Back-ENDED Compliments

I've never really been one for fashion. (I know you're totally shocked, right? What with the men's jammie pants and argyle sock obsession... hey I'm not just a fashion queen, I'm a fashion GODDESS.../snicker)

When I do actually manage to get dressed it's usually in jeans and some kind of snarky tee shirt, most of which are rife with oddball things...ninjas...zombies...carnivorous bunnies...whatever. It's all good. Throw on a pair of converse sneakers in whatever color, and I'm done. You might say my look is rather casual. Some might say that I missed the fashion bus ages ago. It's probably safer to say that it ran me over and backed up a few times, but I digress...

I accepted my total lack of fashion sense years ago, but every now and then I do manage to get something right. Sometimes the earth turns, the planets align, the heavens smile down upon me, and I look pretty good, yo! Saturday night was just such an occasion. Dave and I were going to the adult-only session of Conference. I hadn't planned on what to wear- just grabbed something and threw it on. I ended up in a black knit fitted long-sleeved top, charcoal gray knee-length pencil skirt, fishnet stockings and 3 1/2 inch black come-hither heels. It was a complete and total accident, but with my curls cooperating and red lipstick in the mix, it was one happy accident. The look on Dave's jaw as it lay on the floor was enough to tell me I did good. I left the house with a little spring in my step and maybe a little more swing than necessary in my hips.

We left a little early so my Sugar Daddy could buy me the new Iphone 5. Walking into the Verizon store was fun. I even found a dollar in the parking lot. I felt like I'd gotten a tip when I bent down to pick it up. The store was jam packed with men; customers and employees both--and all eyes were instantly on little ole me. Usually that kind of thing freaks me out, but that night it felt pretty awesome...at first. Pregnancy changes you inside and out. I have 3 kids. It was nice to feel like I could still turn a head, but there does come a point when you're ready to be relegated back into the obscurity that somewhat chunky girls tend to live in. I'm generally pretty comfy there, and as good (for me) as I looked that night- a super model I am not, and this was getting downright weird.

It took a while as it always does, and I became more and more uncomfortable. After I finally got my sweet little phone all set up and paid for, we headed for the door, still the center of attention. I was halfway through it when a woman behind me finally decided to let me in on the big secret. The zipper in my new my skirt had broken, separated down the middle, and the whole universe could see everything. E-VER-Y-THING. And she proclaimed it loud enough for at at least 2/3rds of the country to hear. (Okay, probably not, but it sure felt that way.) I sorta stood there as realization hit. I could feel the burn as the blush traveled up my body from my sassy shoes to my stocking-ed knees.. up what remained of my skirt, shirt, past my cherry red lips down to the very ringlets of my hair. Then I turned my very exposed tail and virtually fled to Dave's car.

Needless to say we didn't make it to Conference. Getting in the house was fun too, as our neighbors never seem to go inside ever. I don't know if it was when I struggled to get out of his car in my heels or if it was when I bent to pick up that dollar, or if it was at some point in the store. What I do know is that pride goeth before the fall.

Touche, Thumb. Or should I say... tushie?

I gots me some bling, yo!

After much nagging whining cajoling sweet-talking, I very nervously posted my first entry in over a year. (Can we say rusty?) I wasn't sure how it would be received considering how incredibly long it's been since I've shared my thoughts in 1's and 0's. My dear faithful readers have been amazing, though. (Can't believe you came back. Suckers :)

I'd already had two wonderful days of encouragement, kind words, super sweet comments, and then low and behold I got the coolest thing ever. It's A Major Award, y'all! And while it isn't the groovy leg lamp that every blogger dreams of having on her page, it is very pretty and very sweet, and I'm very honored that a blogger I much admire nominated me for it. Go check her out. You won't be disappointed.

Of course, it does come with some stipulations. Here are da rulz...
1. Attach said award to your blog. It took me a few minutes and some choice words, but I finally figured out how to do that. (It's over there---------> Ta Daaaa!)
2. Tell folks 10 things about yourself that they may not know. Generally, I avoid meme-like stuff like the plague, but I will make an exception for this, because I have found a way to warp it to my liking (cuz that's the way I roll, yo.)So here ya go.
10 Embarassing things you probably didn't know about me (and will probably want to forget.)

If I could have any kind of pet in the world, it would be a prairie dog.

I love weird and warped things...zombies, carnivorous bunnies, clicky-top pens...

I have a method for eating everything. For example: the proper way to eat a Cadbury egg involves great concentration and precision with the back of a spoon.

When I was a kid, I had a massive crush on Eric Estrada. I would only watch C.H.I.P.S. when no one else was around for fear that it would show on my face how desperately I loved him.

I once got run over by a motorcycle.

When I was 13, my mom bought me a beautiful silver bathing suit...that turned completely transparent when wet. This fact was discovered by my brother while swimming at an over-crowded Olympic-sized Public pool.

I have a sick addiction to office supplies. Nothing makes me happier than walking through every single aisle of Staples.

In college, I had to sing an Italian aria in a performance class in front of a roomful of other vocal students whose sole purpose was to critique me. I forgot the words to the third verse, and in a panic just started making them up. I threw out every Italian-sounding word I could come up with...pizza, amore, palozza.. My professor was not exactly amused, but no one else was the wiser...until he made me tell them all what I'd done.

Labyrinth is my all-time favorite movie. I can say every line of it. (Forget the kid, I would've picked David Bowie.)

My mouth repeatedly gets me in tons of trouble. It spews idiocy at the drop of a hat. For example, I recently told a roomful of my husband's family that a Northern accent sounds like nails on glass to me. Every single one of them lives in Michigan.

And finally,
I once had to sing "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair" with 4 other girls while wearing a towel. On the last night of performance, the director made a last minute change to our entrance. I didn't get the notice and started singing two measures early. I was so startled I nearly washed myself right out my towel and then spent the rest of the song desperately trying to keep it from giving an encore.

See why I don't do memes?

The last rule is
3. Nominate 6 other bloggers for the award.
Here are (in no particular order) my nominations for the Kreativ Blogger Award .

1. I don't know this chika, Emily, from Not so Idle Hands, but I wish I did. She's my crafting hero. So cool. So creative.

2. Don't know this one either, but Hyperbole and a Half is one of the most hysterical things I've ever read. I believe she is a great favorite of The Cosmic Thumb (we're.../sniff...we're...THUMB SISTERS), and her illustrations are pure genius.

3. This next nomination is my little sis, Lee Bay, author of The Bays, with Dirtyface Kids. I would link her, but her blog is private. You'll just have to take my word for it that you are missing out. Sorry. What I love about her is her willingness to absolutely speak her mind about everything. There's very little censoring. She is who she is and she will tell you all about it in a witty way that just comes naturally to her. She also has her blog made into a book every year, so her family will have a history of it all; the good, the bad, and the ugly too. How cool is that?

4. My dear husband, Dave, ought to get not one, but two of these (although I'm pretty sure he won't put it up.) He has two awesome blogs. The first is his technical blog. Who'd have thought he could make nerdinese so understandable and even.. /gulp.. interesting! Then there's his food blog. If you've ever had a dish he's made, then you know why I had to include it.

5. Next is Better Libations, co-written by my bro-in-law Dan, and my might-as-well-be-in-law, Jeremy. They have been on a quest for several years now to find and review healthier drinks and to persuade companies that people both want and need better choices. It's very cool and worth a look.

6. My last nomination goes to my big sis, Marianna. I'm so proud of her. She also writes two blogs, but this particular one is so very cool and helpful that it needs a nomination. She knows amazing things about herbs, natural medicine, and preparedness, and she shares her knowledge with the world. You simply must check it out.

Thanks again, dear readers, for your kindness. I have no doubt that more misfortune will find me this year. I resolve to be better about sharing it with you.

Until then...

Parmesan cheese smells like vomit

I've always wanted a clean house. No, NEEDED a clean house. (It's an OCD thing, yo. But hey, it could be worse.) I decided ages ago that when I had my own home it would always be clean and clutter-free. It would be light and bright and tastefully but minimally decorated to ensure proper rest space for the eyes. I would teach my kids to make their beds and to pick up after themselves. They would put away little shoes and hang little coats on cute little hooks upon entering our charming abode. The kitchen would never be caught with a dirty dish in the sink. Bedtime would find everyone cheerfully pitching in, tackling a rotating chore list. Everything has a place, and everything in it's place would absolutely be the case in our happy household. Every morning we'd all start a clean fresh day in a clean fresh house.

(If you're done laughing now I'd like to continue my rant. Thanks.)

You see, there are things they don't tell you about being a mom. When you make that choice (which is amazing and great and really a superb way to live the rest of your life) you are also choosing a life full of yuck and some of the most creative messes you could never have conceived of on your own.

How surprised were you after having kids? You were, weren't you? I was too, but really we all knew better. Its right in front of us everyday, and we totally pass judgment. (Yes you do!) You see things...unpleasant things...things you tell yourself you'd never do cuz that's just gross. Go to the park or a McDonalds. Take a good look around. I guarantee you'll see at least one mom spit wiping a kid's face while another shoves a dropped pacifier in her own mouth before giving it back to the baby. Moms share their cups and silverware, let nasty gooey fingers hand feed them previously chewed fruit and french fries. You'll see a mom shove a kid's diapered butt to her nose and take a good whiff. More than one will look directly down in there and take inventory. Yuck, right!

I attest that every mom is guilty. We say we won't do it, but we ALL DO. Why? Well can you blame us? We are messed up, yo! What we go through for sake of our young'uns-it can't help but mess with your MIND. (Yeah, I see you over there, twitching in the corner.) Mom's get drooled on, chewed on, pooped and peed on. We get bled on and coughed on, snotted and sneezed on. A day I don't get puked on I count as a very good day indeed! It's got to get to you after a while. (You'll know you're there when you reach out to pick that boogie off a kid's nose. Mark my words.)

So "How can I survive", you ask? "How do I cope"? "How can I possibly hope to stave off those nice men in their pretty white coats for just one more day" (sure you want too:)? Well you've come to right place. It's a little thing I like to call a making a reality adjustment.

Ok, let me try that again..ahem... Making a Reality Adjustment. Yes, looks way more impressive that way.

Let me explain. Since becoming a mother I've been introduced to levels of disaster I'd previously thought impossible, even UNREAL, because the messes I have to tackle on a pretty daily basis are so unbelievable that reality must have shifted. Therefore my idea of what it means to be clean must also shift. Right? Right.

Let me introduce you to my new definition of clean.

1. If a whole box of Cheerios does not dot a few hundred square feet of open floor, your house is probably pretty clean.

2. If you can close your dishwasher without having to remove 10 lbs of flour or sugar (or both from off it, your house is probably pretty clean.

3. If you did not find a spaghetti noodle sculpture made out of your 3 month supply of pasta, your house is probably pretty clean.

4. If when you come down the stairs you do not slip in a dozen raw broken eggs, your house is probably pretty clean.

5. If your kitchen has never resembled a murder scene (details coming soon to a blog near you), your house is probably pretty clean.

6. If water has never come pouring into your kitchen from the upstairs...

7. If you have more parmesan in your lasagna than your vacuum...

8. If you're walls have not suddenly attained the same dark brown color of a 2 year old's diaper, then let me assure you, one and all, YOUR HOUSE IS PRETTY FREAKIN CLEAN.

So the next time someone shows up unexpectedly at the door while you're sorting laundry on the couch, or you trip over a stuffed animal or step barefooted on a handful of microscopic legos--when crayon art is more prevalent on your walls than the 15 thousand family portraits, stop. Take a deep breath, and remember to make that reality adjustment. This too shall pass. You're doing just fine.

And sticky kisses always taste the sweetest.