This one's for the Homies.

When I was like 18, I had a crush on this guy. He was pretty much an A-hole and I was pretty much super nice so of course I liked him. One day he took me to the movies. I don't remember the details and I'm sure it wasn't even a date since he didn't even like me back but he was a few years older than me and the movie was rated R.

He got carded and was super embarrassed.

I didn't.

It's funny the things people card you for and the things people don't. I almost NEVER get carded for buying alcohol anymore.

We talked about that.

But I do get carded for super glue.

I will damage the STREETS with some super glue. Just watch me.

I get carded for spray paint and totally get it. I look pretty hard core and gangish.

What really gets me though is what I got carded for yesterday: Chalkboard Spray Paint.

I looked at the guy like, ARE YOU SERIOUS?!

This world might actually be a prettier place if they gave that stuff out to my fellow homies.

Is that how you spell homies?

Seriously though, Gang One can be all, "Oh no they didn't, this is OUR territory!"

Then pull out his little chalkboard eraser and chalk and write in his little gang sign things.

And then the opposing gang can be all, "Oh no they didn't. This is OUR territory."

And pull out his little gang chalkboard eraser and re-draw the original gang sign thing.

See, isn't it cute already.

Then the homeless guy can be all, "Oh no they ALL didn't." He can erase it all and just write, "Let's be honest, I need a drink" or something that he thinks is witty and will get him a buck.

And then the police can be all, "Oh no this city DIDN'T" and erase it all so we can start all fresh.

Basically, I should make the rules and be governor because the answer to all our problems is NOT carding for chalkboard paint.

You're welcome Colorado.

Dear Charlotte: Two months

I don't know what happened between this month and last but you became the BEST little baby. I mean, you totally rocked before but lets face it, you were time consuming. You needed EVERY SECOND of my day AND night but this month you became this happy little thing that is totally cool hanging out on your own under a few toys. And then you know what happens? Mommy can get something done. It's nuts! I can actually get something done sometimes, who would of thought?! The BESTEST part of that though is when I come back for you, you are all smiles.

Smiles!

Yes, you smile! You even chuckle. I just about die on the floor. A heap of almost dead mommy because she couldn't handle your cuteness. My heart melts and I fall even harder for you.

I love you sooo much. Like A LOT. (Sawyer, if you are old enough to read, skip this paragraph.) I recently confided in a friend that I might love you more than Sawyer. This love I feel for you is just sooo intense. Since I love Sawyer a whole hell of a lot too, I'm thinking that my love for him is a bit more complicated than the love I have for you. His love has to also accompany the space for discipline, education and a million of my worries. He runs off and can get seriously hurt. He has to hit all these freakin' milestones. He has to be prepped for school, learn how to use the potty, learn language and manners. All this teaching is stuck right next to my love where the love I have for you isn't all crammed with that other crap. Sooo, I'm hoping that I don't actually love you more, just have a more pure love for you. Is this even making sense? I mean, don't get all big headed and stuff, by the time you read this, I might love you less. ;)


The night of your one month birthday, you smiled at me. No burps or farting came after that smile and I knew it was real. You looked up at me and smiled. A week later, a pissy Charlotte was over tummy time and flipped right over to her back. YES. You flipped from tummy to back and was like, "Take that MOM, making me do tummy time, WHATEV." I'm pretty sure that is what you said.

If you think that is impressive, you chuckle now. Ugh, really, I die when you do that. You laugh and chuckle and are soooo happy. I seriously scored with you.

The only thing that makes you upset is when you see your big brother coming your way. His love for you has not lessened and he hugs you, lays on top to cuddle with you, tries to feed you animal cookies when I'm not looking. He will pick you up and carry you around the living room, shares his milk with you, pets your head to tell you "it's okay". I love how much he loves you but have to watch you like a hawk around him. It's hard to explain to him that loving you is fantastic but loving you too much can hurt. He loves on you so much, you have the look of fear in your eyes and will cry when you see him. Let me tell you, soon his hugs will turn to hits and you will WISH he showed his love the way he does now. Since you are too young, I'll do the appreciating for you.

I can't stop taking your picture or putting you in all sorts of outfits. Again, you are SOOO freaking loved by so many people. If it wasn't for friends and family, you would be kickin' it in Sawyer's hand-me-down blue overalls. But, here you are, two months old with an adorable wardrobe. How spoiled are you?!

Everyone says how strong you are but I'm not sure I see it. I keep comparing you to present day Sawyer and wonder why you aren't walking yet. BUT you hold your head up like a champ, can push your head and a tiny bit of your chest up from tummy time and stand when I hold onto your hands. I guess that is good enough for me.

Your two month appointment went perfectly. The white on your tongue is milk residue and not thrush. You are a little over eight pounds and for once the doctor didn't hound me for you not being bigger. She said you were gorgeous and I agree. I'm hoping your big blue eyes are here to stay.

Since I only have one picture on the computer I'm using, I'll leave you with that; a picture Aurora took that I LOVE and linked to in a previous post...



I love you sucker.

Your mom.

Just so you know what ends up in my mailbox.

So I ordered this online today.



She better not be a little B word.

I plan on beating the crap out of those 20 pounds just like Michael Lohan treats his girlfriends.

Moral: Don't attach yourself onto my thighs or date wife beaters.

Basically, I'm full of wisdom.

Floor Cushions even I could Sew!

If you think you have NO talent in the sewey/crafty world but want to pretend, you HAVE to check out this tutorial. Yeah, I said you HAVE to, I'm bossy like that.

The first one I sewed was for Sawyer's little girlfriend. It was her birthday and I wanted to make her something, you know, all from the heart and crap. I should of made Sawyer's first because I made a few mistakes on hers and then whipped his out in a quarter of the time.

Feel free to oooh and ahhhh.

Operation: Get in Shape, Lose Mass Weight

Guys, I'm super fat. LIke super size me, supah fat. I hate it. It's making me self conscious. I can feel my thighs rub together. This is not cool. I can only fit into my fat clothes.

Fat.
Fat.
Fat.

To make matters worse, my frenemy sent me home with the largest slice of delicious cake last night. This is how she went from friend to frenemy. (She doesn't know about this transition yet.) Just to give you a little description on the cake goodness, she went through THREE batches before getting the cake JUST RIGHT! I mean, talk about a perfectionist baker right? When Sawyer's birthday cake didn't turn out so hot, I just sculpted it into a train that end up looking more like a man's privates, got frustrated and called it good. Happy Birthday kid, here is your penis cake. But not my frenemy and now the few pounds of frosted deliciousness is taunting me from the kitchen.

"Hey gurl, you lookin' so good. How about a piece of me? Hmmmm?"

Shut up CAKE?! You will say ANYTHING to get into someones hands. I'm not falling for your lines THIS TIME!

So I decided that I want to get back into pre-pregnancy weight by my next appointment in October. Fifteen pounds to lose before October. Actually, I have TWENTY pounds to lose but I'm giving myself five as a buffer.

This means I need to step on the scale.

And not drink mojitos every chance I get.

The second might be more difficult than the first.

I'm doomed.

I'm DANGER, JLo Style

I'm the crazy lady with a paint brush. I'll paint anything and AM painting EVERYTHING. I look at something now and think, maybe that would look better white. Gray? Black?

Don't get too close because I'll start wiggling a brush in your face. You might leave here a different color. I might distress your edges with 220 sand paper.

I'm crazy like that.

But my painting endeavors were coming to an end when my husband started throwing around the B word.

Seriously.

He was like, "Budget THIS and Budget THAT" and I was all, screeched record!!!!

UNTIL.

UNTIL, my friends, I found paint on Craigslist for $2.00 a can.

Let me clarify, Benjamin Moore full cans of paint for only $2.00.

And not peach, these were good colors. Hello!

So of course I was all about it and the Craigslist person told me to come get it and listed the address to retrieve the goods. From Sam. Paint from Sam.

I google the address to find it in the ghetto of ghettos in Denver.

Geoff didn't want me going alone so he said he would go with me but we didn't go last night so I decided this paint was too good to pass up and would go this morning.

You know what is annoying? A girl can't get something from a stranger without feeling the need to be protected or take precautions.

Geoff didn't want me to go. "Really, you are going there without me WITH the kids."

Yea.

I started re-thinking my decision until I got all JLo.

Thanks to JLo, I'm like a deadly weapon and not because my butt is big.

You see, when I was in college I lived with three other girls next to the campus we attended. One day we saw flyers up with the face of some guy they called "The Northridge Rapist". This guy was breaking into apartments near the campus and doing things to girls. You can imagine what kind of things. We were a little worried but nothing to ruin our days until,

until,

UNTIL,

our landlord knocked on our door to ask us if we had an uncle in town. I guess some guy has been standing outside our door at specific times and when confronted by our landlord, he would run away. Turns out, it was the same guy from the flyer.

He was stalking us, he figured out our schedules and would be at the door when only one girl was left at home and she was about to leave for her scheduled class or work. He KNEW the times we were home and when we needed to leave.

We were FREAKED! We were instructed to change up our routine, leave all windows covered and try not to be alone. We were so scared, we all slept in the same room. We lived in a dark apartment and didn't let anyone walk to their car alone. This fear was ruining us so we decided that instead of letting this guy control our lives, we were going to take control ourselves and make this guy wish he never messed with us.

You know, if we happen to run into him.

So we did what anyone would do in that situation... rented "Enough" with good ol' JLo.

JLo's crazy husband was trying to kill her and she had ENOUGH! She trained hard core and became this, like, killing MACHINE!

We watched the movie over and over again and would practice fake choking each other and how we were going to get out of the choke hold.

JUST LIKE JLO!

We became confident.

We were ready.

We had ENOUGH.

Luckily our skills never had to be tested and the Northridge Rapist was caught.

But here I am, almost ten years later, thinking about that choke hold exit. I was like a deadly weapon that didn't need to be afraid of a little stranger on Craigslist.

Really, I just needed some paint.

And some bloody knuckles. JLo had Bloody Knuckles, WHERE do they sell bloody knuckles?!

I grabbed the next best weapon and was on my way down the canyon thinking I'm

Danger! Watch yourself. Danger!

Once in the ghetto, I gabbed my WEAPON (Wine opener because I'm hard core) and approached the door ready to corkscrew anyone in the eye that decided to mess with me.

Out stepped this petit girl Samantha with three cans of awesome paint.

I'm not sure if I was bummed or relieved.

Once again, my choke hold exit is unused but I guess a self defense refresher JLo style every ten years is nice.

And I'll use the wine opener for actual WINE tonight because with $2.00 paint, I think I can afford some in that so called budget.



.

Things I've been thinking about.

Pogs. Slammers. They were awesome and if I can get my hands on some again, I'm throwing a drunken pog party and will hopefully have the raddest slammer 2010 has seen. That shouldn't be hard.

When I get my first night of sleep I shouldn't start a huge project the next day because of this "energy" I haven't had in what seems like FOREVER. Oh, and when I say my "first night of sleep" I mean getting more than two hours in a row. I got three in a row and was ecstatic. Then decided to sand and paint the vanity in the kids' bathroom.

Yeah, that isn't a day project.

The next few nights I got only two hours in a row... maybe twice. Four hours of sleep plus a newborn, a toddler and a big project is, ummm, interesting.

I'm getting lots of wrinkles. People don't card me anymore. That or I just look like I should be a drunk and so they sell it to me without hesitation. Old or a drunk...

I miss granite counter tops. I miss them greatly.

I've never been so happy in my life even without granite and with lots of wrinkles.

I want to steal all of my California friends and make them live here with me and have smores every night, laughing about old memories and never ever get fat from all the smores we eat.

I still can't believe I scored my husband. I'm not sure WHAT he was thinking dating me. I sure TRICKED him!

I was suppose to be a great dancer and great singer and star in lots of amazing Broadway shows. Not sure why that didn't pan out. God? Seriously?!

The City is WAY better than The Hills.

I need to download more Hanson songs. They make me smile and dance.

But so does my husband, son, daughter, friends, house, work and everything else in my life. I'm lucky, even with a bad voice, and unique dancing skills. I'm really lucky.

But I would feel even LUCKIER if I can find an awesome slammer...

Me Cheating

"All she talks about is her baby and milky boobs and vaginas tearing open..."

I KNOW! That is why I'm going to randomly re-post but not tell you, even though some of you will know. Don't worry, I'll throw some new stuff in there too. I get tops two hours of sleep in a row so I deserve a little cheating, right? Speaking of cheating...


I’m totally cool with it. I am. My friend and I even had this discussion one week prior to THE incident.

Friend: I just get all uncomfortable.

Me: Well, THEY should FEEL all uncomfortable, not you, and if they were good enough in the first place they wouldn’t catch you with someone else. So, let them feel uncomfortable. Maybe then they will understand that they should have done better. RIGHT?

Friend: Ummm, okay.

I thought I was totally cool with it, until I got caught the other day.I guess all is well until you are in the same room with the one you cheated on and the one you cheated with. UGH!

I just wanted a hair cut that made me look a little more hip. I mean, the last hair stylist was good, he was, but I wasn’t all over the top in love with my do and to give me the benefit of the doubt, I didn’t really ASK for someone else, I just asked for the next soonest appointment.

I had some mean roots and a party in two days. What is a girl suppose to do?

So, there I was, the new (to MY hair) stylist walked me back to her chair when I passed him.

Him totally normal: Hi.

Me totally uncomfortable thinking that he is NOT HAPPY with me cheating: Hi.

I know, nothing amazing, but enough for me to realize I’m not the tough girl I thought I was. Just the other day I was talking smack about being wimpy and not trying someone new. What is so hard about walking right by the old stylist to the new one, trying someone new, testing all talents until you find the perfect fit? Just walk by, let them know you aren’t settling for mediocre, you want glamor, you want rock, you want bangs, you want color, you don’t want mom jeans and 80’s hairspray explosion bangs, you want the world and you ARE willing to go to someone else if the first stylist just isn’t doing it for ya. You are even willing to cheat.

Right?

I would say I’ve never felt so odd, but I’m awkward and clumsy. I feel odd a lot, but this was high on the list. His chair just happened to be smack dab next to the chair I was in. With each past tense hair question, I sunk further into this new seat.

Me: Uhhh, well, don’t come as often as I should, guess I want something different. I know, the roots are pretty bad, it’s been like, errrr, 6 months. No, not too short, but a few inches off would be great, you know, the split ends. Oh, I don’t know, you are the professional, not me. Just want something a little more hip. Yup, came here last time. Umm, actually, HE did my hair last. (Insert awkward point to the stylist next to us.)

Her: Oh. Got it.

She knew I cheated.

He knew I was cheating.

What is so wrong with it and why do I have to feel so bad? I didn’t marry my stylist. I didn’t sign a contract. Was my first dye job really life binding?!?!

I DID feel bad. I DID feel awkward. I DID NOT like that feeling. I was guilty; caught red handed.

However, I DO love my new hair. For me, the cheating was totally worth it.

The question is, why do we feel bad about these things??? Have you ever cheated on the person that does your hair, your nails, someone you feel you should of been committed to? Was the cheating worth it or did you end up with a mullet? Have you ever been caught and what did you do? Do you want to cheat and need the extra push? Tell me cheating on a stylist is okay!!!!