Would I trade my husband and children for it? Maybe not...

I love television--I really do. More than a normal person should love television. In fact, for the last few years, I have lived for television. I believe that TiVo...DVR...whatever is/was the most important invention of this century. I swear--I really do. At least for my family it is. Well, maybe not even my entire family (so relax Mr. McJudgerson--my children aren't TV-heads...but they definitely could be)--we try not to teach our children our horrible habits, but eventually...there will be five of us!

This obsession with television began in the late nineties, early (thousands?!)--right after I met my husband. As a side note, most  of my bad habits came to me after meeting my husband. Coincidental? I think not. Of course, I (basically) stopped being a booze-hound (kind of) and I stopped bringing strange men home (for the most part), but I also stopped moving (unless it was in the direction of the refrigerator) and spent most of my free time watching shows and eating popcorn. THAT is what we do. It started in 1999 and I can honestly say that doing that is the one thing that has remained consistent in our lives. We used to have movie marathon weekends where we would get a barrel of popcorn (you know it's true--that thing is bigger than Rhode Island) from the movie theater (with layered butter and salt...I just threw up in my mouth a little bit, sorry...) and would rearrange our furniture so that we were DIRECTLY in front of the television and would stay there all weekend. Of course, we would leave for a few hours to sleep, but for the most part we were held hostage by our television and we loved it. In between all of our movies, we would watch our taped shows (THANK YOU inventor of DVR type things!) to clear up more space for new ones.

One show we tried not to ever miss was Alias. That. Show. Is (high-pitched squeal here) AWESOME. Sydney Bristow was my hero--and not just  because she could rock a purple wig (though she really could!). About a year or two ago (maybe even three now...it all gets lost once it hits my brain...) a fb friend posted something about the show Alias. It was when I was just getting the hang of facebook (as if I ever did get the hang of it!) and the whole posting on walls thing was foreign to me. I thought I was posting on his wall when I commented something like, "L-O-V-E Sydney Bristow--she is (high-pitched squeal here) AWESOME and my hero!" Not so embarrassing on his wall since he was actually discussing her. Unfortunately, I posted it as my status. So people who didn't know me or worse, did would read: "Nika Corwin: L-O-V-E Sydney Bristow--she is (high-pitched squeal here) AWESOME and my hero!" Kind of a freak, right?!  At least now you know that I am serious about Alias (if not certifiable)-- if you didn't watch it, I am certain you can get in on Netflix. DO IT. You won't be sorry. Unless you are and in that case please don't tell me!

Another show that was on around that time was called, Eyes. We loved that show. It had the guy from Wings (yes, I mentioned Wings because who DIDN'T love THAT show?!)--the serious brother-guy who is now on Private Practice (ask me how many grams are in a kilometer and I'll tell you, "Orange," but this I know) was in this show and he was (insert high pitched squeal here...all together now...) AWESOME! (well done!) The problem? Eyes  was taken off the air after too few episodes. I don't really want to remember exactly what was happening and what went unresolved in the show or it will upset me again, just know that we were (are) so annoyed that we didn't get the time we wanted needed deserved with Eyes. My husband still mentions it like an old friend who doesn't keep in touch and refuses to get on facebook. So sad. Moment of silence please.


Thank you.

Another show that tore our hearts out (I seriously need professional help. The first step is admitting there is a problem and I l-oooo-v-e hanging out on the first step!) was Studio...54? 64? 60?--the one with Chandler from Friends, not the one with naked people in it. It was about the making of an SNL type of show and it was (I think you know where I am going here...high pitched squeal) AWESOME!  We were so sad to see it go and tried to seek counseling over it. Instead, we found more shows to watch and tried not to get too attached--just in case they left us, too.

Some of our favorites through the years (and by "favorites," I mean those that encompassed our lives in such a way that we actually felt like they were family were, Friends (duh), 24 (Seriously...Jack Bower and Sydney Bristow need to team up...) which I deemed to be the best show of all time that first season. And the next. And most of the rest...it ALWAYS had me quite literally (and not in the way that it does not actually mean literally) on the edge of my seat clenching anything that could remotely...clench in my body until that last second ticked away and I had to wait for scenes from the next week's episode.  The same proved true for Lost, though we lost (punny!)some of our recordings when we moved (I'm still not over it--), so I need to rent the final season.

We watch all of the CSIs--most of the time to make fun of the placement of sunglasses on the nose before a corny pun is uttered over a bloody body. Criminal Minds is a good one--though too many episodes have taken place in places where I've lived.  C-R-E-E-P-Y. There are so many more...it really is disturbing how many shows we do and have watched, but it's what we like.

When I was teaching I would often times refer to my shows (House for example...so sad it's gone!) to help validate  whatever we were discussing that day. I had students tell me that English teachers aren't supposed to like television. They claimed that they never had a teacher who promoted television before they met me. I need to clarify...I'm not against reading--in fact, I love to read. I have stayed up way too many nights because I couldn't put a book down until it was finished, but while teaching I didn't have that luxury. I needed to go to bed at a reasonable time and I needed someone to do the thinking for me at the end of the day. Sometimes you just want to be entertained and you don't want to do anything for it.  That's why I love television.

Because of this love (and because of the fact that I lost my funny ), I am going to [try to] devote one day a week to television. I may talk about shows that made me laugh out loud ('cause that is really a thing) (Friends shouldn't even have to be mentioned...it should be understood.) like New Adventures of Old Christine or Everybody Loves Raymond, or those that make me laugh now, like The Middle or Modern Family. I may write about shows that everyone should watch, regardless of sex (no--not whether you are having it...) like Bunheads or Ally McBeal (THAT was a blast from the past, right?!) or shows that very few people discovered like...well, I guess that could be Bunheads again, though there are way too many shows for me to be listing doubles.

I know what you are thinking--this will be the only time I "discuss" television because history states that I do not EVER stick with a plan on here. Well, you got me. That is why I didn't pick a day. Perhaps if I give myself an entire week to make it happen it will...actually happen.

Until then, I have some research to do. I'll start by watching Friends...and maybe grabbing some popcorn...

Goodbye Frumpy...maybe next year...

http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/it-turns-out-i-used-to-be-hot.html

Nothing says "Hot Mama" like a few gnarly chin hairs

I really need to look into laser hair removal...perhaps someone would provide it for me if I write a nice blog about it...
http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/do-not-look-at-my-chin-every-time-i-see.html

Plan shmann...

Here I am. It's Thursday and according to my new "plan," it is one of the only days for me to actually write a full blog. Only, I kept Addison out of school today because all of her friends from last year's play group came over for a play date (or--if the authorities ask (do the authorities CARE about preschool?)--she was feeling a bit under the weather...which is HILARIOUS because she has been happily squeaking (yes, she is a squeaker--she squeals with excitement over--well--just about ANYTHING when she is in a happy mood) around me for the last two hours since her friends had to go home. Seriously, she is humming and singing and squeaking asking things like, "Don choo stink dat it is a WONDEWERFUL day, Momma?" and "Momma--Momma--MOMMMMMMAAAA--oh--teehee--guess what?! Dis is a gwryeat day!" So yeah--she's REALLY under the weather! I feel like that could mean anything. I  mean, she has a tummy ache at least five times a day (it only lasts a minute, but it's there), so technically she COULD be under the weather at any given time, but...I think I'm just gonna go with the truth. Especially because she keeps talking to me and asking me questions so I have NO IDEA what I am writing right now. I couldn't possibly keep up a lie, too!

Here is a snapshot of what is happening in MY world right now:

"Addison--why are you moving all of the chairs and bins around me? I won't be able to get up..."
"Yowewer at my wryestaurant. Don't fowerget to owerdewer food (in her highest, squeakiest, LOUDEST voice)!  "What would you yike? We have cake and cookies and muffins and cawrots and apples and..." (Remember--she is YELLING all of this and has done it for a good hour now. BUT--she is SO happy and in such a great, fun mood, I can't help but laugh.)

"OKAAAAAY (she's a little like Giselle from Enchanted--performing for an audience who is hard of hearing...)--let's make a SIGN! How do I spell  wryestaurant ? Mom? Mommy? MOMMA? How do I spell wryestaurant? "

"R."
"Awrewer? AWREWER? Okay. Awrewer. Okay Mommy. Okay Momma. Okay--what's ne-ext?  Momma? Mommy? Mom? What is aftewewre the awrewer? Momma? Mommy? Momma?"

"E."

"OOOOOHHHH...E. E, E, EEEEEEEEE! Fiwiwrst comes awrewer, then comes EEEE-EEEEE. Now is it S? Momma? Mommy? Mommy? Is there an S next? Momma? Momma? "

This continued for...well, she is still doing it, though she finished her sign. "Addie's Restaurant" is now full service and she is ECSTATIC about running it. You have NEVER seen a happier waitress in your life! And her sing-song voice would make me crazy if she wasn't so darn cute and if I didn't know that the exact opposite is what I usually get from my maniacs. I'll take singsong over brooding ANY day! Her voice is at a pitch that would make dogs wince, but again--too cute.

With all of this going on, I have no idea what I am writing, nor do I have an idea of what I WANT to write. I think we were discussing my "plan." My "plan" (I put "plan" in quotes because, let's be honest--the only "plan" I am ever capable of keeping is my "plan" to make more "plans." Plus, what is the saying? We make "plans" (I can't help it. I feel that it belongs in quotes...I'm like Joey from friends when he used his "air quotes"

Friends [Air Quotes FULL] -Hit Me- - YouTube

 SO. VERY. FUNNY.) (If you don't want to watch the whole thing, his first..."encounter" with the quotation marks comes within the first few minutes, but if you have time to watch it in its entirety, I HIGHLY recommend it. It may not be as funny as THIS mind-numbing rambling, but little is my friends. Little. Is.)

Okay...so I was talking about the saying that we make plans and God laughs. I like to think that I make God laugh more than most people because of all the "plans" I make. The average person probably makes fewer plans than I do, and probably follows more than I do. Which would make people who KNOW me (and I think God KNOWS me!) laugh even harder than those who don't. So at least I know I am doing SOMETHING to make God smile. Just sayin'...

So my "plan." Thursday is one of the only days to freely write my blog, but I am clearly having a problem with it! I'm not sure if it is because my children are LITERALLY yelling and screaming in circles around me and I'm feeling guilty or if it is because I'm feeling the pressure of only having two days of free writing, so it should be HILARIOUS--I don't know. It could also be the fact that the only consistency I have in ANY of my plans is the fact that I actually MAKE them, so this one is destined to fail. That's the spirit, right?! Wow--I think I need to suck in some of my daughter's enthusiasm! Insert squeaky, high-pitched, happy, yelling here:"THANK YOU! I CAN'T WAIT to write again tomorrow! You think I should write again tomorrow? I would LOVE to write again tomorrow. THANK YOU!"

I am looking at three blocks of cheese, a plate of carrots, a couple of cheese sticks, an apple, some bran muffins and a glass FULL of some smoothie type of drink that came from the depths of my refrigerator. Perhaps I need to have a conference with my "server" now... 

.

Words with Friends...AND family...

I have a problem. Well, technically I have A LOT of problems, but this is a NEW problem. I think we can all agree that I am on the computer WAAAAAAAY too much (as evidenced by my frequent references to facebook--acting as though it is another limb-- and by the incessant blog posts and comments I make more regularly than I do anything else), though I decided to take a break for the holidays. I came to this decision after I heard my son say, "Well, Mommy probably won't play with us 'cause she'll be on the computer the whole time!" Ouch.

Let me tell you a little something about my son. My son is a fighter. He is able to manipulate ANY situation to his liking--something he has been able to do since...I don't know...BIRTH. He hears EVERYTHING and misses NOTHING. That said, I am QUITE certain he heard (hears!) my husband and I...discussing...my computer usage on several occasions. My husband (legitimately, I believe) thinks that I should finish my "work--HA!" on the computer before everyone gets home. I try my best to do that, but since our computer is all we brought with us from the dinosaur era, IT has different plans usually. We might as well have--dare I say it?! DIAL UP with as fast as our computer "moves!" I swear, you look up three things and seven hours are GONE.  It is madness. My husband "heard" and "saw" my complaint (This is SOOOO funny if you watch Parenthood--if you don't, it is probably REALLY dumb. Of course, you SHOULD watch Parenthood--LOVE it! Anyway, Coach (who plays the dad) learned in therapy that when his wife speaks he should say, "I hear you and I see you." H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S!  What's funnier is the fact that this particular episode aired over a year ago and we continue to say this phrase to each other. It even makes me giggle right now. Another funny thing is the fact that we heard at least three other couples we know say those same words to each other to mimic the show. F-U-N-N-Y stuff!) ANYWAY...back to my son. He really only needed to hear us talk about it ONCE and sense the guilt and fear of being a bad mom in me ONE TIME to use this against me. I KNOW it is happening, yet I cannot stop it, nor will I stand up to the behavior. Mainly because I myself feel like I am on WAAAAYYY too much. So, my son may be a punk, but he IS on to something.

THIS is why I decided to stay off of the computer (for the most part) for the holidays. This proved to be QUITE a shame, as there are SOOOOO many great stories to tell during the holidays and my ADD does not allow for me to remember and record them all. I decided that I would "catch up" on all of my computer needs on the Tuesday after I dropped the last child off at school. Not a big deal, right? What was it--a WEEK? SURELY I could go A WEEK without using the computer. Two problems with this plan--friends of ours gave me their old iPod (TOUCH!) and my husband gave me a KINDLE (I CANNOT EXPLAIN HOW HAPPY THESE TWO THINGS MAKE ME! I HOPE THE CAPITAL LETTERS GIVE YOU SOME IDEA!) So on New Year's Day (or maybe the Monday after...) I broke down and got on the computer so that I could use my Kindle and iPod. Of course, any time I do ANYTHING on the computer, I travel via facebook--doesn't EVERYONE?! After a week there was at least an hour of activity needed on my account, but I ignored most some NONE of it and remained on the computer for two hours.

Before I deserted my dear friend facebook  exited out of the program, I noticed that one of my facebook friends (who also works at my daughter's school) "challenged" me to a game. This is usually not a problem with me--I ignore all of the games, pokes, mafia hits-LONGING-whatever extra distractions that are set up on facebook (this is due to one very long day in Montana when I spent THE ENTIRE DAY "kissing" "hugging" "poking" and "planting" for my facebook friends, while completely neglecting my family...and actual human friends. That proved problematic to me and after that day I ignored all requests (at the risk of fb friends feeling sad and neglected--they seemed to get over it!). For some reason, I decided to look at and accept her challenge, which brings me to my problem.

The game of which I speak is "Words With Friends" and some of you know it VERY well. Some of you may even have challenged me (though I have about ten games going right now--is that even POSSIBLE?! What is WRONG with me?!) to a game or two and you may or may not know that I AM CRAZY. I am seriously addicted (NOT in the good way--IS there a good way to be addicted?!) to this game and I want to WIN. I am normally not a competitive person AT ALL (before I was married I wanted everyone ELSE to win so that everyone would just be happy...it's painful, right?!), but since marrying the most passive aggressively competitive person EVER (he makes Monika look tame--sorry--I allude to Friends and assume that everyone understands the reference. You do, right? Because they are YOUR friends, too--aren't they? We will seriously sit around and talk about the time that Ross did this and Joey did that or that one of us is "...so Chandler..." Yeah--we have issues. I even remember going to a wedding with Dave before we were married and we sat in the pew LAUGHING about Friends episodes. Yeah--we're going to hell...), so I've had to up my game (so to speak!) over the years.

There are a few games that are banned, though I would be willing to bring them back into action. First, Scattegories. I was a ROCK STAR (That's right--do you QUESTION it?!) when we played that game. I ALWAYS won. I started out as not wanting needing LONGING to win, but playing with Mister "I really don't care who wins (but I will tear your eyes out if I don't!"), I gradually got worse. The last day of Scattegories (or LDOS if you will) came when I wrote "Throw the trash"  to win the game. For those of you who don't know, Scattegories has a ridiculously shaped die that has all of the letters on it. The timer is set and you need to come up with a list of items (actions, people...) that begin with said letter. If you are clever enough (and don't care about annoying your partner) to come up with words that use the letter two or three (once I did four...) times, you will likely win. My brat baby  husband insists TO THIS DAY, that NO ONE says "Throw the trash..." and the game was TEN years ago--that's right--TEN. Maybe even eleven. It doesn't matter, since we have not played since.

Another game we stopped playing was Pictionary. you see, I have this problem of reading into EVERYTHING and Pictionary wasn't even safe. From the time we were just friends, Monika Dave and I played--AND WON--Pictionary. We were annoyingly in tune with each other and could guess what was going to be drawn sometimes before the pen hit the paper. As you can imagine, not-so-much fun at parties. We were always accused of cheating, which bothered me back when I would NEVER have cheated. People even accused us of READING through ALL of the Pictionary cards--like we had nothing better to do--wait a minute--BRILLIANT!  I still stand firm on the fact that we didn't cheat then, but I wouldn't trust us now...

The last time we played Pictionary, we couldn't guess ANYTHING the other one drew. I swore I would do a thesis on the way people play Pictionary versus the demise of their relationships.  Not only for obvious reasons--I know everyone thought I was being a poor sport because we lost--but because of the fact that partners need to be on the same wavelength and in tune with each other in a game like that. When we had an entire night of losses, I was sure the big "D" (you know...a seven letter word that signifies the end of a marriage...?) would be next. That was about NINE years ago and before the three children, so I may need to fine tune that research.  I just know that every time he would laugh about getting something wrong, I was devastated. Goodbye Pictionary.

We moved on to Scrabble, Risk and Boggle. We played Scrabble so regularly that I actually thought we would bring it to the hospital FOR SOMETHING TO DO (HA!) when I delivered my first baby. BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I just love prebaby me. She was so dumb. ANYWAY...we did crosswords together every night (though the closer I got to delivery, the fewer we did--don't worry--I saved ALL of them so that we could work on them during the BORING times in the hospital--I almost couldn't type that I was laughing so hard!) and fit in a few Scrabble games a week. We stopped Scrabble because my damn husband used ALL of his letters EVERY game. Seriously--EVERY game. I didn't even know that was a THING. Needless to say, THAT was too much pressure for my pregnant brain (or placenta-brain as my sister affectionately calls it). We tried Risk during Hurricane-whatever-her-name-was and when he took over the ENTIRE PLANET and I rolled yet another losing roll, it almost ended up embedded into his skull (after I threw the dice at him--so much for NOT being competitive...). No more Risk. As for Boggle, I truly believed that I would excel at that game--I am after all an ENGLISH teacher.  Nope. Not against Mr. McCompetitiveson.  We recently reintroduced Boggle to the family and I feel QUITE comfortable playing with my seven and six-year-old. I even play with the five-year-old at times, though she tends to win. I think she cheats.

All of this (yes, I know it is extensive, but did you expect any less?!) brings me to the CHALLENGE. Perhaps it was because it was called a "Challenge." Perhaps it was because I love this woman--she's great. It may EVEN be because I was weakened by the week away from my love computer. Whatever the reason, I clicked, "ABSOLUTELY I will accept the challenge and I WILL allow you to invade WHATEVER you need to invade to get me there!"  That was my first hit off of the crack pipe called Words With Friends and I haven't looked back. I'm getting the shakes now, so I need to find a four letter word with "qi" in it. And eleven OTHER words...

I love how every blog I try to make a comment on tries to "prove" that I am human. Evidently, if I am able to type words like "sIttonniT" and "Do  OmeD," I am a living and breathing being. Who knew? I just cannot help but be insulted by some of the things it asks me to type. I swear, one time I typed THREE different times and the words were; "Lo  o    S   E R," (though it was spread out over the page and had random lines in it) "so R    r E     E    E" and  "gOT    2   gv U    p." Seriously?!

I want to see the little man who is behind these "words" to find out HIS story. In this particular case (there are SO many--I usually look around the room when it happens to see if I am being video taped. Because if I WERE being videotaped, I would suddenly be able to SEE the perpetrator by simply looking around the room...), the computer seemed to become irate when I was too incompetent to type the correct words and/or symbols.  It's even WORSE to hear the audio version of whatever it is the strange little man wants you to type. It is seriously like something out of a horror movie. C-R-E-E-P-Y!

Anyway, on this particular day, instead of letting me comment after the third mishap, it asked me to type in numbers. Specifically, it asked me to ADD numbers. Now, we all know that I am NOT the brightest bulb, but I have not lost the ability to do simple addition--ESPECIALLY when I have a calculator. SO I DEFINITELY got the answers right. Which is why it was strange that I got the message, "Sorry, but we cannot confirm that you are human" THREE TIMES. Maybe the little man thought that there was no way ANY human would go to THAT much trouble to type in, 'Great blog--thanks for following me!" but he CLEARLY has not met THIS new blogger. IT'S ON, strange little man behind the computer. WE'LL SEE who is or is not human once and for all. (I'm not sure what my plan is here, but I wanted to scare him the way he has been scaring me. I'm afraid it was more like the time Ross tried to act tough on Friends--HILARIOUS to think that  he THOUGHT he could be tough, and only scary because he truly believed he WAS tough...either way, it IS on...)

I WANT a dog...NOW.

I want a dog. I mean I REALLY want a dog. I used to NOT want a dog. At all. I remember when I first lost my desire to have canine company. I was sitting in my sun room in Virginia anticipating (or dreading...depending on what version of the story I'm telling and what mood I'm in that day!") the arrival of my second child (Ryan. The girl. Just thought I should clarify.). Until this point in my life, I desperately wanted a dog. A Golden retriever named Molson or Murphy or a red one named Killian or something equally as cool and "suburban" as those. I was looking in the pet section of the paper (yes, I know there is a better name for it, but I don't feel like thinking about that right now) thinking that a mutt would be fine...it just needed to be retriever-esque or lab-ish. Brayden (18 months at the time) was sleeping and I SHOULD have been [sleeping].

 I nodded off for a second and awoke with a sudden fear and panic. "I DON'T WANT A DOG!" I yelled to no one. "WHAT WAS I THINKING?!" I called my husband at work."I DON'T WANT A DOG!" I yelled in his ear. "Ummm...oookaaaayyyy...?" He responded. "I CAN'T TAKE CARE OF A DOOOOG!" I continued. "Ummm...oookaaayyyy..." he said again. "I CAN'T EVEN TAKE CARE OF MY CHILD OR MYSELF OR THE NEW BABY..." My panic was getting the better of me. "Okay...wait a second. First of all--we don't have a dog. We were never going to GET a dog. You CAN take care of your babies--you are doing it right now and you don't HAVE to be able to take care of a dog because we aren't getting one. EVER." After the first pregnancy, he knew how to address my hysteria, so I calmed down a bit. The problem is with that EVER comment. The problem IS, now I WANT a dog. And our circumstances are worse (though the hysteria has subsided).

Brayden is severely allergic to dogs. And cats. And eggs. And some nuts. AND [MOST of the time) any orders from ME. My only concern for the intents and purposes of this post is really with dogs. He gets slight asthma and serious excema when he makes contact. with certain dogs. Some dogs are worse than others for some reason that I could probably learn about if I would just look it up, but I am far too lazy to do that. I think Ryan may be slightly allergic as well because when we are around certain dogs she gets hives on her face that are similar to what happens with Brayden and his excema. Addison...well, Addison is a completely different story and I blame her for my desire to have a dog.
When they were younger, both Ryan and Brayden had an appropriate fear of dogs. I say appropriate, because they didn't freak out when a dog came near them; they were hesitant to approach and were taught to put their hands out for dogs to smell and to ask permission before touching. I KNOW--they actually LISTENED to something I said! I need to write this DOWN! Oh yeah...I AM. Anyway...the "fear" was more hesitation when meeting a dog for the first time or even the second or third. Addison, however, never had appropriate fear or any fear of dogs for that matter. When she was still crawling, an extremely large dog jumped on her and we all stopped breathing for a moment while she decided on a response. A collective sigh passed through the room when she began giggling and playing with the dog instead of shrieking and crying like we assumed would happen. Since that time, I have seen her natural love of dogs grow. Wherever we go, Addison is first drawn to the dogs. In fact, our very dear friends from Montana (who completely spoil Addison) have dogs and Addison talks about the dogs more than she talks about the actual PEOPLE. Their dog, Maya is a weiner dog (and quite possibly the best dog I know--sorry everyone else!) and is quite literally Addison's best friend. For ten months, Addison would talk about how much she missed Maya. I would mention the names of people and she would say, "Ohhhh, yes--I do miss dem too--but I reawlly miss MAYA!"
Every time we talk about their family visiting, Addison jumps up and down, claps and says, "YAY! I git to see MAYA!" "What about Miss Natalie (another dog person and Addison's favorite person), Addison?" "Ummmm--YES. AND I GIT TO SEE MAYA!" It's the same with any person we mention. Addie would rather spend her time with dogs.
SO (am I boring you, 'cause I think I'm boring ME!), Addison was the first reason why I decided I wanted a dog. I hope I didn't lose you...it's going to get interesting...NOW.

At the end of summer I met a high school friend at a mall near us. We were early, so we decided to bring the kids into the pet store (which is usually safe because I have NO DESIRE to take care of or clean up after ANYTHING else!) to see the animals. The nine-year-old at the register (yes, I believe they allow CHILDREN to work in these stores. The boy did not even hit puberty yet--he COULDN'T have--and I refuse to believe that it isn't that HE is young...it's that I am OLD...) was holding a rust-colored Pomeranian (I'm not sure if that is how it is spelled and yes, I know that I could have an answer in seconds, but this story is already taking SO LONG to tell...) and suddenly I was holding it. This pup burrowed his nose into my neck, gave me a not-too-wet kiss and snuggled back down again. It was like I was carrying the BEST baby EVER. I LOVED that dog. It was months ago and I still feel the love for a dog I spent minutes (Okay, to be honest, I wouldn't let him go for at least a half hour!) with in the pet store. It was so hard to release him (and I say "release" because I'm pretty sure I had the death grip on him)--until I saw the sign that said he was 1500 DOLLARS--he'd better poop gold for that price! Who am I kidding? I don't want him to poop ANYTHING for that price! Not only should he not poop, he should clean, do laundry... Of course if my husband didn't A. Hate to spend money and B. think he did not want a dog, I may have been convinced to spend that on this amazing dog. You only need one kidney, right?) I know I promised you interesting, but it's a story about wanting a dog. Did you REALLY think it was going to get better? Maybe NOW...

When we got home, I decided that we need to get a dog. Addison needs a dog, and so do I. Dogs love you and cuddle with you when you need them. Dogs don't touch you when you don't want to be touched. Dogs don't whine, "Momomomomomomomomomomomomomomomomomom" when you don't listen to them the first time and they don't poke you when they want something. Dogs don't follow you around and yell at you and others when you try to have a telephone conversation and they DON'T push the keys on the computer when you try to type. Most of all, you can correct a dog's behavior without it acting like you've beaten him with a stick and are the worst person on the planet. I NEED a dog. I researched different types of hypoallergenic dogs and wanted to get one immediately. It turns out, it's pretty hard to figure out this "hypoallergenic" thing. My husband will never go for paying for a dog (aside from the $75 shot fee at the SPCA) and I don't know how easy it will be to find a hypoallergenic mutt who is mild-mannered, won't poop or pee in the house and won't bite or eat anything he isn't supposed to [eat or bite]. I am, however, on a mission, and I CAN'T WAIT to be able to write about my new friend! I'll keep you "posted..." (Bad puns are kind of my thing--sorry!)

Goodbye, Frumpy...(easier said than done...)

It turns out, I used to be hot. No--it's true. I KNOW what you are thinking..."I KNEW her then (whenever "used to" was...) or dated her then and she was NOT 'hot'," but I'm sorry to say it--you are wrong.

I looked at old pictures the other night and didn't even RECOGNIZE the person in those photos. I literally ran (yes--LITERALLY) to the mirror to do a comparative study. The result? I used to be hot. Now...well, let's just say I USED to be hot. It's really all relative.

 Here's the thing--I never THOUGHT I was hot--or even too pleasing to the eye. I knew I wasn't a heinous abomination or anything and children didn't run screaming from the room when I entered (though they don't do that now, either--unfortunately...), I just didn't realize just how good I looked. Comparatively speaking. You see, if we all had a glimpse into what COULD happen, we would be far more secure with ourselves and our present state of...hotness. Compared to the facial hair-ridden-under-eye-bag-wearin'- child-totin'-overweight mess I've become, I would even go as far as to say I was SMOKIN'. Yeah--that's right--I said it. And I will not hear otherwise from naysayers.

I look at pictures of high school and college friends and they look like they walked off of the Desperate Housewives set. Perfect makeup (pshaw...MAKEUP!), perfect hair, perfect bodies...I think they may even...SHOWER. REGULARLY. Bitches. Just kidding--excuse the language. Especially since those of you reading ARE hot--and have kept your hotness throughout childbirth and parenting. Some of you are even HOTTER than you were (as if that could even be POSSIBLE!). Instead of calling you names, I need to be happy for you--and I am. Really. In fact, there should be some kind of an award or something for those of you who didn't lose it...I know how hard it had to be considering how hard it was for ME to be HERE! Yes...it could get WORSE...I need to do something about it. TODAY.

 So if I get "hot" again, will I know it, or will I constantly be reaching for something that is unattainable? I think of when I used to babysit (I didn't stop until I was like thirty--I made more money doing that than what I made TEACHING. So sad...) and some of the moms REALLY had it together and were still hot. Some of the moms, however, didn't start to look (their degree of) "hot" until well after their children left the toddler years. Don't get me wrong--no one got THIS bad and they were all pretty--I'm talking about HOT. You could tell they missed it and when they got it back, they took frumpy by the neck and laid it out for good. THIS inspires me. A little laser-hair treatment (a dear friend asked me after the chin hair debacle why I haven't done this yet. Money? Time? Complacency? Good question!), regular trips to the gym (instead of four days on...one week off...one day on...two weeks off...three days...you get it), clothing that doesn't look like I got it from the PE lost and found...THESE things will help in my quest. And THIS time I will appreciate HOT. I will embrace it, love it and nurture it like it is a deserted baby on a stoop. Hopefully then, it won't leave me again.

DO NOT look at my chin every time I see you now...

So it started out with three ugly hairs. Three wiry, disgusting hairs poking out of my chin; firmly standing erect and ready to fight, like The Three Soldiers standing on the National Mall. At first I plucked. I plucked every time I sensed they may peek out and introduce themselves to others. I even tried plucking when they weren’t visible—digging a canyon into my chin that Arizona would envy. I’m sure the bloody gash was MUCH more appealing than any hair would be.

Junior year of college is when I’d had enough. Those lonely hairs poking through the scar on my chin were really cramping my style. I lived with New York’s version of Snookie and she insisted on waxing them. She wanted my disgusting friends to be set free, and she knew she was the one to do it.

“What about regrowth? Won’t it create more hair?” were questions that were answered with scoffing and a hair flip. “Everyone knows that after waxing over a long period of time, the hair eventually goes away completely.” Not EVERYONE knew that, but I decided to take her word for it.

The day finally came. In a huge kitchen in a soon-to-be condemned college house, Snookie went after those hairs like a mother gorilla to the gnats buried in her baby’s fur. When she finished, my chin felt smoother than ever. It WORKED! By the end of the month, the hairs were back—and they had a friend. Waxed them off and the chin was smoothe. Wax on, wax off --Mr. Miagi style--that’s what happened each month with my chin and every time we “waxed off,” a new friend would appear. At this rate, I would look like Lincoln before the end of the year, but I couldn’t stop. After several years of this (along with three babies, two hysterectomies and changing hormones), I finally threw in my waxing towel and decided to go back to plucking. I didn’t want to battle my husband each month to see whose chin hairs were longer. After winning several times, I knew there was a problem.

Thanks, Snookie—because of your brilliance and insistence that waxing wouldn’t do anything but help, I live in fear that my son will ask ME how to maintain his beard properly.

To curse or not to curse...

So we are driving with my son (Brayden) and his best friend on Saturday and his friend is telling a story about these boys he befriended in his neighborhood. One of the boys, it seems, likes to use curse words. ALL of them. "I shouldn't say them, right Miss Nika?" he innocently asks. "NO!" my husband and I (finally doing something ALONE and TOGETHER) yelled and practically jumped out of our seats.

 "I mean, that's okay--it's good that you know they aren't okay to say. Sometimes friends aren't told that their words are wrong or that they can hurt other people.  Sometimes it hurts people's feelings just by SAYING the word, even if it isn't meant as an insult,"   I added, trying to deflate the fear he may have felt when the two of us jumped on him.

"Yeah," Brayden contributed. "I know the 'H' word the 'S' word the 'D' word and the 'F' word and I wouldn't want to hear ANYONE say them!" He nodded, knowingly.

My husband and I exchanged glances and I asked, "Really? I'm glad you know not to use them...you won't be in trouble for saying them now...I don't mind, do you, [best friend]?" "No! What are they, Brayden?"

"Hatestupiddumbandfreak!"  he shouted in one breath. "And I'll try not to say them. EVER."

I love my son.