Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Some people drink...


Last week I overheard my husband telling a stranger that I pay the electricity bill at Target. This isn't the first time he has said this, and I'm sure it won't be the last. It isn't really a lie if I'm being honest. I do shop at Target. A lot. It's my happy place. It's where I take the girls when we are bored. It's where I go when I need to get a way. But it didn't occur to me why I love Target so much until I heard my husband complaining about my Target addiction again. 

Target is my drug, my xanax, my Valium. It's my carb, my potato chip, my chocolate chip cookie, my red velvet cake. It's my glass of wine, my bottle of beer, my martini. It's my happy place, my 5k, my spin class, my Zumba.

Target is my happy place, my coping mechanism, my high.

It sounds funny, I know. How could Target be all of those things? I'm sure you hear women all the time talk about how much they love Target. How they spend hours shopping and looking around, buying things they don't need and always forgetting all the things they do. I'm like that too, but I love Target because it takes me away. I can lose myself in there for hours one end. And I always feel better after a trip to my happy place. 

Saturday, after spending the majority of the day at home, I packed the girls in the car and headed to Target. We really didn't need anything, but I wanted to get a birthday gift out of the way, because it was on my mind. I didn't realize it, but I had been in a mood all day. Maybe it was lack of sleep, or maybe it was the fact that I was finally off on a Saturday and the Hubbs had to work, whatever the case, the kids could tell I wasn't happy. Yet, after an hour, some Icees, and a walk through the school supplies, my mood was lighter. "Mommy, what happened? You were mad before and now you are excited", Caitlin said to me on our way to the car. All I could think of was, Target happened.

Some people drink. I go to Target. I made sure to tell that to the person my husband was talking to last week. I went up and totally interrupted the conversation to say, 

"Well, I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't eat sugar or dairy or wheat. I don't drink coffee. So I guess you could say that Target is my drug of choice". 

Because it's true. I don't eat or drink any of those things, and smoking is a thing of the past. So how else would I indulge?

After I said that, the neighbors daughter looked at me and said, "How the hell do you manage that?".

I pay the electric bill at Target, silly.


Tuesday, July 22, 2014

The Haze


I'm surprised to find myself in a pocket of misery. I'm not really sure how I got here, but I came to the conclusion last Friday night, after fighting with my husband and crying over things that can't really be changed. I've been going through the motions, getting from point A to point B, living in a haze I told myself I would never let back into my life. Alas, the haze has returned.

This time it has nothing to do with a crying newborn. It has noting to do with sleepless nights, missed milestones, the isolation that comes with being a stay at home mother. Somehow the haze has found me in my new life. As a new kind of mother, with no agenda and no rules to follow. The haze has found this new me, with new hopes and new dreams. The haze has settled and made it hard to see those hopes and dreams.

I've spent these precious weeks of summer in a haze. Working, and when I'm not working too tired to do much of anything. I haven't written. I haven't blogged. I haven't done anything notable with my children. Finally last week I forced myself out of the house to take the kids to the used book store. In this haze, I've spent my time in front of my TV, watching re-runs, reading books, and basically checking out. I didn't even realize I was doing it. I didn't recognize the haze. Until Friday. 

Friday I was in a horrible mood. Tired from my 4 a.m. wake up call. Tired from the week. Tired from, what I'd later realize, being miserable. The Hubbs and I fought and argued about all the same things we always argue about. Money. Work. The most frustrating part is that we cannot change a lot of these things right now. I can be tired and sick of them, but they will not go away, and for now there is no remedy. But I was also sad about the things that have gone away since work and money have become the focus. I'm in a haze, in a pocket of misery because I feel like I've given up on me. On the things that I have wanted. Like this blog. Like my book. I've been in a haze because I'm angry and uninspired. Because the voice inside my head says to give up, that even if I put in the work, I'll never get there. I've been in a haze because I feel like these pieces of me are slipping away.

And while all of those pieces slip away, I retreat into my haze and not only do I suffer, but my kids suffer. I haven't done anything with my kids. Not really. They play and I stew and then the day is almost over and I can't wait to go to bed. I've talked about arts and crafts projects and trips to the beach, and yet, we still have nothing to show for all the talk. So now, right in the middle of the haze, the guilt sets in. A guilt so overwhelming it blinds me.

So in the middle of feeling sorry for myself, I found myself overwhelmed by guilt. And it's the worse kind of guilt because it's the mommy kind of guilt. I don't want my kids to remember this as the summer mommy had to work. The summer mommy sat on the couch and watched episode after episode of her favorite show. The summer mommy sat with her pockets filled with misery and her head caught in the haze.

It took a few days, but I've found some perspective. Somehow along the way I found my footing in motherhood, and it allowed me to think about myself again. It's not a bad thing to thing about yourself, but sometimes you have to think about the little humans before yourself. They don't have elaborate hopes and dreams right now. They are seven and four. They don't care about mommy's blog or the book she wants to write. One day they will. One day they will be proud of my hopes and dreams. But this summer is not that time. They just want their mommy. They just want their mother to be present. They want to bake cookies and paint with water colors and read books. They want to go to a matinee and eat ice cream for dinner. They want to play in the sprinklers and use the Modge Podge they found in Mommy's crafting supplies. 

Sometimes we don't realize what we are really missing. I thought I was missing my writing. I thought I was missing some opportunities. But I was really missing out on this summer. This summer. The only summer I will get this year. I think I caught myself just in time. Perspective will do that. So as I immerse myself in glue and paint and ice cream sandwiches, I will also become inspired. To write. To live. To be my old self again. And the haze, it will lift, and my pockets, they will empty. Only to be refilled with hopes and dreams, and love.




Monday, July 21, 2014

The weaker sex


I've come to the conclusion that if men had vaginas, they would die.

We can debate back and forth about if men could actually carry and deliver a baby all day. That's just a piece of the puzzle. I'm talking about the every day care that goes into having a vagina. The surprises, the intrigue, the spontaneity of being a woman. Yeah, I'm pretty sure they would die.

I was talking to my neighbor last week, a male one, and don't worry my husband was there too, and we got on the subject of waxing. As you can tell I talk in real life just like I write on this blog. Anyway, we got on the subject of waxing and I was telling them they should come with me next time and get a little taken off the "top". We were having a good laugh, when my neighbor mentioned that there was no way in hell he would let anyone take a look at his "junk". Before I could even laugh I said, "You'd die if you were a woman".

Let's face it, most of us have been laying on tables with our feet in stir-ups for years. We never even questioned it. If men had to go in and have a "smear" of any kind, they would drop dead at sixteen. The mere mention of the word "smear" makes my husbands skin crawl. In our pre-teen and teen days, not only did we have to worry about hairy legs and underarms, but we also had to worry about "starting" at school. As if we'd all experience it like "Carrie", in the showers after P.E. while mean bitches threw tampons and pads at our heads. There were the social indignities of being a late bloomer, or being that girl in P.E. with a bra that rivaled our mother's. The embarrassment of the "changing of the guard" in the restroom between classes, because the crinkle of a feminine product wrapper is unmistakable. There is no other sound like it in the world. 

But we survive that shit. Because we are women, with vaginas. We are tough, and we weather the storms of embarrassment. Like the time your backpack spilled open at your locker and while you were picking up your pads, a cute guy walked by and saw you, and then you saw him avert his eyes as if seeing a pad in a rose colored wrapper would blind him for life. I'll admit, that is a true story. We have carried around sweatshirts and sweaters in the likely event that we need to tie them around our waists. We always have some type of extra feminine product in our purses, and perhaps now, if you are like me, you don't even hide that shit. The only draw back to that is sometimes you find a tampon out of it's wrapper in the bottom of your purse. And that usually happens when you need that last said tampon. 

As women we get to the point that we are beyond embarrassment. We are beyond being coy and blushing at the indignities of being a woman. Because having a period isn't the only thing that we will be cursed with. If and when we decide to have babies, we will have a doctor who will at any given time take a look down under. Have you ever had a vaginal ultrasound? It's uncomfortable to say the least, but it could also be considered a sexual assault if you think about about it. Then you have to talk about dilatation and waters and your bloody show. I shit you not, there is something called "Bloody Show". It's not an off Broadway production by Lena Dunham either, in case you are wondering.

I'll never forget the day Caitlin was born, and my nurse, a nice man with years of experience, put his gloved hand under my bed linens to check my progress. The look on the Hubbs face was priceless, while I just laid there as if this was something that happened all the time. It doesn't, trust me, but what kind of reaction is that? Oh hey Mr. Nurse Man, I just met you ten minutes ago, sure, go ahead and tell me how much I'm dilated. I'm telling you, this is because we are trained to do so. By the time we have children, we've had our vaginas looked at so many times by doctors and the like that we don't even fight it. We just roll on our sides and say "Can I get the drugs now, please?".

I'm convinced if men had to deal with a vagina on a daily basis, they would quit life. The Hubbs thinks there would be more kids in the world, but I don't believe that shit. One cramp, one contraction, one morning waking up in a literal pool of their own blood would make them quit life. Then to have to keep and care for one? Pads, tampons, waxing, "smears", and ultrasounds... There is no way. My husband still can't touch a pad, in it's original wrapping, unused, to this day. Even after watching me push out two kids. The idea, the mystery, the unknown worlds of the vagina are still frightening.

I'm sure it really does hurt to get kicked in the balls, they should be glad that's the only thing that could side line them. Let's be honest here, I've only touched on the physical aspects of being a woman and having a vagina, we haven't even talked about the emotional side. The Hubbs asked me if I could imagine if two guys had their periods and got in a fight at a bar. I laughed and we decided that they would fight, then hold each other and cry, then binge eat all the carbs, and finally become best friends. If that ain't the truth I don't know what is. 

Who really is the weaker sex? We may never know, but I know this. I can do anything. I can run a marathon if I choose. I can cook a gourmet meal. I can have my kids and bring home the bacon too. I can do anything, because I can bleed for seven days and not die. I can lie on a table and have the "smear". I can even get waxed within an inch of my life.

I have a vagina, what's your superpower?







Saturday, July 19, 2014

Short Story Saturday {seven ninteen fourteen}


I've been really hesitant to dive into another short story. Ok, that's kind of a lie. I've been writing little stories here and there for the last couple of months. I've had every intention to share them with you, and then, that voice. I hear the voice. The one that says my writing sucks, that I don't know shit about dialogue, the voice that says, save yourself from the embarrassment. You have that voice too, although, it may not tell you that you are a crappy writer, we all have the voice. Today I finally said eff the voice, and decided to start a new journey with fiction, Short Story Saturday. For now I think it will be a twice monthly thing, so I'm not too overwhelmed. And I'd like to invite any other story tellers out there to join in. If you write a little something, or have something written that you would like to share, share it. Just leave a comment with the link. There are no editors here, no agents, no content police. This is a safe place. At least I hope it is. Let me know what you think and if you look forward to more Short Story Saturdays.





Sure

Elizabeth Calderon was five when Jack Lewis kissed her square on the lips in the kindergarten lunch line.  Why would he do such a thing?  Michelle her best friend said it was because he liked her.  Alex Oliver said it was because he dared Jack to kiss a Mexican, whatever that was.  At five Lizzie was sure of two things, she wanted to be a ballerina, and she didn't like kisses from boys on the lips.

When Lizzie turned ten she no longer wanted to be a ballerina but a lawyer.  Lawyers made money and lived in nice apartments, like on LA Law.  She also noticed that on TV, lawyers didn't have to worry much about money.  A big apartment and lots of money seemed like a a dream worthy of dreaming.  If she had money she could help her mother pay the mortgage, because when her mother talked about the mortgage, her voice changed, and Lizzie didn't recognize it anymore.  At ten she was sure that being a lawyer with a fancy apartment would solve all of her mother's problems.

At fifteen, Lizzie wanted to go by Liz, desperately.  She spent her days slouched, trying to conceal her chest, ever since Sam Jensen asked if she stuffed her bra in front of the entire freshman PE class.  She didn't, but no one believed her.  How could she explain that she went to bed one night a 34A and woke up the next morning a 34C? Her mother was no help either, telling her in a few years she wouldn't be sorry.  But she was sorry.  Liz measured her days in class periods, mix tapes, and episodes of My So Called Life.  She was sure about three things, she hated PE, Sam Jensen was an asshole, and high school sucked.

The night Liz turned twenty she got drunk and had sex with Mason Young on the filthy floor of his fraternity house bedroom.  Liz had no idea what was really happening until Mason busted his way in.  It was short and painful, and she was pretty sure there had to be a better way to spend your twenties.

Three days after turning twenty five Liz met James Walker Harrington at Melissa Espinoza's engagement party.  Convinced she was destined to be a bridesmaid and never a bride, she wore her black work pants and a ponytail.  As she ordered a gin and tonic, she heard a voice behind her say, That's an old man's drink?  When she turned around, she saw the face of the voice and knew she really didn't need one more asshole in her life. Even if that asshole happened to be pretty handsome. Liz realized that the only sure thing in her life at the moment was the gin and tonic.

Liz celebrated her thirtieth birthday with a breast pump, dirty diapers, and a screaming baby.  Her birthday wishes included a nap and a shower.  With a four month old at her side she ate a pint of rocky road ice cream and watched horrible reality television. She prayed that her husband would leave work early and take the baby for the rest of the night. He didn't. Liz was struck by the idea that she enjoyed her rocky road more than Mr. Harrington.  At thirty Liz loved her baby, hated her breast pump, and was pretty sure motherhood was not her calling.

On the eve of her thirty-fifth birthday Liz typed away on her laptop, writing a story she didn't know she had.  Reflecting on how quickly she hit her scary age.  That number had seemed so far away just a few years ago.  With two kids and almost six years of motherhood behind her, she was exactly the kind of mother she always wanted to be: good, but not perfect. After eight years of marriage she was exactly the kind of wife she always hoped to be: supportive and loving.  

As Elizabeth Calderon Harrington turned thirty-five she was sure this was exactly the way it was supposed to be.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Great tips I learned at Elevate

I'm no expert in this blogging world, but somewhere along the way, I've picked up a few things. I also realize that I never shared the Top Five Blogging Tips I learned at Elevate. Yes, I know that was all the way back in May, and that kind of feels like a lifetime ago. At the same time, I've been really thinking about how I'm going to evolve with this blog over the next year, and some of these tips may just give you a kick in the pants as well. Do you have some invaluable Blogging Advice? Leave it for me in the comments, and be sure to share a link to a post you may have wrote about this same thing. I'd love to read it!

Tip #1: Affiliate Links via Little Miss Momma

The best piece of advice I took away from Ashely regarding Affiliate links was to be sure you choose affiliate links that line up with the feel and voice of your blog. This is really important to me. When I first started blogging, I felt like I had to say yes to everything. Yes I'll sign up and review this product my readers will never use, yes I'll talk about this service that has nothing to do with me... When the products that you are aligning yourself with have nothing to do with you, it can make your readers not trust you. There are tons of affiliates that you can sign up for, like Lisa Leonard has one, but if you rarely wear jewelry, will you really make the most out of this relationship? Affiliates are supposed to be your partners, so working with the right one should be a win/win for both of you.

Tip #2: Collaborate and Contribute to your community via Diary of an Addict

Alissa is a master at collaborating with the blogging community. In addition to writing a fabulous blog, she knows her stuff when it comes to networking and building a community. Alissa says guest posting and inviting collaborators to your blog will not only help you build lasting relationships, but will also be great exposure for you and your blog. I totally get this. I try to offer up guest posts as often as I can. Especially on blogs I've been newly introduced to. Meet a new follower on Instagram? Answer their call for contributors or guest posters. Really like some one's handmade shop? Reach out to them and see if they would like to collaborate on a giveaway or guest post. Most of the blogging relationships that I have today are a product of guest posting and giveaway collaborations. The most important part of all of this is to make sure your collaborators are in line with your voice and vision. Just like when working with affiliate programs. I've been approached before by someone wanting to guest post, like a company or a program, but when I really read what they were about, I realized, they just weren't a good fit for this blog. Alisa's best advice: have a process in place for contributors (a schedule of posts, back up plans, types of posts), and don't make contributors a "forever" thing. Your readers want to hear you at the end of the day. Make sure your blog is still you, with just a little extra (contributors) for fun.

Tip #3 Pick a Social Media via The 36th Avenue

I can't rave enough about Desiree. I love her. Not only is she an amazing woman, but this gal knows her blogging stuff. She talked about things that made my head spin and my heart burst. You can read that post here. In regards to bloggy business, the thing that stuck with me the most was her take on social media. Desiree said that we need to pick a Social Media and be amazing at it. For example if you have thousands of likes on Facebook, work and post on that page. Engage your readers there. If Twitter is your place, tweet your heart out. If you Pin like a bad ass, Pin it. Whatever it is that you do best, or where ever you spend the most time, do that one. For me, I'm an Instagram girl. I feel like I reach more of my readers and engage them more on Instagram. Sure I still send the occasional tweet, and I still post my links on my Facebook page, but for me Instagram is where I spend the majority of my time. So pick one social media and be present there, instead of trying to be present at all of them all the time. This is the kind of genius advice Desiree gives that leaves you thinking, "Why didn't I think of that?".

Tip #4 Be ready to capture the moments on the move via Chrissy and Stephanie

Chrissy and Stephanie were the house photographers at Elevate. They did an excellent job, to see their work click here. More importantly they taught me some really valuable things about taking pictures. If you have read this blog for awhile then you know, I take horrible pictures. I don't even have a fancy camera, I only use my iPhone. They taught me that to stage pictures, lighting is key. Even if it's just a selfie, the right light can change everything. They also taught me to use household items to stage pictures and make them look more professional. The biggest take away for me was to be ready for those moment with kids. Kids are so unpredictable, especially when you are trying to get a good shot. I have to agree with Chrissy and Stephanie when they suggest to let your little ones move and play, and just be ready to click. Some of my best photos have been the product of just clicking when the kids aren't even posed of looking at the camera.

Tip #5 On Finding Balance via Lisa Leonard

I wrote an entire post about Lisa Leonard and her Five "Be"s to building your community. Not only was Lisa so incredibly humble and full of grace, but she was also very candid about her life. She runs a business with her Husband. They work together, live together, parent together. She spoke about what that looks like and that sometimes, they have to leave work at work. Of course this is incredibly hard for her and her husband, they take pride in their product and their business. She also has a blog that she writes. So how does she find balance? In short, she admitted that she doesn't, and that she may never find it. Regardless of that, she says that she is always in pursuit of balance. I take comfort in that. I may not run a successful business, and my blog may not be the type that gets a million hits a day, but balance is something I'm always in search of. Lisa admitted that sometimes she has to leave her phone at home, she has to step away from the computer, she has to fully invest her self being physically and mentally present. It's a great takeaway from a great woman who is at her core, a really fabulous human.

As you've read, here and in prior posts, I've learned so much from Elevate. I'm hoping to take some of this advice and use it over the next year. The best thing about blogging is that we are always evolving and growing, as we are in life. Our blogs follow our journey into the next phases. Sometimes it's exciting and sometimes it's scary, but with an entire community behind you, like the women I've met through Elevate, it doesn't have to be.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

I can be embarrassed (Or I can embrace it) Poise Microliners (Review)

Poise and Linqia have joined forces to get the word out about Poise Microliners with SAM. This is a paid post, sponsored by Linqia. But the thoughts and opinions are all mine. Because who else writes about their vagina with reckless abandon?

A funny thing happened on my way to thirty six years old. I actually got old. I know what you are thinking, "I see your selfies every day, you don't look thirty six". Well thank you and God bless you, but damn if I'm not every bit of thirty six these days. I've got sun spots on my hands and legs. Crows feet and laugh lines on my face. I've got grey hair to put your granny to shame and this time last year I had to cut bangs to cover up a bald spot. Getting old ain't pretty or for sissies. But I could cover the grey hair with box dyes and quarterly trips to the salon. The bangs to cover up the bald spot were a wise choice since they made me appear more youthful. And let's face it, we can hide our age these days if we tweak our Instagram filters just right. All of these things I could handle, until I discovered, poetically three weeks before I turned thirty six, that I was occasionally peeing my pants.

Yes, you read that correctly I started peeing my pants.

And not in the post baby, I jumped up to get the phone or I just sneezed and pee came out kind of way. I was peeing my pants in the way that as I was standing at work one day talking to a co-worker and suddenly I peed a little. My first reaction was "Are you effing serious right now?", and my second reaction was to call AARP. A quick Google search lead me to the term "Light Bladder Leakage" or "LBL" as the folks at Poise call it. Yes, I said Poise, the ones that make bladder control products that you pass on your way to the Tampax and Kotex, because your vagina is still young and viable.

Sorry, I got bitter there for a minute. Let me go back.

I was crushed to realize that I was becoming that lady. The one to occasionally pees trying to be as discreet at possible. Which is really hard when your basket at Target is filled with Tampax, Kotex, chicken nuggets, and suddenly Poise pads. It's enough to crush your "Forty is the new Thirty" idea you have set for yourself. But I realized, I can either be embarrassed by the fact that I have something called "LBL" or I can embrace it. You know me, just another obstacle in becoming a fabulous old lady with real old lady problems.

Research tells me that one in three women suffer from light bladder leakage, and like me it embarrasses them a little. Most likely because we are young and our LBL is a product of childbirth. Most of us with LBL use regular feminine products to deal with LBL because we are not ready to jump into the world of products designed for bladder control issues. Trust me, I was super discouraged to think I would have to dive into that world alone, but then I got this email about Poise Microliners and decided that a "microliner" was something my aging ego and bladder could handle.

The new Poise Microliners, with Super Absorbent Material (SAM) look just like your regular run of the mill panty liner. They are paper thin, and make you think they are way to small to handle an issue as big as LBL, but they are mighty. They are designed to neutralize odor and stay three times drier than a regular panty liner. They are also super discreet in pretty lavender pouches. Your husband will still look at them like they will burn his hands, should he have to touch them as they sit in your purse next to you car keys. Men, seriously, would die if they had vaginas. Seriously. 

And look, the box isn't even scary. It looks friendly and hopeful. Like it's sympathetic to your old lady issue, while maintaining that you're still young and hip and people will still like you. Ok, I just made that up to feel better about the whole situation.



Being thirty six isn't that awful. It's just that age surprises you. It seems like I was just thirteen and completely mortified to have to buy pads at the drugstore, and Lord help me if a cute boy was at the register. Now, I'm just that old lady who blogs about her vagina and it's old lady problems. My husband is so proud of me, and completely embarrassed for me. That's what happens when you get old. Nothing embarrasses you anymore. Not even your LBL. 



For a Free Sample CLICK HERE.

Monday, July 14, 2014

Because Monday...


This post is the child of laziness and whatever the opposite of motivation turns out to be. I've been enjoying my days off to their fullest extent, sometimes staying in my pajamas way past an acceptable afternoon hour. I've been watching everything in my DVR. Twice (like the Mindy Project season finale. Twice). I've been letting my kids do whatever their hearts desire, including eating Cheetos for breakfast and starburst for dinner. They also play with every toy they own while I have completely lost myself in two books in less than a week. Book two is over five hundred pages, so you can see pulling myself away to actually write something hasn't been easy. But the crazy part... When you read a really good book, it inspires you to do some really good writing. So it's on the horizon friends, I can feel it. But since laziness and hindrance (I did a quick Google search for the opposite of motivation) had a baby that is this post, you get a nice photo dump of what I've been up to when I'm not lost in a book or watching True Blood.

Because...


My gorgeously photogenic daughter who will smile on demand and ask for nothing in return. Sure we are in the drive thru at McDonald's so this smile might be about the food. I'll take it anyway.


The flip side to that is that Mac could give two effs about your selfies and or Happy Meals.


Olive pants that I didn't realize I loved until January. Sorry that you spent four years in my closet just hanging out. I'll make it up to you.


Books that I can't afford at the moment, but thanks to Apple and iPhone I can take pictures of all the books and then remember to buy them when I need something to read. Tell me I'm not the only person who does this.


Target shenanigans. Icees and cookies will do that to the tiny humans. All I asked was that they smile pretty for the camera. Jokes on me.


 Again. It's like we aren't even trying anymore...


But wait, this one isn't really staged. They are actually this excited about grocery shopping after seven pm at Walmart. Because Fresno is hot and grocery shopping is awful, and when you have to grocery shop when it's 109 outside, disaster happens. So we wait and go right before the sun goes down. Plus everyone knows McDonald's ice cream cones taste best after eight pm.


 Because this man knows the way into my heart. He makes everything an adventure. 


Because, "Mommy, I have a beard". Obviously.


Yes. The Hubbs asks for pictures after every wax appointment. And that picture of Grumpy Cat was my attempt at a "before" shot. I hope you all get that joke...


I have to be at work every Friday at six am. So this sums up every Friday morning.


We got a night out with friends to see 22 Jump Street. I'm just going to say that Ice Cube is the best damn thing about that movie. And that's saying a lot since Channing Tatum is in it too.


Because the Hubbs said that no "moos" aka maxi skirts were allowed on date night. He wanted me to wear something that showed off my legs, a common request of his. So I picked out jean shorts and this fabulous tank top from Target. Be careful what you wish for... Your wife may show up in a tank top covered in cats.


It's the most wonderful time of the year... I'm the biggest nerd, but this section of Target smells like flowers and unicorns and Butterbeer. 

My Dad had a birthday and I took a picture of my parents after dinner. Let's discuss these amazing people. One, my Dad is wearing a shirt that says, "Feeling Dirty". Two, the shirt was a gift from my Husband when he was my boyfriend after his Fraternity Mud Volleyball game. Three, my mom has lost thirty pounds since her surgery in May and is feeling better every day. Four, I posted this on Facebook and my Dad got so many birthday wishes from my friends and his. He doesn't even have a Facebook... He's way too cool for that. 


I took a bitch quiz on Facebook. Let's just say I passed.