landed on my jugular! But I was agile. Luckily I averted the impending doom by tickling her!
Mommies always win. :)
Friday, February 23, 2007
Aw Poop!
Today I had the blessing of staying home from work, although it wasn't as a result of something good. My mother in law cares for My Little One while we work. My mother in law is ill, so I had to stay home to care for My Little One (darn).
My Little One and I head out the door at 3:00 to pick up My Eldest from school. On the way out, I grab the diaper bag, my purse, the Barbie pool bag that Friend From Virginia handed down to us (thanks again y'all!). Arrive to the school by 3:10, wait in the pick up line, collect said Eldest and head downtown to swim lessons.
I've only taken My Eldest to swim lessons once or twice before, so I always get lost going to the facility. The swim center is at a major hospital here in Dallas, so it's literally a college campus area down there. Combine my lack of sense of direction, rush hour and bad memory and well...it's a formula for disaster.
I circle around twice trying to find the familiar street and parking lot. Suddenly, something overcomes me and I nearly pass out. No kidding. I smell poop. Special poop. It's poop that's been in the making for a good long while. It's fermented and ripe. I had to roll down the windows so I could quit suffocating. My Little One had soiled her diaper and all I could think was mean thoughts. This rank reminder of motherhood kept swirling around my nairs; it was all I could to do get to the swim center.
I find it without having to circle a third time. My Eldest is giggling and making fun of My Little One. I said, Oh Little One -- *that* is *rank*! Eldest giggles out the question, "what is rank, mommy?" I tell her the definition. She registers it in her vocabulary repertoir. (Ahh -- my little language sponge. Love it! She's just like me. *preen*)
I planned to take the girls into the swim facility, change diaper on baby then get big sister ready for swimming. Best laid plans...what's that saying? It applies here. As soon as I pick up the baby.....squish. I close my eyes.
To Eldest I say, "uhhh, I think mommy's going to change the diaper here." Yeah. The diaper isn't the only thing that needed changing. We ended up throwing THE WHOLE OUTFIT into the dumpster. There was warm baby poop everywhere. Oh it's so disgusting. I feel dirty just typing it here. Poor Eldest. I'm trying to get help from her. I ask her to hand me a wipe at a time. She doesn't get it. So I'm barking at her. She gets more flustered and therefore less helpful. Little One is crying and squirming dirty nasty ass all over the changing pad. I am dropping wipe after soiled wipe on the pavement. Eldest can't get over that part. She keeps asking me quesitons unrelated to her task. I continue to bark at her. She continues to get uneasy. Bad, bad ju-ju.
As always, we manage. Little one is now dressed in a onesie and her tennis shoes. Looked totally funny. She's much happier though. She's the only one happy. Changing this diaper must've taken 15 mintues. Now we're almost late to the swim class. Why can't things EVER go the way I plan them??
Fast forward to after class. We are walking out to the parking lot to head home. Everyone's recovered. Plop, drip I feel on my shoulder. I stop walking. "Eldest," I beckon, as I turn my back to her, "did a bird just poop on me?"
She busts out laughing. "Yes, mommy! Ewww gross!!"
I nod my head and continue walking. A bird shat on me. It shat on my favorite Duran Duran t-shirt. What a perfect way to end the swim class -- the same way it started -- shitty.
My Little One and I head out the door at 3:00 to pick up My Eldest from school. On the way out, I grab the diaper bag, my purse, the Barbie pool bag that Friend From Virginia handed down to us (thanks again y'all!). Arrive to the school by 3:10, wait in the pick up line, collect said Eldest and head downtown to swim lessons.
I've only taken My Eldest to swim lessons once or twice before, so I always get lost going to the facility. The swim center is at a major hospital here in Dallas, so it's literally a college campus area down there. Combine my lack of sense of direction, rush hour and bad memory and well...it's a formula for disaster.
I circle around twice trying to find the familiar street and parking lot. Suddenly, something overcomes me and I nearly pass out. No kidding. I smell poop. Special poop. It's poop that's been in the making for a good long while. It's fermented and ripe. I had to roll down the windows so I could quit suffocating. My Little One had soiled her diaper and all I could think was mean thoughts. This rank reminder of motherhood kept swirling around my nairs; it was all I could to do get to the swim center.
I find it without having to circle a third time. My Eldest is giggling and making fun of My Little One. I said, Oh Little One -- *that* is *rank*! Eldest giggles out the question, "what is rank, mommy?" I tell her the definition. She registers it in her vocabulary repertoir. (Ahh -- my little language sponge. Love it! She's just like me. *preen*)
I planned to take the girls into the swim facility, change diaper on baby then get big sister ready for swimming. Best laid plans...what's that saying? It applies here. As soon as I pick up the baby.....squish. I close my eyes.
To Eldest I say, "uhhh, I think mommy's going to change the diaper here." Yeah. The diaper isn't the only thing that needed changing. We ended up throwing THE WHOLE OUTFIT into the dumpster. There was warm baby poop everywhere. Oh it's so disgusting. I feel dirty just typing it here. Poor Eldest. I'm trying to get help from her. I ask her to hand me a wipe at a time. She doesn't get it. So I'm barking at her. She gets more flustered and therefore less helpful. Little One is crying and squirming dirty nasty ass all over the changing pad. I am dropping wipe after soiled wipe on the pavement. Eldest can't get over that part. She keeps asking me quesitons unrelated to her task. I continue to bark at her. She continues to get uneasy. Bad, bad ju-ju.
As always, we manage. Little one is now dressed in a onesie and her tennis shoes. Looked totally funny. She's much happier though. She's the only one happy. Changing this diaper must've taken 15 mintues. Now we're almost late to the swim class. Why can't things EVER go the way I plan them??
Fast forward to after class. We are walking out to the parking lot to head home. Everyone's recovered. Plop, drip I feel on my shoulder. I stop walking. "Eldest," I beckon, as I turn my back to her, "did a bird just poop on me?"
She busts out laughing. "Yes, mommy! Ewww gross!!"
I nod my head and continue walking. A bird shat on me. It shat on my favorite Duran Duran t-shirt. What a perfect way to end the swim class -- the same way it started -- shitty.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Greatest Birthday Gift ... EVER
Last Saturday, two close-friends-families joined my family for HIBACHI dinner. Hibachi is highly entertaining, especially for the kiddos (once the get past their initial fright of fire). Just the very word HIBACHI is fun to say!! Anyway, it was a birthday celebration dinner. We threw in one October birthday from one of the families, a December birthday from the other family, and then mine. It was quite a fun night, indeed.
Gwynnethe, my friend from one of the families who tagged along, was so thoughtful! She bought me a gift. But it wasn't a picture frame, or a candle, or body wash. Nooooo. It was a gift so personal, so individually thought up, so carefully constructed, so cleverly original, that I just HAD to share it with you!
It's a CVS Survival Guide!! (See previous post that I can't figure out how to hyperlink properly. This best I can do. It's entitled "My Own Private....")
Contents of CVS Survival Guide:
* toy cell phone
* deoderant
* maxi pads
* playing cards
* a paperback novel
* water
* toothbrush
* toothpaste
* moisturizing cream
* a gift card
* a brush with 2 rubber bands
.....all of these products: CVS BRAND!!!
Gwynnethe, my friend from one of the families who tagged along, was so thoughtful! She bought me a gift. But it wasn't a picture frame, or a candle, or body wash. Nooooo. It was a gift so personal, so individually thought up, so carefully constructed, so cleverly original, that I just HAD to share it with you!
It's a CVS Survival Guide!! (See previous post that I can't figure out how to hyperlink properly. This best I can do. It's entitled "My Own Private....")
Contents of CVS Survival Guide:
* toy cell phone
* deoderant
* maxi pads
* playing cards
* a paperback novel
* water
* toothbrush
* toothpaste
* moisturizing cream
* a gift card
* a brush with 2 rubber bands
.....all of these products: CVS BRAND!!!
Now *that* took some thought!! Thank you, Gwynnethe -- and oh, no public apology was necessary, Love. Life gets in the way of a lot of fun things. We are friends and don't feel cheated in any way.
Whoosh!
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