Denise Harrington's Blog

2011-07-21T14:33:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I've blogged. Gosh. Great highlights about my little ones... Cashlin will be starting Kindergarten in the end of August. He is so excited. I'll never forget his Kindergarten interview. He left with a teacher for about 20 minutes. I waited in the library for his return. When the teacher who interviewed him walked him back to me, she told me when they were done, Cashlin had said, "Well, this was easy." What a little smarty pants. I know he's going to enjoy school. I can't believe how much this kid loves to soak up information. Right now he's taking a Jr. Scientist class. They've learned how to make a rocket, examined plants and leaves and looked for fossils. How cute is that? He loves it. Now Ava...well, she's a feisty little crab ass. Sometimes she is the biggest cuddle bug, and other times she is a HUGE terror. She is such a girly girl though. Yay for me! Even though we look completely opposite, I know she got her feminine side from me. She loves wearing tutus, loves the color purple and tells me every morning she dreamed of unicorns, butterflies and rainbows. That's pretty sweet, isn't it? She's been in gymnastics for the last nine months and I'm hoping it's something she'll want to continue for a long time. I love watching her. Now let's see...the most scrumptious one of all...my little Dillon. The last few days he's been taking his first steps. Oh my god, I could cry. I'm in denial. I want him to be a baby forever. FOREVER. I can't let go. Maybe I'll just quit my birth control shot. I love babies! haha He is wonderful and is my favorite out of all three. Can I say that? I can tell he's a little momma's boy, and I love it! Time is just flying by. I can't believe it's the end of July already. Can't believe my first baby will be starting Kindergarten. Can't believe my hubby is turning 40 soon. Can't believe life is so busy. Some days I feel like I'm going to go insane. Like really insane. And other days, I'm the happiest mommy. I feel so at peace. Hmmm, and I still like to end my day with a (giant) glass of wine. Red, please.

2011-05-19T20:45:00.000-07:00

This last week, Cashlin has sadly disappointed me. Greatly. I know as moms, we are supposed to wake up and be happy. Each day is a new day. We aren't supposed to stay mad at our kids. Hold grudges. Save that for our hubbies. ha ha But I feel like I've been really mad at him. So mad that I've taken away his favorite toys, haven't allowed him dessert for days, no juice, no candy...no na da. Why?? Because a few days ago, I took Cashlin to an indoor playground. While there he called a cute little girl a fatty. This cute little girl was smart and knew I was his mom and came running to tell me. And boy, was I pissed. Fatty?? Oh my god. Is my kid a bully? He really didn't have all that much to say except she was in the fire truck with him and there wasn't enough room....so he did what any nice kid would do, called her a fatty. Should I be to blame for this because we call Dillon a chubby little fatty. FUCK! Hmm. ... But then a few days ago, he told his big cousin that she was stupider than fuck. FUCK! What is happening to my child????????

2011-03-24T20:06:00.000-07:00

The worst mother in history -- that was me today. Oh my god, how can I even admit this?? You know I'm a cleaning freak. Like full on. This evening Cashlin and Ava were playing in the den while I was vacuuming. Ava fell on the ground and just stayed there. I said, "Ava, move for Mommy." But she didn't move. And for some reason, I honestly don't know what happened, my arm stroke went out super far ... and ... well, I vacummed up her -- hair!! Oh my god! It was horrible. Horrible. She was crying. So loud. And it all happened so fast. I slammed my foot into the vacuum trying to turn it off. Of course, I missed the button and had to go for it again. I ran to her yelling, "AVAAAAAAA!!! DON'T MOOOOOOOOVE!!!!!!!" Okay, I've sucked up one of her doggy's leashes before, and all I had to do was pull the doggy and the leash came out. SOOOOO, I kind of thought it would be the same with her hair. Her big chunk of hair on her left side. Oh my god, at least I prayed it would be the same. I was in total panic mode. What the hell would I tell her Daddy?? What would I tell my family?? I just pictured Ava with half her hair chopped off. I pictured me getting out the largest scissors in the world and cutting off a massive chunk of her blonde hair. Holy shit. DAMN!! -- it wasn't the same as the doggy leash. I couldn't just pull her hair loose. It wouldn't just come out. I ran for a knife and took apart my vacuum... the part that turns around and around. Slowly I unraveled her hair losing quite a few strands, I must admit. All while my daughter lay still, crying, staring at me with huge bug eyes...probably thinking I am undoubtedly the worst mother in the world. I feel awful.

2011-03-22T21:17:00.001-07:00

Cashlin's had a fascination with boobs lately. I kind of thought this would happen a little later in life, but nope, he's noticed them now and wants to discuss everyone's boobs...mine, Nana's, all his aunty's, Barbie's breasts, Tinkerbell's, Ava's lack of, his big cousin Gina's, Gwen on "Ben 10," all the superhero girls' boobs -- and the most recent, his babysitter's boobs. She will remain nameless. We will call her "S." S has rather large boobs. Okay, they're actually huge. She's been babysitting for us for awhile, and I was shocked he hadn't mentioned them earlier. Today he did. He said, "Mommy, don't get mad..." I love when he starts off a sentence like that. ha ha ..."but I don't want to get close to S's boobs because she has a lot of milk in them and they might squirt me." Holy shit. I laughed and laughed. Do you think I need to explain the whole boobs and milk thing?? Maybe if I never tell him, he'll always stay away from boobs. He'll be a boob fearing teenager thinking breasts will squirt squirt squirt him all over the place.

2011-02-15T18:45:00.000-08:00

I sat in my car the other day and just laughed at myself. Even little Ava said, "Mommy, what are you doing??" But I couldn't help it. I just laughed and laughed. I've been so excited about registering Cashlin for Kindergarten. It's all I've been thinking about the last few weeks. I'm so overly organized, it's ridiculous. No wonder I'm such a high stress person. I filled all his forms out weeks in advance, took him for his shots, took him to see the dentist -- I was all set! Marked my calendar "REGISTER CASHLIN FOR SCHOOL!!!" in bold, big letters. Registration began at 9am last Wednesday morning. Oh my gosh, I couldn't wait. I even felt nervous. Would there be a big line? I packed snacks for Ava, packed toys for Dillon, dropped Cashlin off at preschool early and took off for his future school. I pictured the parking lot full of cars and crazy Kindergarten-to-be parents. Where would I parked, I wonder??? Okay, typical me...I arrive and it looks like a regular day at his school. There is no huge line up. There are no psycho parents running around. Oh -- except for me. Yes, me. I almost thought that I was there the wrong day, but then I knew that wasn't true. There was no way I was there the wrong day. Not me. I mean, come on, I called the day before just to make sure I had the right day written down on my calendar (even though I had the Kindergarten packet with the date right in front of me). I opened the door and saw the school secretary. I even started to laugh saying, "Is registration for Kindergarten today??" Of course it was. And I was the first person there. What the hell was I expecting?? -- people camping out like for American Idol?? I sat in my car afterwards and laughed at myself. I need to chill out. Most definitely.

2011-02-11T12:43:00.000-08:00

When I don't like my children, they are no longer "my" children. All of a sudden, they become just my husband's children. I refer to them as "his" children or "his" child. I will call him at work upset because Cashlin is acting like a little ass and I will say, "Cowboy, you need to beat your son." ha ha Okay, we don't beat our children, but I like pretending. Seriously though, "Cowboy, your son is making me SOOOOOO mad. I'm going insane here! Please come home." That never works. He never comes home. It totally doesn't make him rush home to the rescue. If anything, after hearing what I have to say and after hearing Cashlin screaming and crying in the background, he tells me how busy he is at work and he'll be home later than expected. ha ha I guess I don't blame him.

2011-02-01T19:36:00.000-08:00

The stress about Kindergarten. Makes me laugh. My child is only four...barely starting school, and I'm already stressed. I sat at the table with Cashlin filling out his Kindergarten packet. I went through all the questions went him. "Cashlin, can you count to 30? Can you spell your name? Can you write your name? Can you cut shapes?" and on and on the list went. There was one, however, that Cashlin did not know -- his last name. Harrington. Hmmm. Okay, this is a long one, but there was no chance in hell I was marking "NO" on this sheet. My child is a star, obviously. ha ha So the stress began. I wrote HARRINGTON on a piece of paper and taped it on the dinner table where he sits. Every time he sat down, I asked him to spell his last name. After a few days, I began to cover the paper with my hand. Then we worked on writing it out. In a week time, I had Cashlin spelling and writing his last name. It was a success! Am I a freakin' crazy parent? Or is that just the teacher in me? Shit, I better start working on Ava. I fear she is way behind. ha ha "What is that, Ava? What are you saying??? AVA, WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?????"

2011-01-03T16:46:00.000-08:00

Years ago, I had these great, great leather boots. They came up to my knee. Black leather. Hot heel. They were indeed sexy. I called them my "fuck me boots" because they were that hot. Hot enough to wear with nothing on and get fucked. I have no idea what happened to my fuck me boots. I think they disappeared with a big portion of my sexyhood. Maybe it happened when I got pregnant with Cashlin. Or maybe right after having him, I'm not sure. Sad to say, it's definitely diminished. Blame it on the four year old, two year old and four month old living in my house. They drain me of everything. Hey, don't worry, when I clean up, I can still be one hot, sexy mama! Anyways, to get to the point of my story...this Christmas I opened up a very large, long box from Cowboy. I knew right away it was a pair of boots. I lifted the top to find the sexiest, and I mean, sexiest boots ever. Now these were fuck me boots. Black leather. Stiletto heel. Boot which ran all the way up to the middle of my THIGH. Yes, my thigh. Shit, I've only seen boots like these on Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Do women really wear these? Cowboy went on and on about how he asked so many women their opinion at the store, how it took so long to pick the right boot, blah blah blah...and all I kept thinking was where are my slippers I asked for??? Where are the slippers I wanted????? Sure slippers aren't thigh high. They aren't leather. There's no high high skinny heel...but I wanted SLIPPERS!! Can men just follow instructions?? Did he really think I was going to wear those to take Cashlin to preschool, play with Ava at the park and grocery shop at Albertsons??? ha ha ha

2010-12-14T08:15:00.000-08:00

After being home all weekend with the kids, Cowboy uttered those seven great words..."I don't know how you do this." What else is there to say?? Thank you very much, Cowbs.

2010-12-02T20:26:00.000-08:00

If Dillon could talk, I know he would say this: I love your boobs, Mommy. I love that you have not just one but two of them. They're the greatest things ever...invented most likely just for me, so I can be attached to you all day long. I love it. No matter what happens during the day, your boobs always make me the happiest. When I'm tired, sad or hungry, they're there to comfort me. I love when I wake up in the morning and your nipple is poking me in the eye. I love trying to find your nipple in the dark hours of the night...sucking every inch of your breast until I find it...or until you wake and shove it in my mouth. You and I are so close, and well, it's because of your boobs. Thank you for being my 24/7 pub. You rock!

2010-11-18T11:44:00.001-08:00

Last year at this time, I was just getting ready for ovulation. I remember thinking Thanksgiving was coming and that making a baby would be the greatest Thanksgiving gift. Funny enough, Cowboy and I were in Canada that week staying with his parents. We had sex on his sister's creaky bed in her old bedroom. I kept shushing him and laughing picturing his mom or younger brother walking through the door. The next day we had a quickie on the floor. We put pillows to block the door. Then we went downstairs for tea and brown bread like nothing had ever happened. That Thanksgiving weekend, Cowboy and I created a tiny miracle. Dillon. Who is now three months old and the happiest, sweetest little soul. I am so very thankful for him and all the smiles he brings in our home. Cashlin and Ava adore every inch of him. Cashlin tells me he just wants to eat Dillon up. Hmm, where does he get that from, I wonder??

2010-10-22T15:38:00.000-07:00

We got a gift card to Marshalls. I was so excited thinking of all the things we need. I told Cashlin on the way, we'd buy some long sleeve shirts for him, pj's for Dillon and Ava and underwear for Mommy. He thought it was hysterical that I needed new undies. I don't know why. After laughing up a storm, he asked me why I needed new underwear. I told him that my other ones are really old. I said some are worn out looking and some are stretched out. My sweet 4 year old then asked, "Why? Because your vagina is too big?" Okay, here we go with my vagina again. I don't know why he would think my delicious little that has stretched out my panties. That area seems to be his new topic of fascination, I guess. First he doesn't like looking at it, then it's smelly and now it's obviously huge to him. Hmmm. Interesting. And humorous. I did laugh. Then promptly told him that it's not big. Now, if he had said my butt...well, that I might agree with at the moment. ha ha Oh, little Cashlin. Stop picking on Mommy's vagina. Please.

2010-10-12T15:19:00.000-07:00

I gave Cowboy a blow job last night. It was the first blow job in like...forever. I used to joke that married women didn't have to give bj's. I mean, come on. We're married. Do we really have to go down on them?? ha ha Okay, okay. Last night I had a change of heart. I'd been thinking about it for a while. Maybe in order to tame my bad boy, I have to give him a little extra special lovin'. And what do boys like?? Blow jobs. Yes, they do. Now, I'm just curious, how many calories in a mouthful of sperm? Anyone know?

2010-10-08T15:58:00.000-07:00

Cowboy's at a wedding in Chicago this weekend. He just arrived today. We spoke moments ago, and he told me of a friend who's now getting a divorce. When I asked why, he told me that his friend said his wife is crazy. I'm sorry but why is it when men are getting divorced, they say their wife is crazy?? I remember hearing that in high school -- "that girl is crazy." Don't men ever realize that it is THEM who drive us crazy?? I mean, seriously. If someone heard about some of the things I've done to Cowboy, they'd definitely call me crazy. But hey, I'm not crazy. I CAN be crazy, for sure! I can be psycho crazy if provoked and proud of it. Men drive us crazy. That's all there is to it. Let's take this back a step...a man falls in love with a woman. He has a relationship with her. He marries her. Maybe they have kids. And all of a sudden she goes crazy?? nutso?? NO. That woman and all the other labeled "crazy" women in the world, are the same person from the beginning. They've just put up with a bunch of shit from their "at the moment" loser husband and now they've gone crazy on their ass.

2010-10-03T13:49:00.001-07:00

Cowboy and I had date night last night. First time in a very long time. We were going out to celebrate his 39th birthday and, of course, we did take baby Dillon with us. (Does that still count as date night?? ha ha) Earlier in the day, I tried on numerous outfits for Cash trying to find something that would fit, something that is sexy, something that would make Cowbs see me as a hottie wife again. (I don't look hot when he comes home from work. NOT AT ALL.) During my fashion show, Cash told me that he doesn't like seeing my vagina. I told him that this is my room and he certainly doesn't have to look at my vagina. I tried not to laugh. I find it funny that he looks at my vagina and takes note of it. That he, my 4 year old, finds it to be something he doesn't like to look at. This is funny to me, and I guess a sign that I can't be naked in front of him any longer. What wasn't funny was moments later...he told me that my vagina smells. Okay, let's be clear -- mommy's vagina doesn't smell. Never. And I had just showered. I actually got annoyed with him expressing this. (Meaning I got MAD.) I know he's full of shit and just being a little ass. This is typical Cash behavior. However, I still can't get over that my 4 year old would even comment on a smelly vagina. WHY? Why is his little brain even thinking this way? Hmmm. Later in my fashion show, he told me that my butt and belly looked big. I really want to love my child but am finding it hard. ha ha

2010-10-01T13:12:00.001-07:00

Does anyone know how long goldfish live??? Last Saturday we went to a little fair at our new parish. It was so SO hot out. Unbearable. We bought snow cones and then saw that cute game where you throw a tiny white ball in a bowl to win a fish. I was never EVER good at that game. I remember always playing it at the carnival my elementary school had growing up. Cashlin and Ava were begging for a fish. Begging ME to win them a fish. OH GOD. I asked the guy if I could just buy a fish without playing. For $6 he said. With the bowl and little baggie of food??? What a great deal I thought. Yeah, okay, until three days later we found Goldie dead. Flipped over in her bowl. Poor Cashlin was crying and insisting she wasn't dead because her eyes were open. (I found that to be hysterical.) What the hell happened?? I gave her a flake a day to eat. Kept her in a cool spot. Somebody explain -- what happened to our fish?? First, the gofer, then the baby birds and now our fishie. Animals just die here, and it's really sad.

2010-09-08T17:09:00.000-07:00

I'm a breastfeeding mommy...and I swear, all day long, all I do is breastfeed. I forgot how often newborns nurse. I forgot how much they just love the boob. Usually the day seems to pass rather slowly, but ever since I had Dillon, the hours go by so quickly. I look at the clock and think oh my god, didn't I just feed you??? How can that be??? Two hours go by in a snap. And this nighttime nursing thing is killing me. (ha ha) I look so tired -- and sadly, so old too. boo hoo hoo. Another thing to cry about?? Well, it's been chilly these last two days. I get so cold so easily. I took my jeans out of my drawer this morning. Come on, ask me. Did I really think they would fit??? What was I thinking?? Thank god I can pull them up my legs and over my ass, but they were MANY INCHES away from buttoning. Shit, that's so sad.

2010-08-29T19:17:00.000-07:00

On Friday night my family of five went out for dinner for the first time. Mommy (ME) was craving to get out of the house but also, more importantly, a HUGE margarita. We went to a nearby Mexican restaurant. All outdoors. A cute cantina in the hills. I showered beforehand and tried to look somewhat sexy even though I don't fit in any of my regular size clothes. I did the best with what I could and totally sucked SUCKED in my belly (well, at least I tried). I couldn't have been any happier when the largest strawberry margarita was placed in front of me. YUMMMMMMM. Cashlin and Ava tried their hardest to get their little paws on my drink. It was funny. But what was even funnier was the gigantic buzz I got off this one (very large) drink. Suddenly life seemed better. My family was adorable. Nothing my kids did bothered me. My husband was hilarious. Everything was making me laugh...until I felt a wetness spread across my chest. I looked down to see an ENORMOUS wet circle right smack on top of both my boobs. Okay, note to self: I need to buy nursing pads. Motherhood is funny.

2010-08-27T09:12:00.000-07:00

Last night was the first difficult night with Dillon. I always find it interesting that you can have a great, easy day with your baby...they sleep all day like little angels...then nighttime comes, and WHAM! Your baby has turned into the Antichrist. From midnight till almost 3am, I stared at Dillon in the dark. Eyes wide. I begged, "Please, Dillon, go to sleep. PLEASE." He was so unhappy. I swear he had gas. He would be fine for a second or two. His eyes would even close, and my heart would rejoice. Then -- WAAAAAAAAA!! He'd start screaming like he was in pain. Legs kicking. Arms shaking. His tiny mouth let out such a wail. I was so tired and so sad. I would have felt bad for Cowboy, but he had his ear plugs in and didn't seem to wake once. Must be nice, Daddy. By the way, he hasn't even changed ONE of Dillon's diapers yet. Hmmm. Another thing to think about. ha ha

2010-08-25T10:58:00.001-07:00

In the grocery store yesterday, I bought two items -- white rice and maxi pads (ugh). Cashlin asked me what I was buying in the girlie aisle and I replied, "Nothing." I threw the pads into our cart. He was walking slowly behind me in the store. We were now walking by the milk and eggs. I told him to hurry up. He yelled, "I know what those are, Mom! You put those things up your butt!" I don't know if I'm one of those people whose face changes color, but I swear it did yesterday. I was really embarrassed and then I started laughing. It wasn't until we got into the car that I said, "Listen here, mister, I don't put these things up my butt. In fact, I don't put anything up my butt. Got it?" All he did was laugh at me. He loves the word "butt." Butt and poop.

2010-08-21T13:50:00.000-07:00

Maxi Pads with Wings. Not just any ol' wings -- Flexi-Wings. This is what I like least about giving birth. Having to wear pads. Big pads. Long ones with wings attached. Dusting off my granny panties and wearing maxi pads. Oh my god. Do women really buy these things unless they have to?? I don't believe it. Thank god for the invention of tampons...though who rejoices about tampons either?? I guess, girls like me -- the ones who have to wear these atrociously big, long maxi pads with wings. How terribly unsexy can you get? UGH.

2010-08-17T13:09:00.000-07:00

My baby, Ava, killed three baby birds today. This is a sad sad story. Yesterday in our backyard, we saw a family of birds. The mommy, daddy and at least eight babies. The smallest little baby birds ever. They were so so cute. So so tiny. I trapped Cashlin and Ava in the house. I didn't want Cashlin and Ava to scare them away. I didn't want the whole family to go crazy, and I certainly didn't want the baby birds to get separated from their momma. This morning we saw the babies out there still. Chirping and tweeting. Bouncing around the grass. I was surprised. Cashlin was so excited...and Ava too. I made sure the door was locked. Until a little bit ago...
I was washing dishes and Ava wanted to go outside. Cashlin is at preschool, so I let Ava out. I watched from the slider. She was jumping around following the baby birds. They were chirping and running from her. She looked so happy and excited. Never did I think she'd pick up a bird. I didn't think she'd even be able to pick one up if she tried. Before long she appeared at the door with her hands cupped. "Momma, come see baby birds." I felt my heart hurt. I went and opened the slider to see her unveil her hands. Two baby birds. One, I knew right away, was dead. Legs sticking straight out. Eyes closed. The other was barely moving. Chest barely rising and falling. I felt sick. I started to cry and pretty much have been crying since this happened earlier. I feel so horrible. I feel so responsible. I took the second baby bird to a shady spot in hopes that he can recover. Hopefully momma bird will rescue him and he will be fine. When doing this, I found two more birdies in the grass. They were already dead. I don't know if she stepped on them or what. Can this story get any worse??? So, my daughter has slaughtered a family of birdies. Cute little fuzzy baby birds. I know she has no idea of what she's done. Even when seeing me cry, she said, "cute baby birds mommy, cute birdies." Eyes wide. Placing her hands in the cup position. Now all I can think about is this family of birds and what a sad, sad day it is. I'm sure the mommy and daddy are going to shit all over our house and cars now. We are in for some major revenge. I am sure of this! Will they ever forgive poor little Ava?

2010-08-08T17:19:00.000-07:00

I'm so happy I made it all week.
One more night...
tomorrow IS the big big day!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Can't wait to meet you Dillon.

2010-08-07T18:32:00.000-07:00

2 more nights...

2010-08-04T16:20:00.000-07:00

I wonder how many $1 mcdoubles I have to eat before I become unrecognizable....

ps -- 5 more nights and counting.

2010-08-02T20:02:00.001-07:00

7 nights to go and counting...

2010-07-29T19:12:00.000-07:00

Here I am, 37 weeks pregnant, and I can't believe it. Eleven days till my scheduled c-section. ... But really, I know this baby can come at any time, and I'm nervous. Really really nervous. Every night I've been having anxiety. What if it happens tonight? What if my water breaks? Can my mom get here fast enough? Will we have to wake the kids and put them in the car? Will I remember my camera and camcorder? But the biggie -- WILL I BE IN PAIN??? I'm sorry, but I'll never forget the amount of pain I was in when my water broke with Ava. It was immediate and it was ridiculously intense. I remember Cowboy trying to pick me up off the lawn in our front yard at 3am. I thought I was going to die. I thought something was totally wrong. There's no way women go through pain like this. Natural childbirth?? Are you shitting me?? No fucking way. I was going to break open. Break in half. The pressure. Oh my god. Like the World's Largest Watermelon is making its way out your vagina or your ass -- you can't really tell which one because that whole 'down under' region feels the same. It's all just gonna break open. And the distinct memory of that night and that pain has traumatized me. For good. And that's why every night I go to bed thinking that nightmare can very well happen again, and I get very very sad (and nervous and nauseated and anxious). Please, God, let this little one stay in my belly till August 9th. 11 nights to go and counting...

2010-07-08T09:41:00.000-07:00

Our new neighbor across the street is an old, old man. I would even say he's on the brink of death -- yes, he looks that old. There is always a young girl in his home. She comes and goes. Before summer, she had a bag full of books. I thought to myself how sweet, his granddaughter must live with him. She probably takes care of him and keeps him company. Awww. Even Cowboy thought it was his nurse if not a relative. Come to find out this very young girl in her twenties is my neighbor's girlfriend. As he told Cowboy, she is my "much younger girlfriend." Hmmm. Okay. Much younger, huh? I think that is an understatement. She's more like his much, much, much younger girlfriend. So much younger that I think I'm having issues with it. Look, I know it's none of my business, and the last thing I want to do is judge him...but I can't help it! I think I'm seriously grossed out. I'm not really offended, I just can't really believe it. I'm a total nosy neighbor now. The kind who peeks out the front window and watches them in disbelief. Are you kidding me? What is this girl thinking? And what is he thinking? This professor of English who meets a student and together they go for coffee -- and then what?? They fall in love?? That isn't possible. You have to see this man. He is no Hugh Hefner living in a mansion. He is no Michael Douglas -- famous older actor marrying hot, beautiful young actress. He is a decrepit older man, and he gives me the shivers now.

2010-06-29T21:22:00.001-07:00

My little Cashlin started preschool today. His very first day. This was huge to me. Huge. It apparently was pretty huge to him too because for the last few days, that's all he's been asking me about...."will you stay?, how long am I going for?, what will I do there?, will you pick me up?, what will you do when I'm there?" I think the pair of us had a lot of anxiety. I felt like it was my first day of school too. I could barely sleep last night. I felt nervous. My tummy hurt, and I couldn't eat a thing for breakfast. Even though he was only going for three hours, I felt like my heart was going to be torn to pieces. I was very emotional about it, though I tried to keep it together this morning. He seemed happy and excited when he woke up. When we arrived there, I took many pictures and he smiled and even danced a little. Then when it was time for me to leave, he held on to my dress. He started to make that sad face, the same face I remember seeing the moment he came out of me, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to remain sane. I had to leave his school. His teacher Ms. Miriam gave me a little gift bag full of tissues, a Nestle crunch bar and a gift card to Starbucks. Inside was a poem about how parents feel on the first day of school -- their child's first day actually. I have to say, as much as I love chocolate and caramel frappucino's, the gift bag didn't cheer me up. I took Ava to my car, buckled her in and cried, cried, cried. Then I sat at home like a wreck until it was almost noon. I couldn't wait to see my boy again.

2010-06-24T21:21:00.000-07:00

I love when Ava beats up on her big brother. I think it's just hysterical. Cashlin is such a pain in the ass. He always takes her toys. He never shares his toys. Everything of hers is his but, of course, nothing is hers. He has no problem pushing her aside, whipping things right of out her teeny hands, or bossing her around. It drives me nuts. I constantly feel like a referee trying to break them up. Make things right. Sometimes Ava just can't take it anymore. I see it in her eyes. She looks psychotic. Her face gets red. Her hands curl up in tight, tiny balls. She either grabs a huge chunk of his hair, a piece of his face or smacks him hard any place she can. And the strength!! Oh my goodness! I am so proud of my two year old daughter. She is strong. She does serious damage. Very impressive. I am glad she sticks up for herself, and I don't blame her for going crazy on her big brother. He is supposed to protect her and love her. I wonder when that happens? I have two older sisters. 7 and 8 years older than me. I remember them being so mean to me. So mean, I wanted to kill them. Seriously kill them. I remember my oldest sister would sit on me so I couldn't move my arms or legs. Then my other sister would put our dog, Bentley, on my face. He was a Dachshund. Cute dog but not cute on my face. That was the worst torture ever. I will not let that happen to Ava. I will teach her now to protect herself -- from all boys!

2010-05-25T06:27:00.000-07:00

I love my little boy. I have the hugest crush on him. Ever. It drives me crazy how much I love him -- and how much I sometimes am so angry at him. But this morning, I woke up proud of him. Happy and excited. For the last three months, Cashlin has been crawling into our bed. Usually around 2:30 am. Like a little lizard, he creeps in between us. He jams his feet into my back. Or his knees. His stinkie blankie rubs by my face and makes me gasp. (ok, it isn't that bad but it's bad.) I wake in the early morning to see his cute body curled next to me like a cat. His tush is usually in the air and feels cold. I wrap my duvet around him. I stare at him and think he's the most beautiful boy in the world. Then I wonder, how the hell am I going to get him back into his bed??? I don't know why it started. It just did. One night, many nights ago, he came into our bed in our old house before the move. This wasn't unusual...but it kept happening. Every single night. Then I knew there was a problem. I felt sad for him. He talked about being scared. Said he was thinking of werewolves and dragons. He even asked Cowboy if a werewolf could get into his bedroom and what his daddy would do to protect him. Okay, so we let it slide for a bit. Now it's been a few months, and I had to pull the tough love card. Shit, I hate this card. And it's always me. Not Cowboy. Nope. He still sleeps with ear plugs and doesn't give a shit that our four year old crams his body in between us. It only wakes me. Why should he care?? Yesterday I took Cashlin to Target. He said he wanted a night light. Oh, please god, let this be the cure, I had hoped. He picked out a Princess Disney light. Pink with Aurora and her castle behind her. I picked out the Toy Story light. Then the one from Cars. No, he kept saying. "Are you sure?" I asked. Hhmm. Okay. I heard Cowboy in his bed last night. "Now tell me, why did you pick this princess light out?? -- (and before Cashlin could answer he continued) -- "because she's really hot, right? You think she's hot?" Oh my god. Is my husband for real?? Well, it doesn't matter to me if Cashlin likes his nails painted or his hair in teeny pony tails. And it certainly doesn't matter if he likes Aurora because she's hot or because she lives in a castle and a knight comes to wake her with his kiss. I only care that last night he slept all night in his bed, and I am so damn proud of him.

2010-05-13T17:44:00.000-07:00

Cashlin's been saying some pretty funny stuff lately. My favorite? A few days ago he asked, "Mommy, how do boobs make milk?" And last night in bed, out of the blue, he said, "Momma, Ava's vagina doesn't look like a vagina because it doesn't have any hair." I LOVE this child.

2010-04-26T22:03:00.000-07:00

Living in Reseda, we had a handful of stray cats in our backyard. I hate cats. I don't mind the real pretty pretty ones that almost look like white fluffy statues, but I detest the dirty, skinny, crapping on our lawn, wild ones. The ones who look mean. The ones who bare their teeth and hiss. The ones with claws the size as Dracula's fangs. Who stare right at you as if to say "fuck you, I'll do what I want in your backyard." I knew moving out of Reseda meant saying adios to all those fricken cats. There is no way in hell I would be moving to a new city ruled by wild pussy cats. And we didn't. Instead it seems we have a new critter on our hands. One I am not too familiar with -- the raccoon. I don't even think I've seen one in real life. I know they are gray with black "masks" over their eyes. Little thiefs in the night. Our little thief loves this one section of grass right by our back door. We have lawn all over the place but nope. He likes this one patch RIGHT by the door. The first thing you see when you walk out, of course. When we moved in, the old owner told us about our furry friend. She said he likes it -- right there. He apparently loves rollie pollies and worms. Ummm, okay. Can't he find those in our neighbor's backyard?? She also said it's good to keep the grass long because he won't come around and dig if it's long. Oh. Okay. So our gardener planted sod in this area. My plan? Well, to get the sod to grow long and then be rid of the raccoon. I never thought he'd actually dig up all the sod. Just flip the pieces over and leave them there for morning. After he ate his snack, couldn't he be so kind as to flip the sod back into place?? ha ha Okay, but honestly, I'd rather leave him a plate of leftovers. I wish the little guy and I could just talk and compromise. I read they like eggs and marshmallows. I'd tell him, "Look, you can have it all. Just don't dig up our grass!" He's come back the last four nights and has flipped up all the sod. I suppose I should be happy he leaves the pieces intact. Oh, thank you, raccoon. The last few nights?? The last few nights, I've thrown beach blankets and towels over the sod. I've covered all edges with bricks found around the house. This is war, people! I am at war with a silly little raccoon. I feel he's in the grapefruit tree right now watching my every step. I wish he'd come out and show his face! HA!

2010-04-16T22:33:00.000-07:00

Today my painter asked if I was sure there was only one baby in my tummy. I thought it was funny and cute at first. He is such a sweet man. He said it so kindly. Though I've been thinking about it all day. Do I really look that BIG? Then, of course, I laugh and think that men don't know shit. What do I care what he thinks?? My mom told me that with each pregnancy a woman's stomach gets larger quicker. Hmmm...my mom also told me in high school that I needed chub around my waist so I could bend and reach for things. ... I really don't know how honest my mother is.

2010-04-05T20:50:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, Cashlin, Ava and I went to The Grove to visit the Easter Bunny. Ever since Cashlin was born, I have taken him to visit this particular bunny. This year he put up a fight. A very expected fight though. He did it with Santa, and I knew he would do the same with the bunny. He whines. He protests. He runs away from me. He yells. He basically acts like a three year old maniac. Temper tantrum all the way. God, something that's supposed to be so fun, sucks ass. Makes Mommy so sad and disappointed. I even try to bribe him with candy or a new toy, but there's no way I can coerce him. This year, however, we also met Cashlin's favorite big cousin there. Gina. She's eighteen and he sees her as the most beautiful supermodel there is. It's actually the cutest thing. It's like he's got a gigantic crush on his big cuz. So no...he wouldn't sit on the Easter Bunny's lap with Ava. BUT, he did sit on Gina's lap right next to the bunny with mom (me) on the other side. That was fine by me. And gosh, did he look super happy in his photo. On our drive home, Cashlin said, "Mommy, that Easter Bunny wasn't real. He had clothes on, and he didn't talk." Gosh, darn. Isn't he too little to already think that???

2010-03-18T20:47:00.000-07:00

Cowboy and I took Cashlin and Ava to my mom's house yesterday morning. I had my big ultrasound appointment. We were so excited. On our way there, Cashlin said, "If you see a bagina on the tv, I'm going to be so mad!!" (His v's still sound like b's.) Cowboy and I laughed so hard. Sometimes I wonder who is this crazy kid in the back seat?? He comes up with the funniest shit for such a little guy. Well, yesterday morning he made it seem like he wanted a baby brother, but by the time we got back to tell him baby was indeed a BOY, he was crying and screaming for a baby sister. Oh god. Okay. Well, hopefully it will sink in these next few months that a baby brother is what he's getting and hopefully he will be happy. At least as happy as can be.

2010-03-13T13:39:00.000-08:00

When you're pregnant, you know your belly's getting big when you have to LEAN over to shave your bikini line. Oh goodness.

2010-03-07T18:47:00.000-08:00

Do you know what I hate most about being pregnant? It's not the weight gain. It's not the need to pee all the time. It's definitely not the front row parking spots at the mall. Or the gas I occasionally have (okay, a bit more than occasionally). It's not how quickly I feel out of breath. It's not that I can't work out like a maniac. I don't hate the fact that my butt widens and my thighs are curvier. I don't mind if my feet swell later down the road. It doesn't even bother me that I feel like an emotional roller coaster half the time. Everything makes me cry. Well, at least anything half way sad makes me cry. I don't mind taking a prenatal vitamin every morning the size of the Rock of Gibraltor either. And yes, my brown spots look...well, browner. UGH. What I really hate is that I can't drink a glass a wine. Okay, not one. Not even two. I can't drink any at all. And sometimes, just sometimes, I really really want a big, full glass of red wine. Like last night. We celebrated a successful house inspection at our soon-to-be new home, and I really wanted to toast and cheers to our new abode. In actuality, I didn't celebrate at all -- except for a few jumps up and down. I bought In & Out burger and that was my treat to myself. (Great, a big double double to help out with my ass.) Instead I enviously watched Cowboy drink a hearty glass of merlot. Boy, was I jealous. So, tonight while baking potatoes, I took a little sip from the bottle. Just a little one, I promise! I couldn't help myself. Today was a day I thought would never end. A day when you can't wait for your little ones to go to bed. I took that sip and thought oh no no no! I shouldn't have! It was the best sip of wine I've ever ever had! HA! That's when I realized that what I hate most about being preggers is not being able to drink wine...red wine...white wine...pomegranate martinis (yum!)...strawberry margaritas with Mexican food...or sangria...sake with sushi...shit...nothing. SAD.

2010-02-21T08:02:00.000-08:00

After Sunday School this morning, Cashlin asked me, "Mommy, if God made our baby, then how did it get in your tummy?" Wow, Sunday School's really paying off. God made our baby?? I thought. Did I have sex with God?? Okay, just kidding. I wasn't sure how to respond. I suppressed my laughter, of course. I love how brilliant my little boy is. So inquisitive. I then said, "Well, God helps a mommy and a daddy make a baby, and it grows in a mommy's tummy." I mean, I think it's great he believes God makes a baby, but I think he's got to have some sense of reality too. How could I not think that he'd respond with the typical three letter question. "HOW?? How, Momma??" At this point, I didn't know what to say. I'm sure there's some mystical, magical story out there that involves God, a mommy and a daddy = a baby, but I had no clue. Maybe I should ask his Sunday School teacher? I told Cashlin, "Love bug, we'll talk about this one later when you're older."

2010-02-18T14:35:00.000-08:00

I am just entering into my second trimester. 14 weeks as of today. I was so nervous because I had a doctor appointment this morning. No, not because I thought something was wrong. But because I knew I was going to have to step on the scale. I'm serious! If you've been reading my last blogs, you know that all I've thought about lately is food. Food. Food. Food. My cravings have been peanut butter, peanut butter with chocolate, peanut butter cookies, lots of cream cheese, chocolate and strawberry ice cream, Fettuccine Alfredo, banana bread, raisin bread, Twix bars, pepperoni and garlic pizza, linguine and clams, Skor bars, red velvet cupcakes, french fries & onion rings covered in Ranch dressing, Doritos, Rice Krispies, garlic bread (loaves of it!), a shit load of Mexican food -- including everything at Taco Bell, Oreo McFlurry's & Oreo cookies, Chinese food delivered at least once a week, butter popcorn, double doubles w/onions from In & Out and those stupid little Goldfish crackers... ha ha. Honestly, this isn't a joking matter. I don't even know if I named everything! Stepping on the scale today was going to be a deal breaker. It was either going to be baby and I eating like normal people from now on, going on a crash course diet or continuing on our path of devouring every type of delicious food known to woman. Now, I don't want you to hate me. So, I'm not going to lie -- I do work out at least five days a week. Fast walking on my treadmill or pushing my jogger and two teeny asses inside around a park or cruising on my elliptical. Nothing too crazy. So today, I got in front of the scale. Took off my shoes. Took off my sweater. And stepped on the scale to see that in four weeks, I've gained...dum dum dummm...three pounds. 3 pounds!! 3 fricken pounds! Come on! Are you kidding me? I've been eating like a ravenous monster. Cowboy was about to chain the refrigerator and cupboards shut. He was going to call our neighborhood Taco Bell, Jack in the Box and McDonald's and tell them not to serve my ass. Only 3 pounds! Unbelievable. I only pray that that scale is accurate. The nurse promised me it is. Ladies -- the bread maker is coming out! I'm making more cinnamon raisin bread right! fricken! now! PS - my neighbor directly across the street finally took down his gosh darn Christmas lights. It's about time, asshole!

2010-02-06T11:30:00.000-08:00

A Reese's Peanut Butter Cup is my most favorite chocolate. I love peanut butter. I love chocolate. And combined?? Oh my goodness. I can't take it. I'm the kind of girl who gets a Hershey bar and dip dip dips it right into my jar of Skippy Peanut Butter. So if it isn't a Reese's, I will make it one! When I was little, I used to get sick on airplanes. All the time. I am probably the only person who uses those little bags in your airplane seat pocket. They're for throwing up, you know. Not for putting your trash in. Not to breathe in. Not to take home as a plane souvenir. Just to yak in. And I would. It would always be the same thing -- a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. I'd beg my mom to buy one for me while waiting for our plane. Every time we were there. And each time I'd fill up my bag with chocolate mush and peanut butter. All swirly and mixed with saliva. What amuses me though, is that it doesn't matter how many times I'd throw up those chocolate cups -- I always wanted to eat more! I still do. On the other hand, I've thrown up due to sickness or just a shitload of alcohol, and I swear, I will NEVER eat (or drink!) whatever it is I've thrown up. If I see mac 'n cheese in the toilet -- that's it. Never again. No matter how much I love it. Just can't do it. It will always remind me of puke and the smell of urine. (Gross.) I made a late night dash to the liquor store yesterday. Craving my usual chocolate. I bought the King size, which I find so hilarious. It's not like a fucking Big Gulp. We're talking 4 little peanut butter cups. I feel like writing the Reese's people and telling them how offensive that is...well, at least for women. I mean, what girl wants to buy a chocolate bar that says KING size in large bold print across the wrapper? They really screwed that one up. Not like it deters me from buying it anyways. But every time I do, I think the same thing. How stupid. It's only 4 teeny cups people! 4! And lastly, I'd like to know how 4 itty bitty cups can = 400 calories. Are they out of their mind??! No. Way.

2010-01-29T17:02:00.000-08:00

"I wish I didn't have such an angry mommy." These were the heart wrenching words spoken by Cashlin today. Angry mommy? ME? Really?? At first I was so sad. Then I got angry (which is funny). But okay, angry? Was I angry when I took him to music class this morning? And we sang retarded songs and danced. Was I angry when I took him to the Big Sugar Bakeshop afterwards, and we ate the yummiest cupcakes ever? And then a peanut butter cookie! Was I angry then? Oh, how about later today -- when he slammed his middle finger in his door? And I knew the only thing that would cheer him up is a big bowl of vanilla ice cream and his favorite episode of The Hulk? Was I angry then?? I feel like I live to make my kids' lives wonderful. I want every moment to be so special for them. I'm always thinking of new things to do. New places to take them. Fun surprises. Their favorite food and snacks. But then, MAN! Do I get shit on! I know it's stupid to be sensitive, because let's face it, Cashlin says at least one asshole thing a day to me -- and he's only three! Thank god Ava barely talks yet (which, by the way, I'm getting worried about all her mumbling and squeaky talk...what the hell is she saying??). I can't wait till the two of them gang up on me. That will be a glorious day. I'll probably drink a bottle of wine a night -- by myself, thank you very much. Not embarrassed to admit that. So anyways, why was I angry? Because he pulled Ava's hair so hard, her head flung back and she fell down? Because he pointed at a guy walking by and started laughing yelling how "fat" he is? (And no, I don't teach that at home.) Because he peed all over the toilet seat and the floor and didn't tell me? I only found out when I sat my ass down. Lovely. Oh, was it because he flung his spoon with cereal and milk at his baby sister again? Making a big mess. Making her cry. Then making her fling her spoon of oatmeal right back. I feel like I'm on my hands and knees cleaning the floor all day long. All day long. Is this how Cinderella felt? So sad. Well, yesterday Cashlin told me that I'm "rude" and today I'm "an angry mommy." Hopefully, one day he'll realize that he's the rude little bugger that makes mommy so angry. (That's meant with so much love though. ha ha haaaaaaaa)

2010-01-22T09:08:00.000-08:00

I felt like a guilty alcoholic this morning. Someone with an addiction. Someone who needs to hide something. Something?? My addiction to food. Sweets. Chocolate. Carbs. Oh my god. Yesterday I made homemade cinnamon and raisin bread. As soon as my bread maker beeped, I took it out. The smell is heavenly. I cut thick slices and lathered them in butter. I was so happy. My happiness continued most of the day while I pretty much finished off that whole loaf of bread. 2 lbs - just so you know. 2 lbs of bread in my tummy. 2 lbs of bread spreading to my ass. Not to mention all the melted butter that went along with it. After making a frozen lasagna last night for dinner and garlic bread, I began to feel a little uncomfortable. Okay, a lot uncomfortable. So much so that I went into Cashlin's room and hid under his covers in his racecar bed. I thought I was going to die. Or at least, I wanted to die. The pain down below was really unbearable. Why do I do this to myself?? Do I need to commit myself to a program?? Jenny Craig. Weight Watchers. No, I am not a sex addict like Tiger Woods. I am a food addict. Food. Food. Food. And just to be completely honest, I had a big bowl of Chocolate Malted Crunch ice cream while watching "Grey's Anatomy" last night too. It didn't matter that I thought I was going to explode. I needed to have my ice cream. So to get back to my point about feeling like an alcoholic...I took out a plastic bag this morning and filled it with all my loot. All my favorite foods -- the last piece of cinnamon raisin bread, the leftover lasagna and tortellini, the tub of Chocolate Malted Crunch, the Oreos, Sour Cream & Onion chips, the chocolate chip cookie dough, the last stick of Twix in the fridge, the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup in the shape of a heart I had just bought for Valentine's Day and the movie theater butter popcorn in the cupboard. I took this bag to the trash bin in the yard because I knew if I threw it in the trash can in the kitchen that I would most likely dig it out later in the day. I had to get rid of it all. I even threw a couple of Ava's poopy diapers on top just to make sure my shit was gone for good. Hopefully my body will thank me later. As for now, I'm hurting.

2010-01-18T07:58:00.000-08:00

Why do men lie? Why do men keep secrets? And if you find out about a lie, even if it's a small lie, does that mean your man is lying about a lot of other shit as well? Even bigger stuff -- like another woman??? ... I tell Cowboy everything. Every thing. From when I stub my toe to burning the rice for dinner to accidently hitting Ava's head on the wall while carrying her. I tell him all my news for the day. So when I asked him on the phone last Friday if he worked out that day, I simply thought he'd say yes or no. "No" is what he did reply. You see, I've been feeling bad for him because I know hitting the gym is important to him, and he hasn't had the chance to go lately. I was asking because I'm a caring wife. Because I know if he had worked out, he'd most likely be in better spirits. Of course, that makes me happy. On Saturday I attended a baby shower for a woman whose husband works with Cowboy. While sitting at my table, another acquaintance I know through his work asked if my husband, my Cowboy, was feeling better. She said her husband said he turned green yesterday at the gym and they were worried about him. Hhmmm. Really?? Green?? The gym?? Very fucking interesting. "Well," I replied, "he certainly isn't green anymore." A few hours later, I confronted my dear hubby love and surprise surprise! He told me, "Oh, I just must have forgotten. I have sooooo much on my mind." OH. OKAY. Not only do I hate this excuse, which I've heard many many times, but I also find it rather insulting. He has SO much on his mind. God, I must be completely retarded. I am a thoughtless, brainless woman. Hmmm. A few years ago, I would have gotten really really mad. Just the thought of him lying to me, or I guess I should say "forgetting" something, would totally piss me off. Now I don't even have the time for it. I don't have the energy to get mad at a 38 year old man who can't tell his wife he did go to the gym a few hours ago and also felt sick. (Who forgets that, by the way???) It's completely annoying and frustrating. I care enough to blog about it but not enough to fight about it. He's just lost a few hundred points in my book. Ass. (And what's the point of him not telling me anyways? Because now I'll know he's not sweating over a desk trying to sell keyboard trays but instead is pumping iron??)

2010-01-07T18:10:00.000-08:00

The problem with the holidays is all the damn food we eat. We or I?? Well, definitely ME. I have a problem. And the problem is...I LOVE food. Love it. Love it. When I start eating a lot, that's all I find myself thinking about -- FOOD. When am I going to eat next?? What am I going to eat next?? Last week I went to McDonalds. It was the first time I've eaten there in a very long time (okay, maybe not that long), and since my visit, that's all I think about. McDonalds. French fries. Two cheeseburgers. Yes, two. Not one. Nope. Not me. That's only for little kids. HA HA. Fast food and chocolates are like drugs. You eat one bite and you want more and more and more. After my stop at McDonalds, I totally craved In & Out Burger. Um, yes, the ultimate burger. Divine. Double double no doubt. Onions, of course. Which brings me to tonight. Tonight I took Cashlin and Ava to somewhere new. Well, uh, new to them, I mean. Jack in the Box. Otherwise known as Jack in the Crack. I ordered them kid's meals and couldn't decide for myself. I really really wanted a Sourdough Jack. Oh my god, I can remember days when I was so hungover and a Sourdough Jack would make it all better. I don't know why. It just did. I swear. Okay, but I didn't order one. Instead I ordered two tacos for .99 and a chicken fajita pita. I don't know what they put in these tacos, but they are yummilicious. I love these tacos, and I would have just ordered one -- but shit, it's two for .99. I mean, come on! I had to get two. And then, on the way home, I scarfed both of them down before hitting our street. WTF??!! I'm out of control! Then when I sat at the table with Cashlin and Ava, I didn't feel so bad eating my dinner because they only witnessed me eating one chicken pita -- not one pita and two tacos!! If I continue on this path, what's going to happen to me????? (At least I didn't order the Oreo shake, right?? I really wanted one of those too!!)

2009-12-15T09:18:00.000-08:00

There are moments when I love my husband so much, I can barely breathe. There are moments when I just love my husband. Always love him. Then there are moments when he's just okay. Like a cool friend. But then...then there are moments when I really dislike him. When I think he's gross, and I think he's yucky. Not to mention smelly. There are moments when I am so damn annoyed with him too. I know that Cowboy and I have different roles. Sometimes our roles overlap, but usually they go something like this... Cowboy goes to work five days a week. I, on the other hand, take care of our children. Cook. Clean the house, dishes, yard & garage. Do laundry. Fill & empty the dishwasher. Take out the trash and even the containers on trash day. Grocery shop. Run all household errands including taking Cowboy's clothes (not mine) to and from the cleaners. My job is seven days a week. 24/7. So is it too much to ask that my husband take his bowl of oatmeal to the sink and run hot water in it? Must I find the bowl sitting on the counter and then have to scrub scrub scrub the dried oatmeal off it? I mean, really?? Must I? Do I have the word MAID tattooed on my forehead? Has he forgotten that we have a dishwasher?? The other day he finished lunch and left his plate on the table. I'm sorry, are we in a restaurant?? Is the word WAITRESS stamped on my face?? Where the fuck is it?? Please tell me, so I can smear it off!! For the most part, I'm used to doing my part. But let's get one thing straight -- my "part" is WAY bigger than his. And those small things do matter.

2009-12-10T22:04:00.000-08:00

There's something about the smell of Cashlin that is so heavenly. I love his smell. Love it. I used to love the smell of Cowboy (well, I still do), but I most definitely prefer the scent of my little boy. I find it comforting like a french fries from McDonalds or a warm double chocolate brownie. Yummmmmmm. I can't even describe his smell really. I don't know if it's a mixture of laundry detergent and body odor. (Do 3 year olds have body odor??) Whatever it is, it's so sweet. It's calming and funny enough, it makes me feel safe. Is that weird? Late every night I go into his room to make sure he's covered and warm. I snuggle up beside him in his racecar bed. I put my nose right into his neck...right by his ear...right by his cheek. I kiss him. I sniff him. I hold him. And at this moment, life feels so right. I think this is my most favorite time with Cashlin -- when he's sleeping. (ha ha) He looks like a gorgeous angel. So peaceful. So darling. And he smells so delicious.

2009-12-03T18:31:00.000-08:00

Ever since Cashlin was one, he's been a bad pooper. Bad in the sense that he just doesn't like to go. Now that he communicates so well verbally, he's usually yelling, "I don't want to poop! I hate pooping! My butt hurts!" (I'm thinking I might need to take him to a butt doctor. Could my child have a very very small butthole?? Why is it always so painful?? Could he possibly need surgery??) Yes, he's potty trained. He pees like a champion -- in the toilet and in our backyard...and sometimes outside mommy's car if I can't find a bathroom. (is that bad??) But when it comes to poop, I usually have to take him to the toilet. Ah yes, there has been a handful of times he's told me he has to poop. Beautiful, happy moments those are. All the rest of the time, it's me knowing he has to go...whether he's doing the potty dance, hiding on me or running around the house like a wild wild child. I can read him so well. I tell him, "Cashlin, your mommy knows everything! I KNOW you have to poop!" And when I say I take him to the potty, I mean I'm dragging him by one arm or carrying him over my shoulder. One time he even slapped me across the face because he was so mad. Let me tell you, I was one pissed mommy. Cashlin's newest thing is getting either Cowboy or I to count to ten. By ten, poop would be floating in the bowl. Just yesterday he decided to switch this on us. He told Cowboy, "Daddy, I want you to count the other way because poop goes down." I was in the kitchen and heard him say this. I was laughing hysterically. Cowboy replied, "Poop does go down, doesn't it?? Well, we better count backwards from now on." ... Okay, so I'm just really happy he shits in a toilet and not a diaper anymore. But please god let this phase pass soon. :)

2009-11-19T14:37:00.000-08:00

My family has always labeled me a bad driver. I am not a bad driver. I am an aggressive driver. Does that make me bad?? Bad are the people driving 20 mph and holding everyone up. Bad are the drivers who can't see over their steering wheel -- like all the ancient people who should have their license revoked. Bad are drivers who get on the freeway and accelerate like inchworms making everyone swerve around them. Listen, the list is long...the point is, I am NOT bad. And, actually, since having two little ones in the car with me, I wouldn't even say I'm that aggressive anymore. But yesterday I had the biggest scare in my life. I got in the car with a crazy ass driver from Enterprise. A woman. A young woman. Who seriously almost killed me and my children. She only had to drive us less than two blocks away to the VW dealership where my car was being worked on, AND SHE WAS BAD. She pulled out of the lot without even stopping. I doubt she even looked both ways. She crossed right over into traffic with a multitude of cars coming from both sides. Now this wouldn't have been so bad if there was an "oh shit" lane in the middle for her to get into and stop -- but there wasn't!! She turned into a left hand turning lane with cars coming right at us. Their blinkers on and everything!! Horns started honking. Horns plural!! And then I realized she was attempting to get over three lanes of traffic so she could make a right. I couldn't believe it. I was scared to death. Thank god she finally realized that wasn't going to happen. There were too many cars coming up behind us. So she got over one lane and went straight instead. Crossing over the light and cutting off a bunch of cars. And do you know what she said?? "These people are the reason we are in business. All these bad drivers." My eyes were wide. My heart was pounding. I was speechless. Of course, today, I am mad at myself for not saying anything. For thanking her for the ride back which almost got us killed. For being oblivious to the fact that she was putting my life and the life of my babies in danger. Oh my gosh, I am so angry right now.

2009-11-06T14:05:00.000-08:00

Other than Cowboy, no other man has seen my snatch in over ten years. Ten years! That's a long time -- especially in vagina years. They change. Oh, yes they do. Even though I haven't given birth vaginally, mine still is different. It's no longer sweet, pink and delicate looking like Ava's. Umm, no. It's a 33 year old vagina. Not ugly. Not loose. Just different. Since my early teen years, I have always checked out my crotch. I'd climb onto my bathroom counter, spread my legs and investigate. I don't know if this is strange behavior. All I know is, the vagina is one crazy ass place. There's a lot going on. Many folds. Different colors. Secret hiding spots. And yes, it's ever changing. So, to get back to my point, this past week I had an appointment with a male gynecologist. I was referred to this doctor, and I'll be honest, I was a little hesitant in making my appointment. Why? Because he's a man. A relatively young man and a pretty good looking one too. I checked out his picture online and started laughing to myself. Did I really want this young, attractive doctor going down on me??? Well, you know what I mean. Look, I know they're doctors. I know they're professional. I know they've seen a lot of va-ja-jas. BUT they're MEN. There has to be one teeny teeny part of their brain (or their dick) that gets excited when they have an attractive patient's beaver facing them. They must. And maybe not all of them, but there has to be some. And I'm sure there are others who are so sick of seeing vaginas all day long. See, the problem is, these thoughts bother me. They bother me and make me extremely immature and self-conscious. So instead of being a normal patient during an exam (one who is quiet or maybe chatters about the weather), I, on the other hand, am perspiring all over, giggling out of control and slowly inching my ass back up the table. My doctor actually stopped, put his gloved hand on my lower hip and asked me to scoot down. TWICE! Now I know I should feel more comfortable with a female nurse in the room, but I'm not. Because instead of having two eyes staring at my wonderland, there's now four. The whole time I'm laying there, my mind is racing. Did I shave enough? Did I shave too much? Is my ass hairy? What does it look like from their angle? What does it look like compared to other 33 year old vaginas? Is it pretty? Is it beautiful? Does it smell good? Do my legs look fat? Does my ass look huge? What do I do if I have to suddenly pee? What if I can't hold it? Needless to say, I survived my appointment. I only wish I had a friend who was a gyno. I'd get him drunk and pick at his brain until he admitted his secret liking of the world of vaginas. Because what kind of man would want to be a gyno unless he loved pussy??

2009-11-03T07:34:00.000-08:00

I did a very sinful thing last night. Late last night. I crept into the kitchen. Headed straight to the cupboard where I keep Cashlin's stash of Halloween candy. A huge bucket of candy. I meant to ask Cowboy yesterday to hide it. No, not from Cashlin but from me. ME. I am the one who keeps stealing chocolates out of it. I sneak around. Silently removing wrappers of my favorite chocolate bars. Last night I ate three Snickers (not the size made for midgets), one Kit Kat, two Twix bars and a teeny Tootsie Roll. Mind you, this was all in a matter of minutes. I didn't want Cowboy finding me in the kitchen stuffing my face. Instead I took my loot to the bathroom, shut the door and turned the water on. As I was getting ready to wash my face, I jammed all the chocolate down my throat. This morning I am disgusted with myself. How much candy does one need to eat before their ass doubles in size?? Hhmm. I just want to admit one more thing. Because maybe if I get it out there, I'll feel better about myself. Before eating all this candy, I ate three Rice Krispy treats after dinner. Cowboy had one, and I had one. Then minutes later that's all my brain could think about. Rice Krispy treats. Rice Krispy treats. Yum. Yum. I actually told myself to eat the last two. Here were my thoughts...I already ate one. I might as well finish the box and this way, I wouldn't be tempted to eat any tomorrow. Tomorrow I will eat healthy. Well, today is tomorrow, and I still wish Cowboy hid the candy basket. Even though I am presently disgusted with myself, I fear I have no will power. Maybe I will ask Cashlin to hide it. ha ha ha

2009-10-20T21:54:00.001-07:00

I've been crying a lot lately. I'm not sure why. I'm guessing my hormones are completely out of whack. Something must be wrong when I'm crying while watching The Proposal last night and crying during The Little Mermaid this afternoon. Hhmm. Strange. On a lighter note, I think Ryan Reynolds is a hunk hunk hunk. Super hottie hunk. Definitely got the hots for him. And on an even lighter note, Cashlin's been hilarious lately..."Mommy, do mermaids have boobs?"..."Mommy, I like your eye shadow"...(he notices more about me than Cowboy)..."Mommy, I don't like her hair"...(in reference to one of his soccer coaches)..."Momma, I like playing Pretty Princess with Nana"...(I'm sure Cowboy would love to hear that one). Today I took Cashlin and Ava to a pumpkin patch nearby. Shockingly he wanted to go on the very HIGH bouncy slide. I gave the guy the one ticket and watched my three year old climb on all fours up up up to the top of this slide. I could barely see him because of the netting. Then I saw this little body come tumbling down. TUMBLING DOWN. Rolling like in a cartoon. I thought to myself, I must be the dumbest mother in history. I actually thought my little kid could climb to the top of this sky high slide and...well, just slide down. A kid who doesn't even go down the toddler slides at the park. What the hell was I thinking??? So so sad. Cashlin was crying out of control, yelling that he doesn't want to go on another slide and to take him home. Take him home. Oh my god. My child was scared shitless. I've now scarred him for life. I feel like the worst mom ever. How did I try to make up for it?? I let him stay up late tonight watching tv with me and eating raisinets. Now he's passed out in the middle of our bed. I hope he can forgive me.

2009-10-18T19:05:00.001-07:00

For the last few months I've been going crazy. Completely obsessing over WHEN I'll get pregnant, IF I'll get pregnant...even HOW I'll get pregnant. :) The sad part is in the last six months, I've ovulated twice. Twice. Two times. And honestly, I don't even know exactly when. All I know is my period came...and I thought holy shit, I ovulated. When??? Apparently the dose of Clomid I'm on now still isn't the right one. The estrogen patch...well, I'm still wearing it. I've even got progesterone suppositories in the fridge just in case. (I know, suppositories. Fun. Fun.) But that's not all. No. No it isn't. I take my temperature every morning with not just one thermometer but two. I like to be accurate, you see. So I have both a glass and digital basal body thermometer. After taking my temperature I rush to the kitchen to make Ava a bottle...then I rush to the bathroom to pee in a cup. Dip my ovulation predictor stick inside and wait. Wait. Wait. And nothing happens. The test is always negative. Always. Just one purple line appears. It's very depressing actually. I guess the best part about babymaking would be the sex. Yes, I'm having sex. A lot of it. I would say I'm seeping with semen. Daily. (How's that for a visual??) And the sex is great though sometimes more of a chore than lusty spontaneous raunchy dirty sex. It's "let's get to the point, we're trying to make a baby" sex. That's not bad to admit, is it? Hhmm. I'm trying to be patient. Trying to be patient. Patient. Cowboy said all this work we're going through is going to make an awesome kid. Well, I hope so...because I honestly feel like I'm going crazy.

2009-10-07T15:55:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure I've given birth to the two most stubborn children ever! I wonder if every mother thinks this....because my little ones, well, are absolute 'lil devils. Cashlin's getting worse the older he gets, which is strange because I thought the "terrible twos" were over. Oh, and Ava's learning all her dirty tricks from her big bro. She's worse than he ever was -- and she's only seventeen months! Everything is a big fight. Every. Thing. Even when I know Cashlin deep down wants to do something or eat something I tell him to do or eat, he protests. He stomps his feet. Then Ava attempts to stomp her pudgy feet. He YELLS. SCREAMS. Throws objects (which angers me the most). Then before I know it, the two of them are having a scream-off. Cashlin, of course, being the loudest. He just might be the most dramatic boy in the world. Sometimes I'm even concerned about him and all his crazy antics and peculiarites. The way he has to have things just so. ... Lately all I hear is "Gimme this...Gimme this...Gimme that." And sometimes I really just want to give in, so he'll shut up. So I won't have to hear him any longer. So my ears will stop ringing. But then I get angry. I don't want to be pushed around by my three year old who wants everything. Even when I correct him and tell him how to ask for something politely, he still won't. He insists on demanding things his way. The rude way. Or is that just what little kids do? Why can't he just be sweet and repeat after me: "Can I have McDonalds please?" or "Will you take me to the park please?" Instead he'll say, "Gimme Old McDonalds (he confuses the song with the restaurant) NOW or I'll smack you with my sword." Yes, he says this. I swear to god. And we don't even smack him (yet), so he doesn't learn this behavior from us. Maybe I should blame it on tv. Hmmm. I realized the other day that I am not the most patient mother in the world. I don't find it cute or laugh when my children run from me in Target. Or when I'm trying to get Cashlin dressed, and he makes a dash for the door. The other day in Stride Rite, Cashlin ran out with a bucket of hair clips while I was paying for some socks. Ava ran out following him. I put my stearnest face on and mouthed the words "GET OVER HERE NOW." He just laughed and ran around in circles. Ava just kept running. Umm, I'm sorry, but this totally pissed me off. I was embarrassed that my child shop lifts (ha ha) and worried that my other kid would be kidnapped. I ended up dropping my wallet and all my change fell out. That's when I stop to think -- do I really want another baby?? I don't think I'll ever leave the house. Oh, and by the way, all the mothers in the store were looking at me like I was a freak mom. Fuck. I don't want to be a freak mother. I don't want to be an impatient mother. I want to be sweet, understanding, forgiving and always always calm. Is this possible? Tell me, is it? Because every night I go to bed and think about how I want the next day to be better. How I want to do or say something differently. How I'm going to LOVE my dear children from the moment they wake (which is the crack of dawn) till the moment they drop at night, but I'm finding this almost near impossible. Okay, okay, you know the love is there. It's just some moments I want to scream too!!!!!!! (Like today when Ava pooped on Cashlin's floor. She was only diaperless for 35 seconds!)

2009-09-30T19:30:00.000-07:00

I stare in amazement at Cashlin and Ava. My two little beautiful babies. They are growing so fast like tiny weeds. Today in the car, I turned to look at Ava. There she was -- her long legs dangling from her car seat. When did that happen?? She used to look like a mini Buddha sitting in her chair. Now she's a big girl. A big girl who's already wearing a size 6 shoe. It's wild how lil' ones just keep growing. Right before your eyes. Their legs. Their feet. Their sweet hands. Their precious faces. It drives me crazy. ... Earlier today Cashlin asked me (while sitting on the potty), "Momma, what did I look like when I came from your tummy? What was I doing?" I could've cried. Actually, I think I almost did. This is the same kid who yelled, "Thanks taco guy!" when we left Taco Bell today. I tried hard not to laugh. I really did. I tried. ... Sometimes I let Ava beat up on Cashlin. Not bad. Just a little. He's always taking her things. Always charging at her and pushing her over. Never sharing. Usually making her cry. Sometimes I just feel so awful for her. So when she manages to grab a fistful of his hair, I don't run over right away. I laugh to myself and hide my secret smile. Then I look disapprovingly at Ava and try to open the tightest clench ever. Does that make me a bad mommy??

2009-09-10T21:34:00.000-07:00

Why are Vampires incredibly sexy? Is it because they stare straight into your soul? Because they're extremely powerful? Because they're immortal? They drink blood? They're mysterious? Charming? Passionate? I watched "The Vampire Diaries" tonight. I was completely enthralled in every minute. Mesmerized. Yes, I'm now sucked into a new show...but my goodness, this one is absolutely delicious. Stefan Salvatore, the lead Vampire, is one hottie. HOTTIE. YUM. YUMMMMMM. His face, those dark eyes, are heavenly. Well, maybe not heaven-ly. (Even his name reeks of sex.) Of course, he's that typical bad vampire gone good. The one who doesn't suck the blood of a human. Yet, the one YOU want to devour. The one YOU watch on television. The one YOU wish fell in love with YOU. Hmmm. Okay, okay, the YOU is ME. ME. Why do I always fall for these divine Vampire babes? Why do I feel like I can spend an eternity looking at that gorgeous face? Those gorgeous eyes. Yes, you can suck my blood. In fact, you can take a big bite out of my neck. Go ahead. Sink those marvelous teeth in. Bite ME. Bite ME. Drink from me. And make me yours forever, you sexy beast you. ... Okay, back to reality. Now I have to wipe the drool off my TV.

2009-08-31T14:26:00.000-07:00

Two reasons men can't be left with small children. (Okay, not men just my man.) #1. I was sitting in Cashlin's bathroom persuading him to poop. This sometimes takes up to a half hour of me just sitting with him. Rubbing his back. Reading to him. Wiping pee off my leg because he forgets to point the cutest penis in the world down. Eventually, he does go. Thank god. But while waiting on Saturday morning, I heard water running...running...and running. I finally open the door, ready to yell at Cowboy for forgetting water costs money AND there's a water shortage, when I realize HE'S in the den on the phone. Then who the hell turned the water on?? Oh yea, our other child that he failed to watch. Little Ava climbed up on the tub in our bathroom. Then climbed from there to the bathroom counter at which time she decided to turn the sink on. Hot water, of course. And there she is -- just standing on top of the counter!! With toothpaste in one hand and my blush brush in the other. Water running. She could've easily burned herself. Easily fallen and broken a bone or worse. Needless to say, I was not a happy mommy. #2. A few hours later, I left Cowboy to work out in the garage. I was in there...ummm...maybe 30 min before I came back in to guzzle down water and throw the laundry in the dryer. And guess who was there. Right by the door. Little Miss Ava again. But this time, she had the dishwasher soap. She was sitting right next to the washer with Cascade between her legs. Soap all over the floor. It looked like she'd been fingerpainting the detergent everywhere. I'm sure those fingers ended up in her mouth a few times too. Hmmm....where is Daddy you wonder?? Oh -- on the phone again!! In the den with the tv on and Cashlin pouncing around like a tiger. Needless to say, this time I was a very bitchy mommy. ... That night in bed I lay awake. I couldn't stop thinking about all the terrible, horrible things that could've happened to Ava. All in one day. I just couldn't believe it. There's so much worry that goes along with being a parent -- and NOW I have to worry when they're with their own father too! I just can't take it!

2009-08-26T13:38:00.000-07:00

I just read online that women in their early thirties have a 15% chance every month of getting pregnant. You know my mom always says that I should read more....but I swear, reading more can cause anxiety!! Since Cowboy and I decided to start trying again, that's all I've been doing. Reading. Reading. Reading. Mostly online and in my fav fertility book, Taking Charge of Your Fertility. But my head just gets all muddled up. It's crazy with thoughts, percentages and facts. Then I get annoyed at myself. I have two babies. I should feel confident. Comfortable. I should believe that making another baby WILL happen -- except I don't. I always have doubts. I always worry. Here I am reading again about sperm and their motility...reading about which positions deposit the little spermies as close to the goal as possible...reading about ovulation sticks (how they work, when it's best to test & when to have sex)...reading about how Clomid works and now about the estrogen patch I'm wearing...blah blah blah! So today after reading I have a 15% of pregnancy a month, I just felt depressed. 15% sounds like nothing -- doesn't it?? What the hell!! And if I wait two more years, it drops to 10%. Oh my goodness! Talk about stress and pressure! It's awful. I try to remain positive and happy, but it's hard. I get sad and think what if it never happens again???????

2009-08-15T15:01:00.000-07:00

Before I delivered Ava, I went to Macy's and bought a bunch of panties. Actually, I wouldn't even call them panties. Panties are sweet. Small. Sexy. Satin. Or cotton but cute. G-string. What I bought was more like underwear my grams would wear. Grandma undies. Big. Full butt. Full coverage. Yikes! It's so awesome and beautiful being pregnant. Then you're nine months pregnant ... then you deliver ... then you feel fat. Well, okay, how about just large? Larger. Everything's bigger. Tummy. Hips. Boobs. Butt. Thighs. Arms. Definitely well-rounded now. Hhmmm. I wasn't prepared after having Cashlin. I didn't have all those essential girly things...like pads. Ugh. Huge undies. Sooooo, I wanted to have everything I needed after having Ava. I went to the mall and bought two handfuls of undies. All cotton. All size LARGE. All covering my butt - big time! Anyways, Ava's getting into everything these days. Ev-ery-thing! She's taller and can reach higher places. Somehow yesterday she managed to open one of my dresser drawers and came running down the hall...with...yes, my granny panties. Three pairs to be exact. I saw these undies for the first time in a long time and almost died. Was my ass really that huge after having Ava?? Oh my god. Oh. My. God. I was embarrassed just seeing them. But I was even more embarrassed when Cowboy asked, "What the hell are those???" And when I picked up a pair, he looked shocked. "Who do those belong to???" He was disgusted. So. Was. I.

2009-08-10T13:43:00.000-07:00

I always cry at weddings. ... Or at least I do now ever since being in love with Cowboy. I just love weddings. Well, not all weddings. Some are rather shitty, but most are simply beautiful and romantic. This past weekend, Cowboy and I went to Chicago for the loveliest wedding. It was small. Only about 60 guests. Very intimate which I greatly liked. Ceremony and reception held in a dark wood room. Huge wood chandeliers hanging. An enormous stain glass window on one wall. Tall white candles glistening everywhere. Gorgeous vases filled with water and white roses. Stunning. Elegant. With violinists playing in the corner. My my. I felt like I was in King Arthur's castle. Very cool. When dinner was served, everyone was seated at one very long table. Cowboy and I sat at the far right of the bride and groom. We were completely enamoured by this superb affair. ... So to get back to my point -- I cried when the bride and groom took their vows. Actually I only cried when the bride said hers. Her voice started to falter and crack. I thought, uh oh, my eyes are going to tear up. Sure enough, they did. I quickly tried to catch my tears before they smudged my makeup. I looked up at the ceiling while dabbing my eyes. Started to giggle. Looked over at Cowboy and caught his eye. Went in for a quick smooch. Sometimes I can't believe we were married almost five years ago. Where does the time go? Too quickly. I remember that day like it was yesterday, and I soooo soooo wish I could live that day all over again. It was the best day of my life. And I think from now on, I'll always be that girl who cries at weddings. Hmmm...at least the good ones. :)

2009-08-01T12:29:00.001-07:00

Potty training a child is like potty training a puppy. I don't even have a dog, but if I did, I swear I'd be doing the same thing. Or even if it was a cat. You want your animal to shit in it's certain area. Same with your kid. I've been hardcore potty training Cashlin the last few weeks. I decided I was done with diapers. Like full-on done. No more. I was not going to by another XL box of diapers. This kid, my kid, was going to learn when and how to poop and pee -- even if that meant a few accidents along the way. Now yes, we've had accidents. Quite a few actually. And that's okay. But I'm still determined to teach him... not put him back in a diaper. Cleaning up his poop all over the bathroom floor and the rim of the toilet was terribly, terribly disgusting. But I dealt with it. Soaking up his puddles of pee both in his bedroom and in the den...well, haven't been so bad. Kind of grosses me out but whatever. I'm over it. I've grabbed Cashlin, literally grabbed him, and taken him to the toilet. I've pointed. Arm stretched. Finger shooting into the bowl. "THIS IS WHERE YOU POOP AND PEE!! HERE!!" Now I'm pretty positive this is what I'd do if I had a puppy. And sooner or later, my puppy would get it. That's what I expect from Cashlin and so far, he's doing a great job. I'm proud of him. Super proud of him. He's even peed in public bathrooms. This is a ginormous milestone. For us. For him. He still seems frightened to poop on his own, but I'm forcing him to sit and to go. I don't care how red he gets. I don't care how much he yells. He can't hold it for long and this I now know. He eventually will go and will feel better. And soon, hopefully very soon, he will realize that pooping is a good thing. A great thing. And he will go all on his own. And then Momma will rejoice for that will be the greatest day in history.

2009-07-19T17:56:00.000-07:00

Shaving legs. What I like least about summertime?? Having to shave my...mmm...everywhere actually! My whole body! What don't I shave? Underarms. Bikini line. Legs. Top of my big toes and a tiny patch on each foot. And that doesn't include the time I spend waxing above my lip, my eyebrows and the space in between them. Sometimes I can't believe how much time I spend grooming myself. And then I think about the BIG picture -- I've got a long lifetime of shaving ahead of me. It's ridiculous. I guess it's just one of those things we shouldn't think about. It's just one of the (many) things women do. Or have to do if we want to feel pretty and sexy. Why bother wasting time thinking about it. Dreading it. Counting the minutes in the shower. Sometimes I just wish I could laser off all my body hair. Well, I mean the hair that I shave. I wish I never had to worry about it again. And if this was a cheap and easy process, I would do it in a heart beat. I hate hair. Including the hair on my head! I get so grossed out by hair on the bathroom floor. Hair clogging up the shower drain. Ugh! Last weekend I got my hair cut (again). This time even shorter. I wanted to go completely boy short, but my hair dresser talked me out of it. (probably a good thing.) I don't ever think it'll go past my shoulders again. Cowboy still loves short hair, thank god! ... Hair. Hair. Hair. Why do we have so much hair? And what if we lived in a world where we let it all grow out? Everywhere. Including our delicious little that. How gross would that be? Or wouldn't it? Maybe it would be a hell of a lot easier. Maybe the more hair you had, the sexier you were considered. Do you like this possibility??

2009-07-15T12:57:00.000-07:00

It took some time for me to get pregnant with Cashlin. About a year to be exact. I was very upset about it. It made me feel inadequate as a woman. I didn't like talking about it. Made me uncomfortable. It gave me anxiety. Made me mad. Depressed. Sad. Frustrated. Why couldn't I just get pregnant like all women do??? What the fuck is wrong with me?? Then I realized this is a problem many women have. Infertility. God, how I hate hearing that word. I started to read about it. Talk to other moms who also had difficulty. Then I didn't feel so bad. (I'm lying. I did.) It's nice to know you aren't alone, right?? ... So NOW, I am ready and excited for baby #3. I'm ready to make this Harrington Home even bigger. BIGGER. I want more crying. More whining. More fighting. More yelling. HA HA HA. I just want to be blessed with more babies. More beautiful babies to love. To cuddle. Squeeze. Smell. Kiss. And yell at. :) Anyways, I wanted to update you on my latest babymaking struggles. Three years ago, I wouldn't have talked about this one bit, but now I am over it. I'm not embarrassed any longer. I want other girls to know they aren't alone. :) My doctor has labeled me anovulatory. (Not the first time I've been called this, so don't feel bad. Don't get angry, it's okay. Really.) We decided to go straight to Clomid. No messin' around here! No time to waste! ... And here I am -- today is day 28 of my cycle. Day 28 and no ovulation yet. Nope. No sign of an egg anywhere. Tomorrow I'm going in for a little pelvic exam (i'm sure it will be enjoyable), and then I'm starting on a higher dosage of Clomid. 100mg. Hopefully this will do the trick, and then I will have a big party. An egg releasing party. :) So keep your fingers crossed. I will update you!!

2009-07-10T06:47:00.000-07:00

Facebook friends. Who are your Facebook friends?? Are they really friends? Are they actually acquaintances? Maybe some family that lives far? Or even close? Are they coworkers? People you went to high school or college with and haven't seen in years?? When I got on Facebook, I felt this immediate urgency to have a lot of friends. I loved seeing all their little pics. All their names. I was scrambling to find friends. Looking at people's friends that I knew (some more than others) and asking them to be my friend which, might I add, is so lame. I mean, really, think about it. I understand you have to ask people to be friends, to be allowed into their computer space, but it's so weird and so awkward and uncomfortable ... but maybe it's because a lot of these people aren't really friends?? My friends, I should say. Honestly, sometimes I get on Facebook and I read what's going on and I think, who the fuck are these people?? And then I get freaked out -- maybe they think that about me too?!?! Okay, there are people you may not know well, but you're interested in them. You want to know what they're up to. What life is like for them. You met them. You like them. You have some sort of connection with them and you care (and you know they care for you). BUT -- then there are people who you really don't give a shit about. People you haven't seen in forever. Do you really want to read their little blurbs?? Their daily updates?? Do you?? Do you really want to see their mobile pics?? I found myself reading my Home page and thinking, UGH -- I don't care about these people. In fact, I found it irritating. Seeing their pics and their little comments. So, I decided to clean house. I went through my friends and started X'ing people off. (Does anyone know, by the way, if they're notified or not?? I hope not.) It truly felt great! It felt awesome! And yes, I got a little sad because my number was diminishing ... but I'm just being retarded. You see, I'm that girl who didn't have a lot of friends in high school and who's excited to have many now .... but come on, I'm just fooling myself. A good majority of people on my list aren't really friends. They're friends of Cowboy. Some sorority sisters I COMPLETELY don't even remember, and the ones I do remember, I haven't talked to in over ten years!!!! Ten years people!! That's a long time! ... Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I will always be a private person. (Yes, I blog but am a private person at heart.) Maybe I just like (actually love) the very few friends I have. And my family - near and far. These are the people I want to know about. These are the people I want to be connected to. (Do I need Facebook for that??) Probably because these are the people I feel truly care for me and my family. I feel comfortable with these relationships. I know where I stand. ... Is it just me or does Facebook cause anxiety?? Maybe I just have total issues....

2009-07-09T13:23:00.000-07:00

I've completely given up on potty training Cashlin. I don't care. Not even the slightest bit. He's a huge kid at three wearing diapers, but it doesn't bother me. Every time I see the top of his diaper peeking out his shorts, I'm not embarrassed. Two days ago, I was at the Volkswagen dealership and a woman there asked how old he was. Then she started laughing and said, "You haven't potty trained him?? My son won't go either!!" And we both started laughing. I didn't know her, but I swear I felt like we had the hugest connection. When Cashlin's diaper is full, he'll run to his room and grab a new diaper. He'll toss it at me and yell, "Change me, Momma!" Sometimes I am annoyed. Sometimes I laugh. And sometimes I just shake my head. Oh well. Sooner or later, he will go on his own. On the potty. He will tell me and go. He has to...right?? I was so determined to train him before he turned three. It was all I thought about. But now?? -- my kid has no desire to use his Elmo chair or sit on the big potty. And I have no desire to fight with him every single day. Yes, fight. That's what we were doing. Acutally fighting. Me and my three year old. It was ridiculous and made my tummy hurt. Felt like my head would blow. My heart would burst. I'd get so mad. So frustrated. What the hell is wrong with him, I thought?? I wanted to yell to everyone I knew, "He really isn't slow or stupid! And it isn't my fault!! I'm really trying!" Then I just got annoyed with myself. Why do I have to worry about other people?? So what if my mother makes asinine comments every time I see her. Who cares?? NOT ME. (not me. not me. not me. I have to keep telling myself that.) Today I cut all Cashlin's hair off. It's super short. Not shaved but boy short. He almost looks like a girl to me. His face is so pretty. It's weird. And I know I've told you that he doesn't use a bottle to go to sleep anymore. So, yea! I've accomplished that. And yes, he's still sleeping in his crib. Never ever does he attempt to escape. I took him to see bunk beds and even a really cool car bed but no. He screamed in the store, "I LIKE my bed!!" Ummmm, okay. So let's see -- he loves wearing diapers still. He loves his crib. He loves his blankie (stinky stinky...he never lets me wash it). He loves the "Wonder Pets" and eating hot dogs. ...... oh my little boy. What are we going to do??

the moments i miss

2009-06-16T15:06:00.000-07:00

I watched "The Bachelorette" last night and found myself tearing up. Yes, I know, it is embarrassing to admit. But you know what I really love about this show?? -- it reminds me all about new love. Those new feelings of ..... aaaaaahhhhhh ..... giddiness, yumminess, infatuation, desire, lust, butterflies in your tummy, silliness, playfulness ..... That newness. That "I want you so bad" newness. God, I love that feeling. I miss that feeling. Is that horrible? Where has it gone? Shit. Okay, okay, it hasn't gone far. I don't want you to think I'm awful. I am terribly attracted to my husband. (well, at least, at certain times of certain days of the week...it totally depends really) But that feeling of "I wanna jump your bones right now" has kinda subsided. Sad, isn't it? I'd like to blame it on having children, but I kind of think it was gone a teeny weeny bit before then too. I was thinking last night about our first year together. Freakin' heavenly. Deliciously naughty. And fun. And free. And spontaneous. Yes, those were good times. I remember surprising him with tickets to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Oh jesus. That was insane. The best three days of my life. Wild sex. A lot of alcohol. A lot of drugs. No sleep. Barely any clothes. Was that even ME? Who was that girl? Cowboy brought out a naughty side in me. Or maybe it was there all along. I don't know. But I like when she appears. She's fun. She's daring. She doesn't give a shit. ha ha That's funny. Hhhhmmm.... but I do miss those moments. When it was just us. When I swear all I thought about was him. Every single second of every day. When I would count the hours till he got home. When I craved his touch. His smell. How I loved to bury my face in his chest or cuddle up in his arms. The only thing that mattered to me was him. The whole world could've fallen apart. I didn't care. As long as I had him. ... Now I think of him and smile. He's such a man now. So changed. (well, for the most part...still need to work on a few issues) Such an amazing father. A loving husband. A great best friend. (as great as he could be for a man, I guess) I think all that lust turned into deep love. Deep deep love. Devotion. Foreverness. Foreverness is very romantic but can also be boring. I think I'm going to have to bust open my lingerie drawer. Spice it up a bit. Hopefully I can peel off those cobwebs covering the drawer and knob....and fit in what's inside. Look out Cowboy. Can't wait for you to get home from Chicago.

2009-06-13T20:09:00.000-07:00

Cowboy left this morning for Chicago. At first I wasn't sad to see him go. (3 reasons why: #1. Last night he left the garage door open all night. Lame ass. #2. He spilled his tea in the sink before going to bed. Now the sink is beige instead of white. Hate that. And #3. He finished my box of Frosted Mini-Wheats this morning. Yes, the Mini-Wheats are mine, and he knows it. I seriously crave those things in the morning. That frosted shit is addictive. It's ridiculous. Besides, he's got the Cheerios and has a lot of nerve stealing my last bowl! Errrrr!) I was actually rushing him out of the house today. It felt like the longest morning. The longest good bye. Waiting. Watching him pack. Shave. Shower. ... But then I did get sad. The house felt empty. Quiet. I tried to pretend that it really wasn't Saturday. It was Monday. It was a work day. Cowboy just went to work. But -- no. That didn't work. I couldn't fool myself. It was Saturday. And I was lonely. I know, I know. Don't ask me how. It wasn't like I was alone. My two little critters were right next to me. Cashlin building blocks. Ava laughing hysterically every time his blocks fell over. It was cute. Thirty minutes after Cowboy left, I turned to Cashlin. I said, "Cash, Momma's sad." He, of course, asked why, and I told him I missed Daddy. Then my sweet sweet son reassured me by saying, "I'll take care of you, Mommy." I couldn't believe it. Did he really just say that?? That had to be the most touching thing he's said to me in a very long time. Usually he just screams the words, "NO! NO! NO!" at me. Wow. My eyes literally welled up. I fell in love with my little boy all over again. He's my new man of the house. My little sweet pea.

doctor says so

2009-05-31T13:50:00.000-07:00

I stood my ground this weekend. Friday. As a mom. I told Cashlin and Ava just how things are going to be. After seeing their doctor in the morning, I was motivated. No more feeling bad. No more waiting. No more putting it off. Things are going to change around here. Yep, that's what I told them. I looked Cashlin in the eye and said, "You are going to go POOP in your potty chair. YES YOU ARE." I went into his bedroom and cleaned his changing table off. "This table is outta here!!" I yelled. I can't even believe it took me this long. The kid hangs off the table completely -- legs dangling. He's always mad at me because I hit his head on the edge. Well, I don't mean to. He's just to big for the damn thing. HE'S THREE! I dragged the table out of his room while Cashlin just stood there. Staring. Eyes big. Then he started to do that pouty lip maneuver. The one he's always done since he was a newborn. Somehow his mouth literally turns upside down. Then his bottom lip starts to quiver. Then his mouth slowly opens and lets out the most horrendous howl ever. BUT this didn't stop me. He is such an actor. I just don't buy it. Nor do I care. Not this time. "Sorry, Cashlin, the table is OUT." Then I ran to the kitchen. Whipped open the cupboard and grabbed all the bottles stuffed on the second shelf. "These are outta here too!" Now both Ava and Cashlin started to cry. "NO! NO! NO! You heard your doctor. Bottles are for babies, and you guys aren't babies anymore." (She did say this, but to me, they will always be MY babies....just big babies, I guess.) Ava looked at me with fear. Probably thinking oh god, my mother is going MAD. And I was. It was time to step it up. I couldn't possibly allow Cash to go to bed one more night with a bottle in his hand. I know. I know exactly what you're thinking. You probably can't even believe my three year old goes to bed with a bottle still. (He just turned three for whatever it's worth.) I don't know how it happened. I tried to make him quit. Many times, I think. I just couldn't do it. He couldn't do it. But when their doctor said to me, "You must be so happy. No more bottles in your house and only one little butt to clean," my heart sank. How embarrassing. Yea, right. Make that two butts to clean. Still. And man, am I tired of cleaning Cashlin's ass. Cowboy won't even do it anymore. If Cashlin poops, he tells him, "I'm not going to change you. Sit in your poop then. You need to go on Elmo." He thinks this will make him go to his potty. I don't think so. (I promise you, we aren't mean parents.) It's just time. It's time Cash poops in his potty. It's time he brushes his teeth. (God, we suck at this. Still only once a day. SHIT!) It's time he goes to bed without a bottle. (Is a blankie still okay??) It's time we wash his hair more than once a week. (AAAAHHHH!!!) And Ava...well, Ava has to start getting her six jagged teeth cleaned too. She has to drink milk from a cup. And yes, I will still clean her little tush and love doing it. (The cutest little bum in the whole world.) Yes, changes are being made in the Harrington home. Mom is taking a stand. Watch out little ones!

in love again

2009-05-26T19:17:00.000-07:00

I fell in love with Cowboy again. Head over heels love. Yummmm love. Yes, I always love him....but days go fast. Time moves quickly. Especially with two little ones. And him busy working. We don't always take time for each other. Those important moments. To kiss. Cuddle. Really talk. Enjoy alone time. But we did this weekend, and it was really really nice. It was totally special. Just the two of us. We had date night on Saturday which was much needed. I prettied myself up for him. Thank god. I'm sure he was tired of me looking fugly. We went to a cool, romantic restaurant. Drank wine. Held hands. Even made out a little while waiting for our car. That was fun. It's been too long for a little make out session. My favorite part of the weekend? Sunday. We thought about going to a barbecue but decided to stay home. Cashlin and Ava woke from their naps, and we all went into the backyard. I filled up the kiddie pool. Cowboy blasted our stereo. We put on our bathing suits and just relaxed. Watched Ava play with her water table. Cowboy read. I kicked a soccer ball back and forth with Cash. We soaked up the rays. And it was just awesome. Just great. The little ones were happy. We were happy. Everyone was having fun. What a perfect afternoon. And then my Cowboy grilled salmon, and we sat outside at the table. I just thought, wow, this is really perfect. This is what it's like being a family, and I love it. And I love my Cowboy.

patience

2009-05-17T22:42:00.000-07:00

Being a mother requires patience. So much patience. So much that sometimes I can't even believe it. I want to be a great mom. The best mom. A cool mom. Fun. Loving. Gentle. Sweet. Understanding. Awesome. When Cashlin said to me, "Momma, I don't love you when you yell at me," I was so sad. So so sad. And I was also angry. And annoyed. When did he get to be so darn smart? I replied, "Well, Mommy doesn't love you when you don't listen." Did I actually say that?? Oh gosh. How awful. Or isn't it? I wanted him to understand. But he doesn't understand -- he's only three. And he's a lil' devil. A very very cute lil' devil. But I swear he's got horns growing out of his head. I'm beginning to believe it's true... it's not the terrible twos. It's the terrible threes. I went to bed that night when we had our little heart to heart and felt terrible. I don't ever want to yell at Cashlin. But sometimes it happens. Quite frequently lately. And every day I wake up and tell myself, today I'm going to have more patience. Much much more patience. Just someone please tell me -- how do I do it?? Do they sell a patience pill??

up close and personal

2009-05-05T18:39:00.000-07:00

Cashlin is turning three tomorrow. And for a three year old, he talks a lot. He expresses himself very well. Today he came into the kitchen and told me his bum was sore. He said, "Momma, my culi (Italian for tiny butt) is hurting." Then he asked if I would blow on it. A few times, I've blown on his area when he's had a bad diaper rash. Especially if I just lathered him up in Desitin. He always cries and screams like that stuff burns. (Does it??) He rarely gets a diaper rash anymore, and him asking me to blow on his culi at 2 o'clock in the afternoon just made me laugh. BUT I didn't laugh. I didn't want to make him feel bad. I told him to come to me. I helped get him comfortable on the kitchen floor. Took his pants off. Then his diaper. Here it is, bright bright sunlight. In my sunny yellow kitchen. And I'm blowing on my little one's area. Yes, he was indeed red. And it was sad. But it was also very funny. He looked like such a big kid today. He's longer than my kitchen carpet now. And there he was -- just laying there. On the floor. Legs spread apart. With his momma blowing ever so gently on his cute little red tush. Seriously about inch from my face. Before having kids, I never would've imagined being this close and personal -- blowing on a sore bum. In my kitchen. In the bright. So darn close to my face. It's funny how something you may have thought would be gross or weird...just isn't. Everything goes when your a mom. What don't we do for our children?? Just a week ago, I took my tweezers and pulled out a pea from Cashlin's nose. I swear I'll do anything for this kid. No matter how strange or ridiculous. Or up close.

mother-in-laws

2009-04-24T18:49:00.000-07:00

My mother-in-law is coming to visit this Sunday. Her and my father-in-law are staying for a week. We are all looking forward to this visit as we see each other about twice a year. ... But today I found myself behaving like Cinderella. I was cleaning every little itty bitty inch of the house. Seriously on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor and taking the refrigerator apart. I was even cleaning the outside of the washing machine. Who does that?? Look, I don't even know if my mother-in-law is the type to notice every single thing. I certainly don't think she inspects every room or analyzes every speck of dirt. But does she? Do all mothers? I can't help but worry. I even feel anxiety. I want everything to be perfect. And I just want to know, do all wives feel this way about their mother-in-law??

lost pet bird

2009-04-18T14:02:00.000-07:00

We got off the Fwy this morning and I saw the most hilarious sign. It was posted right off the exit (one sign on both sides actually) ... with the words "LOST PET BIRD. PLEASE CALL" and the cutest picture of a white and yellow cockatoo. Ummmm, hello?!? Lost bird?!? Are you serious? He's probably on his way to Mexico by now....not flying around in someone's backyard. If I lost my bird -- if I had a bird -- and it flew out the window, I would be so so sad. But I would also assume my bird was never ever coming home again. I mean, unless it's a smart bird... but if it just kept flying without even looking back, not even once, not even a glance, I would know that my bird was so damn happy being free. FINALLY BEING FREE! I wouldn't even think about posting signs off the Fwy. He's not going to land on the shoulder of a guy at the Mobil station. He most likely isn't going to go for a dip in the pool in my neighbor's yard. And he sure as hell isn't going to be found just trotting along the sidewalk on White Oak Blvd. Give me a break. Your bird isn't lost. He's free and flying with the seagulls over Malibu by now. Jack ass.

holy hotness

2009-04-16T17:51:00.000-07:00

Why are men in uniform so hot?

be my baby forever

2009-04-08T15:52:00.000-07:00

Babies grow too fast. Way too fast. It's sad really. The last few weeks I've been weaning Ava, and it's been the hardest thing to do. (not as hard as potty training Cashlin...a different type of hard.) Last night I looked at Cowboy in bed and started crying. I didn't even feel like I had to cry. Where were these tears coming from? All of a sudden, I just felt so sad. I want Ava to be my baby forever. Shit, I still want Cashlin to be my baby. Where has time gone? When Cash approached age 1, I couldn't wait for him to walk. With Ava, I hope she takes her time. I'd rather see her crawl around the house and remember this moment. Her sweet baby face with only two bottom teeth. And actually, she doesn't even crawl. She does this adorable side scoot on one leg. I love it. I just love her. And I feel so sad that she's almost 1. Yes, she'll still be a baby...but a big baby. On her way to Toddlerhood. Wasn't I just pregnant with her?? What happened? And here I am, almost done nursing her. Oh, it's awful. I get stuck in these moments, and I never want them to end. (well, maybe not never...but you know) Just beautiful beautiful moments between mothers and babies.

tragedy

2009-04-04T14:42:00.000-07:00

I know this is dated news, but it's been on my mind every day since. Natasha Richardson. This tragedy makes my heart ache. Just the other day, I read in an article that women for the next week or so will be thinking and talking about Natasha. That she is the EveryWoman. A wife. A mother. A beautiful beautiful woman. Who died way too early. Leaving two young sons. A husband. Just so completely awful. This story is so touching and deeply troubles me. Being a mom myself and a wife. I hate hearing that things like this actually happen. Something so freakish. So horrible. It makes me really wonder about Life. About the order of things. About what's meant to be. It's a tragedy that stays with me because not a day goes by since I had Cashlin that I don't think about the What If -- what if something awful happens....to me...to my children....to my husband. At least once a day, in my mind I see a gut-wrenching accident involving my Cash or Ava. Just yesterday I hadn't heard from Cowboy all morning. Odd. I began to worry. To panic. I called him three times until finally hearing from him. I pictured him on the road in the most horrific car accident. Tears began to drop from my eyes. And then I quickly wonder what the hell is wrong with me??? Do all women do this? Do all mothers and wives? Is this why we age worse than men because we worry out of control??
So after hearing about Natasha Richardson, I can't help but have these thoughts and fears. Daily. Because these things do happen. Awful crazy horrible weird freakish things happen. And that scares me. It will keep scaring me until I can forget about her and her story. Or at least block it far far far from my mind and my heart. And pretend that things like this don't really happen. That I don't need to worry when I just go to the grocery store or when Cowboy takes our little ones to Johnny Rockets for hot dogs. There's nothing to worry about. Bad things don't happen. But they do. And it's so so so sad.
So, yes, I am thankful for Life. I am thankful for waking up every morning. For having the most loving husband ever. For the most beautiful boy in the world. For the cutest baby girl in the universe. I am thankful.

blind people

2009-03-31T20:49:00.000-07:00

I wonder how many blind people there are in the world. Or how about this -- how many blind people are there in the United States? I know I've mentioned I'm a fan of "American Idol." Yes, I am. Maybe a big fan actually. I'm not embarrassed to admit it. I love watching it for all the many years it's been on. Surprisingly, as much as I enjoy it, I never ever vote. Never have. I don't know why. I know I never will. But that doesn't matter. I just want to say I'm really bored of the blind guy on the show. Shit, I know that's mean....but Scott's gotta go! He's gotta go! How can he possibly be in the top nine?!? Are there that many blind people out there voting for him?? Can blind people even vote?? (I'm totally kidding.) It's really great that he's been in the competition this long, but now it is time... time to go home. With his piano. Stop the sympathy voting. Please. Dear god.

33

2009-03-25T06:59:00.000-07:00

My birthday was Sunday. I turned 33. I ran to the mirror and inspected my face...looking for new lines, new crevices, new brown spots.... Look, I don't think I'm getting OLD, but I am definitely getting older and it's hard to deal with. I used to love birthdays. I used to get so very excited for my birthday to come...but now....no. Not anymore. The years are going by so fast. I'm watching Cashlin and Ava get so darn big. Their birthdays are approaching, and I can't even believe it. Can't even believe it! My baby girl is going to be 1! WHAT?!? When did that happen?! So sad. But wait -- back to me. Being 33. Such a strange number really. Just kinda there. Kinda in the middle. Like, yes, I am truly in my thirties now. I am a woman in her thirties. Not deep in her thirties. Just gettin' warmed up. With 40 looming around the corner. Ha Ha. Both my sisters are in their forties now. As of Saturday night, Carol turned 40. Lisa's 41. I've got seven years before hitting 40. Before catching up to them. ... Which is actually pretty funny because, by then, they'll almost be 50. You know, I hated that my mom waited so long to have me (waited?? maybe I was an accident?!), but now I am so glad it took seven years. Happy birthday to me. :)

skinny bitch at the beach

2009-03-18T22:11:00.000-07:00

Okay, so today I went to the beach with Cashlin and Ava. We parked our butts on the sand. Even though it was a gorgeous day, I was still surprised at how many people were there. Cash and I love to people watch. I, however, am very discreet about it especially with my dark shades on. Cash, on the other hand, just stares at people. Stares. And points. Sometimes it's a little embarrassing, but it's always hilarious. And yes, it was a beautiful day...but it's March. I mean, come on, it's only March. The first day of spring hasn't even arrived yet. I think there should be a rule -- no bathing suits on the beach until June 1st. Doesn't matter how hot it is. No skimpy suits. No bathing suits period. Everyone needs to just wear casual beach clothes and hang. Most of the beachgoers today had clothes on. A few guys were shirtless. A couple chicks wore shorts with a bikini top. And then there was that one girl. The one girl. The skinny bitch on the beach. She had the skimpiest bikini on. And she looked frickin hot. She was totally tan and had the longest blond locks ever just flowing in the beach breeze. At one point she got up to walk to the water, and I swear to god, a million man eyes followed her every move. Men are so gosh darn predictable. Put a woman in their path with practically no clothes on, and they'll stare and drool all over the place. I couldn't get over how many heads turned. And then there were those men sitting next to their wives or girlfriends and they pretended not to look -- but they were! The man in front of us started searching through his wife's purse though his eyes were following the girl's ass all the way to the ocean. Unbelievable. But the best part, the best part, was when she got to the edge of the sea. Instead of squatting down to touch the water, she bent over ... legs stiff, butt in the air ... it was quite a scene. Many many viewers appeared to enjoy it. Even Cashlin turned and said, "Momma, what's she doing??" I told him the truth. "Showing off her great ass, sweetie."

it's that time again

2009-03-10T20:25:00.001-07:00

Uh oh. It's that time again. You know summer is really coming when you get Victoria's Secret Swim 2009 catalog. Jesus Christ. If there's anything that will get me to move my ass, it's these 83 pages of the sexiest, skinniest women in the hottest swimsuits. I've been staring at it all day even though I totally don't want to. I can't help it. And I'm hiding it from Cowboy. I certainly don't need him seeing these babes. In all my 32 years of life, I have never ever looked this good at the beach -- and shit! I'm tired of it! Can't they just once make a catalog full of fugly ugly girls who are fat?? Actually, they don't even have to be fat. How about just average -- like a size 8 or 10 or something! How great would that be? ... I'm keeping it hidden in my underwear drawer for inspiration. I should actually tape pages of it in the fridge and right next to my cookies and cream ice cream in the freezer. UGH. This is depressing.

S.O.R.

2009-03-08T14:10:00.000-07:00

S.O.R. = Signal of Respect. When I met Cowboy, he drove a motorcycle. We used to ride around the Valley and by the beaches, and I realized that motorcyclists have a signal. Cowboy calls it the S.O.R. When passing another biker, they give this universal sign of respect. The Brotherhood of the Bikers. It looks like the peace sign turned a little on an angle. It's quick. Fast. Barely noticeable to other eyes unless you're riding behind the driver. ... Okay, well, moms also share an S.O.R. Usually it's just a smile, but it can be a friendly wave. Not a big, dorky hello wave. Just a flicker of the fingers. Have you noticed this? Today was the first time I really realized it, and it made me laugh. (I guess because I do this signal all the time...and why did I just realize it today??? I don't know.) I was pushing Ava in my jogger at the park, and a mom was coming towards me with her jogger. Both of us sweating (and huffing and puffing). Both of us trying to work off calories and a tummy of postbaby fat. (The baby bulge that just won't disappear.) While passing one another, we smiled at each other. The smile said it all. A shout out to another mommy. Saying, "You go, girl!!" It was cool. And it made me realize that us moms are a sisterhood too. The Sisterhood of the Mommies. :)

potty chair

2009-03-04T08:13:00.000-08:00

We've been watching "Once Upon a Potty" the last few days now. Over and over again. I got so excited thinking Cashlin wanted to watch it because he wants to poop in Elmo, but he doesn't. I'm just fooling myself. He has no interest in his own chair. He just loves the "poopie" song in this video, and he loves when the little animated boy bends over to show us his butt hole. "See, Momma, that's where poop comes from." Oh. As if I didn't know. ... What really bothered Cowboy was when Cashlin asked, "Is my hole pretty?" I, of course, thought it was hysterical. He rarely even uses the word "pretty." How funny that he says it when asking about his tiny butt hole. And, yes, I told him that his is pretty. What?? What else am I supposed to say?? Cowboy insisted that I take him to Toys R Us to buy him some Tonka trucks. He bent half way over and said in his gayest voice, "Is my hole pretty??" Then he told me I "better take care of his son" and get him some BOY toys. Oh god. Guys are gay. ... I would pay a million dollars for someone to come over and teach my baby how to shit in his potty chair.

peanut butter cups

2009-03-01T13:02:00.001-08:00

Divine. Simply divine. Chocolate and peanut butter mixed together. Heavenly. Reese's peanut butter cups I cannot resist. Cowboy went to the grocery store after work Friday to pick up aspirin. He called and asked what I wanted. "Gummy bears for Cashlin and peanut butter cups for me." Yes, he remembered to buy me chocolate but came home with the biggest snack pack of Reese's ever. Ten peanut butter cups. Oh shit. Not two. Ten! Do you know how awful that is? Do you want to know that I devoured five of them when he got home right before dinner. (the instant he got home actually.) Two of them I polished off while watching tv later. And last night at 11:30 pm, I greedily ate the last three in bed. 11:30 pm!! ... I told myself that starting February I was going to start watching what I ate. (DIET) Maybe you remember this? (remember? wedding in August? summer coming soon?) Well, the whole month of Feb went by and there was not one single ounce of food that I DIDN'T eat. In fact, Cashlin and I were baking all kinds of treats from cupcakes to rice krispy treats to banana bread. It was horrible. (but so delicious.) Okay, so here it is March 1st, and I'm determined to get back on track. (or just ON track actually.) That's why I had to stuff the last three peanut butter cups in my mouth last night before midnight. It was either that or throw them out, and I couldn't...no, I couldn't do that. I know me, I'd be digging them up in the trash later tonight. I had to get rid of all yummies from the house.

minivans

2009-02-27T15:01:00.001-08:00

You know life has changed when suddenly you are thinking about getting a minivan. Oh. My. God. What has happened?? Yes, some minivans are luxurious. Yes, the doors slide open, but come on! It's a minivan! They are so nondescript. So vanilla. Minivans scream the word "MOM!" I drive around in my Mazda. It's black. It's tinted out. Yes, I have two children in the back, but it's quite possible that no one else would know that. Every so often I see a hottie on the road and I totally look with no shame. I pretend I'm single. And I pray to god that he looks in my car back at me...and then does a double-take. That's when I give a flirty smile and speed up. ... Okay, does this ever really happen?? NO. But it sounds good, doesn't it? Well, I can't possibly bring myself to check out guys while driving a minivan. I just can't! I can't! And what's the point?? No man is going to even glance into a minivan. Ummmm, nope. No way. Men have blinders on when they see minivans. Minivans are not sexy. Singletons do not drive minivans. You have to be extremely taken and comfortable with yourself to drive a minivan. You've gotta have at least two kids and a shit load of crap to put in the back. Therefore, I can't believe I'm even considering it....but I am.

richard gere

2009-02-25T15:07:00.000-08:00

No matter what anyone says about Richard Gere and gerbils, I don't care. I've always loved him. He's incredibly sexy and handsome to me -- no matter how old he gets. Ever since Pretty Woman, he's caught my eye. I would totally sneak in an affair with him. :) I'm almost positive I've seen every movie he's been in since. I could very well be his #1 fan. ... Okay, okay, I won't go that far. Anyways, I was shocked when Cowboy brought home Nights in Rodanthe this weekend. Blockbuster must've been empty. But I was so excited. I mean, I loved The Notebook. God, I loved The Notebook. (who didn't??) Ah, yes, Ryan Gosling. YUUMMMMMMMMMY. But, sad to say, Nights just didn't do it for me. At. All. In fact, I was completely bored. And I'm all about romantic films - Richard Gere or not. I love romance. I love crying. I love heartache. Misery. Affairs. Passion. Steamy sex scenes. Breaking up. Making up. (SIGH) Oh, well. Disappointment definitely. Shit, I was even drinking wine. That should've helped. But it didn't. It was still nice to see my old love though. Richard. :)

women tell all

2009-02-24T12:28:00.000-08:00

Ahhhhhh, I just love "The Bachelor -- Women Tell All"....love it, love it, love it. Though do they really tell all? Do they? So, yes, we found out that Jason and Molly only hit first base in the tent. BORING. And Jillian confronted Jason about his kiss with Melissa (though I don't know why she did it!) Oh god, he gave her the "friend" card!! That's the worst!!!!! It screams, "I like you a lot but am sooooo not attracted to you physically." Of course, it's always great to see Trista and Ryan. Can they be any cuter? (even though Cowboy commented that he thinks Ryan talks like he's retarded.) I like them and think Ryan's a hottie. ... Oh, I almost forgot! And Natalie -- what was she thinking sitting in the hot seat? Those girls did NOT like her, and she really came across as an idiot and a slight bitch. (what? more than slightly?) Felt bad for her. She needs to go back to Chicago and hide out for a bit. Hhmmm....my prediction for next Monday's show?? Melissa, of course.

an army of children

2009-02-21T15:22:00.001-08:00

There are days (like today) when having two children, seriously feels like eight. How can that be? And then I wonder, how do other people with more kids do it? Does it just get easier? Do you just not think about it anymore? When Cowboy said at lunch today that he thinks we're done having babies, I thought to myself, maybe we are!!!! Holy shit. Cashlin's been a drama queen all morning. I've never seen so many tears. Everything's an issue today. Ava too. This is why I can't wait for my shipment of wine to get here (remember? the wine club?). So when there are days like these, I can always rely on my friend (my glass of merlot) to make the day all better. ... When my friend was here Thursday night for girl time (which, by the way, was the best!) I couldn't clean out her glass of wine when she left. There is no wasting wine in this house -- even if it's the littlest ittiest drop. I got out my measuring cup and poured wine from both our glasses in...and then right back into the bottle, it went. Just a few more hours till darkness, and then it will be time for a glass. I can't wait.

two year old teenager

2009-02-19T19:29:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I can't believe the things that come out of Cashlin's mouth. I stare at him in disbelief trying soooo hard not to laugh...or cry. .... Like this past weekend. I've been growing my hair out since I got married. I had super super short pixie hair. I loved it. Cowboy LOVED it. When my wedding was approaching, I decided to grow it out. I knew it would look softer and feminine especially under a veil. Then people started commenting on how my hair was growing. They seemed excited. I took this as a sign. Maybe I look better with long hair. (hhmmmm) But, can I tell you, I hate long hair. Not in general. Just on me. I hate it. I hate all the hair on the bathroom floor. I hate how often the shower clogs up. I hate having to wash it frequently. Brush it. And I tend to just put it back or up -- all the time!! So I did it! On Valentine's Day. I went to cut my hair. When I got back, I ran to see my little sweet pea, Cash. I couldn't wait to see his face. Hear him tell Mommy how pretty she looks. No. Nope. Instead he looked at me and said, "Momma, you look yucky." My. God. That is so sad. When I asked him why (which I shouldn't have done...i was totally asking for it now), he said, "I don't like your face or your hair!!"
How can this be my child?? Did he really come out of ME?? I grabbed him, pinned him down, opened up his mouth with my fingers (gently, i promise) and yelled inside, "WHERE IS MY BABY BOY?! WHERE HE IS?! CASHLIN ARE YOU IN THERE!?"
I hope the sweet child I gave birth to comes back to me. :)

superhero

2009-02-18T10:09:00.000-08:00

Lately I've been fantasizing about how great it would be to be a superhero. A super sexy superhero. One who wears tight black leather. Tall black stilettos. Carries a black whip. A gun strapped to my garter belt. No mask. Short dark hair tucked behind my ears. Total push-up bra making my boobs stand out and look va-va-va-voom. I picture myself like Catwoman, but not so much on the kitty side. I don't want to meooooow or puurrrrrrr. I do, however, want to kick some butt. I want to put Cashlin and Ava to bed and then slink out the bedroom window. "See ya later, Cowboy," I'll say. And then I'll be off. Off into the night. Rescuing girls from their creep boyfriends or abusive husbands. Maybe I'll rob a bank or two. Hhmmm. Do superheroes rob banks?? Then I'll fly by the local fire department and check out all the boys inside. Hee Hee Hee. (Gotta LUV firemen!) ... I just asked Cash who I would save if I was a superhero. He said, "Nobody, Mommaaaaa!" How sad.

sex and the bachelor

2009-02-17T15:44:00.000-08:00

I think all of us want to know the real scoop on "The Bachelor." I mean, come on, do they or do they not have SEX??!! Last night women all over watched to see who would go home. Three girls left. All alone on dates with Jason in New Zealand. It looked heavenly there, didn't it? Aaaaahhhh, a beautiful place to fall in love. I always wait in anticipation to see how the girls are going to react when he hands them the "come into my bedroom" card. God, we've seen this show many many times. It's not like they don't know what's comin'!! I liked how Molly surprised him with her own card (that's a first, isn't it??). She was ready to get down and dirty with Jason. ... Oh, Jason. I don't know what I feel about him. At times I think he's handsome. His body's pretty kickin'. But he's short. OMG! I know that's mean, but after being with such a tall man, I could never imagine going short. No matter how fat I feel, I always feel small again when I stand next to my Cowboy and he wraps his big arms around me. Mmmmm. Yummmy. ... All right. Anyways, I love watching "The Bachelor." Always have. I love LOVE. And I love watching these girls fall in love. I love analyzing their every word and facial expression. I love watching their cat fights (though this season has been kinda mellow, hasn't it??) I definitely applaud these girls because I could never ever go on a show like that. I think it's cool though. ... well, at least when it works out. I understand that feeling of wanting to do whatever it takes for love. For finding love. ... Ummm, you know what, all I wanted to discuss was sex on the show. I always want to know -- how far do they go?? Do they cuddle all night? Smoochie smooch? Does he make it to third base? Are we supposed to assume that he sleeps with all three girls on his trip? Would you? Would I?? (why not??) Hhmmm. He made it seem like the "sexual" connection was very very important to him. Poor Jillian. I think that's why he sent her home. "I've never met a woman like you." She should've yelled, "Then why are you sending me HOME asshole??" I feel bad for her. I really liked her. I actually like all of them (even though I still think it's weird about Melissa's parents not meeting him). Yep. Chemistry with someone is soooo important. He even said he doesn't want a best friend (I liked when Jillian said that though). No, he wants MAD love. Passionate lovin'. Sounds good, huh? I want some of that about NOW too!!!!

derby dolls

2009-02-16T11:54:00.000-08:00

This Valentine's weekend has been so great. Like so so so great. I absolutely LOVE Valentine's Day. Let me just say that first. Love it. Love it. Love LOVE. Love hearts. Love red. Love my Cowboy and two little sweet peas. It's been a sweet cuddly snuggly weekend of love. Just perfect. We had a lot of people come over this weekend too which made it even more special. Ummm...so I wanted to talk about the L.A. Derby Dolls. These girls ROCK! Seriously seriously rock and kick ass. (check out their website!!) Since we talked about it on Saturday, that's all I've been thinking about. Do I have the balls to be a Derby Doll??? Hhmmm. I definitely think I've got enough pent up energy and anger to kick butt. I DO! Can I rollerskate? Hell yea. (at least I think) I've always had issues with stopping for some reason. But, hey, I read the Derby Doll website... it says you don't have to have experience skating just to be a Doll. So there! I wonder what I'd call myself..... Haven't you ever wanted to do something just so completely different? Even if it scared the shit out of you? Or maybe it'd be one of the coolest things you've ever tried...maybe it's so unlike you and that's what makes it totally a turn-on. Okay, Cowboy can laugh at me all he wants but I'd do it in a heartbeat. (or wouldn't I??)

wine club

2009-02-11T20:15:00.000-08:00

I've always wanted to be part of a sex club. Don't ask me why. The movies make it look HOT. ... So what's the next best thing?? A wine club. Yesterday I joined my very first wine club. I didn't even wait to talk it over with Cowboy. I (actually hubby) got the letter in the mail from The Wall Street Journal (did you get yours??), and I ripped it right open. I skimmed the lines looking for the price while eagerly dialing at the same time. Sometimes (all the time) I am feigning for a glass (or two) of wine once the evening sets in. As soon as it gets dark outside, I search the cupboards for a bottle. Red or white. I look so forward to that first sip. Aaaaaaahhhhhh. Everything is all better now. I see a brightly colored rainbow. I see a relaxed husband. I see sweet children. I can't hear any more whining or crying. The house no longer appears filthy. The million toys scattered all over the den don't bother me (unless I step on them). Washing the dishes and folding the laundry is fun again. My back no longer hurts from holding Ava's eighteen pound ass all day. Aaaahhhh. Much much better.
I can't wait for my case of red to arrive. Mmmmmmmmm.

the wedding

2009-02-09T17:33:00.000-08:00

Cowboy and I were invited to a wedding in Chicago. The wedding's not until August, and already I'm freaking out. Don't laugh!! Here's two things that are on my mind. #1. Leaving my little ones for the first time for a few nights. I already know this is going to kill me and break my heart. It might possibly be so bad that I will ruin the entire getaway because I'll be missing them so much. Missing them...missing their delicious baby smell, their chubby chubby cheeks, their bright eyes, their naked bods, their cute little ears and tiny hands, ohhhhhh, I'll be missing their big smiles in the morning when I enter their room, missing their cries for help, missing their kisses and especially missing Cash say "Momma." Oh. My. God. Okay, I don't even want to go anymore. My heart is already hurting -- and we're talking about August, people!! AUGUST! AAAAAHHHHHHH! ... BIG SIGH. What is my deal????
Oh, you still want to know #2?? Think baby fat. Think middle waist postbaby fat. Think my ass. My big Brazilian ass as Cowboy calls it. I've got weight to lose, ladies. Yes, I do. Yes, I do. And you know what, I've been eating way more lately than usual. WHY? Because I'm already obsessing about leaving, traveling without Cash and Ava AND wanting to lose a little tummy bulge. Oh, forget the bulge...I should say, I'd like to lose a little all frickin over. When I try to be more conscious of what I'm stuffing in my mouth, the worse I eat. Why is that? Do other girls do that? Just yesterday Cash and I made cupcakes with chocolate frosting. (This was our second batch in one week.) Today I ate spoonfuls of peanut butter straight from the monstrous jar in our cupboard. It's been Italian night for the last three days with a wicked amount of garlic bread and pasta being made. (Oh, did I mention with Alredo sauce??) And tonight? Well, tonight I'm craving rice krispy treats. Always gotta eat somethin' yummy while watching "The Bachelor" -- even though these last few girls left are way way too sweet and nice to each other. (Where's the drama??!!) All right, so tomorrow it shall be then. Tomorrow...tomorrow. When the rain stops and the sun shines, I will get my children in their jogger and run my ass off. ........ I HOPE.

nemo the clown fish

2009-02-07T21:48:00.000-08:00

Ohhhh, I just have to share this. My lil' sweetie pie, Cashlin, made me laugh so hard this evening. The four of us were watching Finding Nemo. Cash had so many questions about Nemo. He wanted to know what kind of fish he was, why he was orange, why his one fin had a boo boo, why his daddy couldn't find him, if he had a penis or a vagina... Awwww, the mind of a two year old. :) But what was so darling, was hearing him call the little clown fish Finding Nemo. Even though I kept trying to explain that the movie was called Finding Nemo and that the fish's name was just Nemo, Cash still insisted on calling him FINDING NEMO. If I corrected him, he yelled, "NO! Don't say that! It's Finding Nemo!" And every time he asked a question, he'd begin with "Why does Finding Nemo..." It was hilarious and too darn cute.

sober house

2009-02-07T12:02:00.000-08:00

I have to admit, I'm a sucker for reality TV. I just finished watching this week's episode of "Sober House." I LOVE this show. I LOVE how no one's sober yet. ... Well, okay, a few are (but the boring ones!). I swear, I must have a thing for bad boys. I must! I simply must! Man! I've been fantasizing about Shifty. Mmmmmm.... I'd like to see him NAKED. Singing his butterfly song to me while I lick his body...all over his tattoos. Parteeeee with him all night long. hee hee hee
Is that the bad girl in me??

aim your thang

2009-02-06T16:04:00.000-08:00

I am so proud of my little one for wanting to go on the potty yesterday. I was shocked. Seriously in shock. Normally when I even mention the word "potty chair," Cash screams bloody hell. "NO!! Don't say that word!!" he yells. So...I haven't brought it up lately. I was waiting. Patiently waiting like a good mommy. They say your kid will tell you when he's ready to go -- and he did. He loves his Elmo potty chair though honestly, he's rather too big for it now. He sits so low and his knees come up so high. It makes me laugh. He looks like a giant sitting on this itty bitty chair. But he won't sit on the "big people" toilet as he calls it.
There he was sitting on his chair reading a book. Then he squeaks, "Momma! I'm peeing!" I turn to see he is peeing just not in his chair. Pee is squirting on the edge of the seat, over the side and unto the bathroom floor rug. And I didn't really know what to do. Am I supposed to tell him to hold his penis and point it into the potty? Or just position his lil' body in a different way so that it's shooting in?? ... Well, that's what I ended up doing. I told him to keep movin' his body until he was peeing in the right place. I couldn't believe how much pee this teeny body had inside him. He'd stop. And then go again. Laugh. Stop. Then more pee. It was actually quite funny, but I was trying hard to be serious. And when he finally finished going, he had the cutest face. He was so proud of himself, and I was so proud of him. I took the potty chair cup out and spilled it into the toilet. Cashlin was super excited to flush while shouting, "Go swim with the sharks!!"
Now the question is... WILL HE GO IN HIS CHAIR AGAIN??

memoir writing

2009-02-05T21:52:00.000-08:00

Today was an outstanding day. An absolutely incredible day, and I am so elated. When I started writing my memoir eight years ago, it wasn't because I thought I was actually going to write a book. I certainly didn't think I was going to finish it (whatever "it" was). Publish it. Do anything with it. I started writing because it was an outlet for me. A way to get away from the insanity of my newfound relationship. Writing just made me feel at peace. Made me feel whole. And I kept writing. And writing. And writing. It wasn't until the end that I started to believe that maybe I could do something with it. Maybe I would share it with the world. And that thought gave me such a rush. Seeing my words, my thoughts in an actual book...with a cover...with my picture...with my whole name on it. When I pictured my audience, I didn't see any particular faces. I wasn't writing this for my family. I wasn't writing this for friends. I was writing it for myself and for women out there like me. Women who love talking about sex, who love LOVE, who believe in soulmates, who can't wait to be mommies, who love being pregnant, who love eating and shopping and laughing. Girls who want to be sexy. Girls who usually feel fat for no reason. Girls who want to experience life and get a lil' crazy once in awhile. Girls who love "Sex and the City" and Bridget Jones's Diary. That sums up me right there. ...
I finally told my mom today about my memoir. I'm 32 years old and yet, I was still very nervous and unsure of how she would take it. Sounds ridiculous? I'd like to say I'm a very reserved person. I'm quiet. I'm shy. I'd even say I'm pretty introverted. What I do best is smile. I smile when I'm nervous. I smile when I'm happy. I smile when I don't know what to say. Smiling is easy. Writing a memoir was easy too but sharing it?? Not that easy. All of a sudden, I had these doubts -- am I doing the wrong thing? will I feel embarrassed? ashamed? what will my parents think? will they be embarrassed or uncomfortable?? ...
My mom cried today. She cried when she opened my wrapped book signed by me. She flipped it over, saw my photo and squealed in excitement. While reading the back of the book, I tried not to blush. I reminded myself that I'm an adult. Yes, her baby girl but an adult woman nonetheless. I should be proud (even IF I'm writing about great sex). And when I heard her laughter and saw her eyes well up, it was all worth it. A heavy weight was lifted. Hearing her say how proud she was. How thrilled she was. How she doesn't care that it's intimately detailed...she's happy for me. So happy that I'm doing something I love. I've accomplished something big.
My mom made me feel like a million bucks today. Her approval, her happiness and joy made me feel like I just conquered the world. It's the greatest feeling.
Thank you, Mom. I love you.

butts and penises

2009-02-03T16:27:00.000-08:00

I will call today butt and penis day because that's all Cash wanted to talk about. "Mommy, do dogs have butts? ... Do the Little Einsteins have penises? ... Momma, do zebras and elephants have butts? ... Does Ava have a penis? ... Does Daddy have a penis? And does he have a butt too? ... Do sharks have penises? ... Do the Wonderpets have butts? ... Do blankies have penises?" But my personal fav was earlier today when we took a bath together. He said, "Momma, you've got a big butt!!" And then he started laughing hysterically. Okay, great...well, at least he knows I've got a butt. Huh?

quickies

2009-02-02T08:53:00.000-08:00

Why are quickies for moms so great? Because you think you're toddler is going to walk in on you at any second? Because your baby will wake from her nap any moment? Why is it that when you're gettin' some lovin', your little ones always seem to sense somethin's up?? ... I like quickies. They're fast, to the point, fun, spontaneous, fast (did i say that already??)...oh, and I don't have to take all my clothes off. This is great because a) when Cashlin does come storming down the hall, he'll think we're playing twister, b) Cowboy won't notice the postbaby tummy bulge (x's 2) still in place and c) I can just jump up and get back into my daily routine of being a mommy. Aaaaahhhhhh. Quickies. Yum.

The Duchess

2009-02-01T15:38:00.000-08:00

Have you ever felt that you should've been born in a different time? a different era? or period? I watched The Duchess on Friday night and just loved loved LOVED it. Every time I watch a movie like this, I get sooooo in awe........ Oh, how I would've loved to live in a time where I wore gorgeous full gowns, a tight corset, long satin gloves, hats, stunning lavish jewelry...I'd ballroom dance, live in England, travel to the country for the summer, ride a pony with my legs crossed over, meet a delicious duke or a gorgeous prince.....hhmmmm.... I really recommend this film if you haven't seen it. It may, at times, anger you like it did me or make you cry (like me again), but then it wouldn't be a very good movie if it didn't make you feel something -- would it??