On My Honor

I feel like I've had a string of bad luck with sucky people lately.

Mean people.

Selfish and controlling and immature people.

Where's the love?

If you start a conversation off with, "I don't mean to be a -insert B word or A word here- but..."
Then CHANGE what  you were going to say

 or don't say anything at all.

Since I've pursued photography more, I've run into some rude-ish photographers.  And it's funny because so many people in customer service complain about the costumers/clients but I've had nothing but amazing experiences with my clients.   I LOVE my clients.

What I have an issue with is other people complaining and not building each other up.

So I wanted to let everyone know,

On my honor, I will try-

To be nice.  To never start a conversation off with "I don't meant to be a B-word but...".  To encourage others.  To make others feel the best I can.  To be honest and never fake.  To not complain that it's a saturated market and put every other photographer down so I get the business.  To teach what I know.  To learn what I don't.  To refer other photographers to a potential client when I know I'm not the best fit.  To shake hands and give hugs.  To smile. To give back.

Because the world can be nice.

Because we make up the world.

Operation Selfish

My friend Melissa wrote me asking if it was cool if she designed a blog head thingy.

I mentioned her before, she DESIGNED all the decorations for the Lemonade Stand Party. And I swear every time she emails me I find out some incredible talent so I'm going to get her to quit her job and do the stuff that she LOVES doing and get paid for it.

So, seriously, if you want the most awesome-est birthday banners, invites, menus EVER, get in touch with her. (She has no idea that I'm writing this and forcing her into business so DON'T tell her I sent you! K?)

But that isn't why I'm writing, I'm writing because I was looking for a picture of me and the kids for the banner and guess what?

That picture doesn't exist. Seriously. Okay, I think I have TWO, one of which I took on my mac and got deleted when my hard drive crashed and the other I took OF MYSELF with my iphone when Charlotte was two days old... and lets face it, I'm not pretty after labor.

I have a BAZILLION of Geoff and the kids so now I'm getting sad and ask him to take pictures of me sometimes too because I'm their mom and if someone digs up our city in a bunch of years and finds pictures, I want MY FACE to be connected with MY KIDS. And that crap happens you know, we dig up cities and look at faces carved in stone and, well, put two and two together. So can't a mom have a picture with her kids? So he got all defensive and says he has to be TOLD to take a picture where I want him to just think we look cute and take our damn picture.

Soooo, I think I'm going to try to take a picture of my own freakin' self every day for a week. I was going to say a month but we all know I'm not that motivated right? My goal is to have ONE decent picture of ME and my two babies before they are eighteen.

Because we all know I'm not getting any cuter here.

I Blame Mrs. Green and Stephanie

That's right. I'm calling out names. LIKE real names. Not even making them up. Changing them for the innocent.

Because this is serious. A very serious subject matter and while I'm at it, feel free to include the names of any other cheerleading coach and captain you have ever known!

HEAR THAT?!?!

And before you get all crazy on me like "Don't start a rant on cheerleaders, we are ATHLETES damn it!" sort of crazy, let me just say, I WAS A CHEERLEADER TOO!

Okay, panties out of a knot? I love you guys! Cheerleading rocks

sometimes.

But not 12 years later.

I mean FOUR years later, think I'm old or something?

Let me also say that Mrs. Green and Stephanie were both awesome. Mrs. Green was my junior high cheer coach and taught me rhythm (though Geoff would argue otherwise) and Stephanie, well, actually I have another bone to pick with Stephanie.

There is this thing called a twist cradle. Sounds fun huh? Actually it was DEATH! It was terrible. I was the girl that would be on top of the pyramid or "flyer" in the cheer world and the big thing then was TWIST cradles. I'm sure cheerleading has changed a ton but if you weren't twisting like a crazy person down from your stunt, you weren't going to win your competitions. We liked to win so they would make me twist. I would stand on top of a few hands all high in the air with nothing but hard gym floor below me. Yeah, we didn't have a budget for mats and frankly the wrestling mats freaked us out; we were sure we were going to get ringworm from the wrestling room so instead of ringworm, we gambled on broken bones. YAY us, we were so smart! So yeah, there I am standing on a few hands high in the air and Stephanie would yell, "TWIST! 1-2" and right after two, I should be spiraling down from the stunt into their arms.

Don't even say this sounds easy. I would rather back flip into a rattlesnake pit than twist cradle! I would cry! Tears would stream down my eyes as they yelled, "HOLLY! TWIST!!! 1 2..."

See, aren't you mad at Stephanie already? I'm like building my case and all because I'm legal and professional.

Besides making me cry and trying to knock me off by making me twist to my death on hard floors, she would make us smile.

Stephanie AND Mrs. Green would make us smile.

"Smile! Okay, do this one while SMILING! Don't forget to smile! Smile at the judges! Smile during games! Smile at the crowd! Smile at all times!!!"

"Smile! Smile! Smile! Smile! SMILE! SMILE! SMILE!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

So we smiled until our cheeks hurt. We smiled through the pain! We smiled through the fear. We smiled because we HAD to.

And now at almost 30 years old I have the deepest set of laugh lines you have ever seen.

And can you guess who I blame for these?

Dear Cheerleaders: Don't smile.

Use that botox fund for something else. You're welcome.

Major Life Decision: Cursing

I'm not one to curse. In college, people would seriously offer me $5.00 to say the F-word. I just don't FEEL it. It just isn't natural. I don't care and am in no way offended when others throw the F-bomb around but it just isn't my style...

Until recently.

I feel like I have SOOOO much going on. I'm soooo busy and maybe a little stressed that when the smallest thing goes wrong turning a five minute task into a two hour job, I just want to SCREAM

the F-word.

So, should I take up cursing?

Example-

Yesterday Charlotte choked on a piece of banana and it freaked her out enough to cry for an hour straight. Her crying got Sawyer crying. I had two screaming kids. I gave them a bath to stop the screaming and Charlotte pooped in hers. I pulled her baby bath full of water and poop out of the big bath Sawyer was in and got her dressed. While in Charlotte's room, Sawyer filled Charlotte's bath that is now sitting on the bathroom floor up with water until it overflowed and poop filled water was all over the bathroom. Pulled Sawyer out, he cried for an hour until he found his blanket while I scrubbed every inch of that bathroom until it was all shit (oops, see, there it is!) free again.

We had to be in Denver for a doctor's appointment at noon so I packed up the kids, drove down the canyon, threw them in the double jogger and went for a run.

Because if anything was going to fix my morning, it was a nice run.

And now it's time for a letter:

Dear Cyclists-

I was jogging, pushing both my kids in a double stroller up hills on the widest path I've ever seen. You two were the second set of people to pass me in the 30 minutes I've been running at that point (And end up being the last people to pass me on that hour run). THE PATH WAS NOT BUSY. THE PATH IS VERY WIDE. I stayed to the right so anyone faster than me could pass me with no problems. Running is my release. It makes me happy, it makes me healthy, it gives me a little break from being a mommy and if I want my fucking music turned up, I can turn my fucking music up.

The wind was against us. I couldn't hear you very well while you were right next to me screaming without ANY music on so you think I could hear you when you were BEHIND me yelling into the wind. No chance. And, though none of your damn business, my music WASN'T very loud because I like to be able to hear my kids in case one started crying!

So don't you fucking tell me to run without music so I can hear you better. You had plenty of room to pass me, you were yelling into the wind on this super wide, non-busy path.

Next time to clear up the road, I'll sit on my ass all day, get fatter by the minute and let YOU pay my medical bills.

Because God forbid I turn my shitty morning around on a healthy run.

Fuckers.


So, yeah, I think I'm going to take up cursing. Thoughts?

True Stories

On the way home from teaching kickboxing I was singing Katy Perry super loud and my voice sounded TOTALLY amazing. I'm thinking I'm pretty much a rock star... then my ears popped.

Oh and it's Sawyer's third birthday. Happy Birthday to my Boy-o!

A Public Message from Safety Police

I wore a helmet while climbing the ladder in our living room with a paint can and brush in hand.

The car doesn't go into drive unless EVERYONE has their seatbelt on.

There is no talking or texting on the phone while driving with me. Ever.

I'm pretty much the safety police so when Geoff came home from skiing yesterday I drilled him making sure he didn't have beer before the drive home.

Later that night I headed to my kickboxing class and popped in the CD I would be using to teach. I have a 45 minute drive and look forward the the relaxing drive sans kids but last night was different.

The CD got me going.

I was pumped!

A minute later my head was bobbing.

Which led to some serious seat pop and locking. I was all JabbaWockeez up in that car.

And then noticed I was all up in someone's lane. Oops.

Back in my lane, I felt the music was calling my name, it was asking for some booty shake.

I gave that music some booty shake-look to the right, booty shake- look to the left.

The music blaring louder, "Boom I got your boyfriend, I got your man!" The pop and lockin' the booty shaking the-

Oops, back in someone's lane, small correction back to mine, look in the rear view mirror to make sure there were not any police behind me.

The music blared on. My dance moves were epic. My driving was...

Well, safety police would not have been thrilled. Don't Jabbawockeez and drive.

How do you know you're a clean freak?

My mom was a psycho clean freak growing up.

Now I know she REALLY is on the mental ill side, not joking BUT growing up we didn't see her as ill. We saw her clean things like a camera crew was going to burst into the door at any minute and any dust speck would equal a pubic lashing.

In all honesty I really enjoyed never having a dirty house. My clothes didn't stay in the hamper longer than a day. Sheets were washed once a week if not more. There was never, EVER a dirty dish in the sink. There was never a spot of food left in the sink. I could walk barefoot on the floors without a worry something might get stuck to the bottom of my foot. Our. House. SPARKLED.

On the flip side, my mother was not a mom. I can get into this... or not but I'll make it quick. We haven't spoke since I was in high school. She slipped into an incredible depression, she took lots of prescription drugs. She found her source of happiness in other men. She could of cared less about me and my brother. She was verbally and a handful of times physically abusive to me. In her words I was a cunt, a slut, a B-word (why is it that I can say cunt but not the b-word?), and no one would EVER love me. Basically she took her own fears and projected them onto me.

She took solace in cleaning. In all her months of depression and self-deprecation she still kept a sparkly clean house. Nothing was going to get in her way of an immaculate living space. I hurt my knee and was on crutches for a month and I guess when I walked or crutched my way away from the sink, I made a crease in the floor rug in front of the sink that sent her into such a rage, she ran after and and pushed me to the ground screaming.

My dad and step mom didn't care so much about hair on the floor or dishes in the sink but they cared about US. They cared about supporting our passions and being involved in our lives. They didn't sweep the floors twice a day but they made sure to attend every game and cheer practice.

I have WAY more fond memories of my dad and step mom in a not super clean house versus my mom and step dad in a crazy clean house.

Can I say something really quick: I'm not posting all this for anyone to feel sorry for the way we were raised, we are talking about CLEANING here! And really, growing up in a tough environment made me tougher, I'm actually appreciative of this. I knew I could depend on no one and got myself into college and became a pretty damn awesome person BUT I'm realizing I like things CLEAN.

And wonder, as much as I strived to be the EXACT opposite of my mother, how alike are we?

I like things more on the sparkly side.

I HATE stuff on the floor. If I feel uncomfortable barefoot then I have waited way too long to sweep the floor.

Speaking of cleaning the floor, Geoff wonders why I do it on my hands and knees (Okay, let the jokes roll in.), but no other method gives better results. I like it on my knees!

I'm not sure how many times I disinfect the counter daily.

I like all beds to be made every morning.

I vacuum at least ever other day if not every day.

I HATE dishes in the sink. NO DIRTY DISHES IN THE SINK EVER! EVER! It's weird because I could care less if I go somewhere and there are dirty dishes in the sink, I just can't stand it in MY sink.

Sheets must be washed once a week.

Kids rooms must look tidy and toys put away every night.

The living room must be clutter free before bed time.

I can't stand hair ANYWHERE. Hi, no animals in this house!

I'm not saying that our house is always clean. I have an almost three year old and an almost one year old. Once I clean something up, they mess it up, I find beauty in that. I hope to ALWAYS find beauty in that.

And, of course after a glass or two of wine all rules are thrown out the window!

Am I a clean freak?

Am I my mother?

What is normal in the cleaning house world as a mother? What is not? What is acceptable to YOU? What is not?

I guess ultimately I want to make sure my family feels comfortable in their own home and above that want them to know and FEEL that I am there for them and will happily take any sporting event, chess tournament or spelling bee they participate in over scrubbing the dinging room floor.

And never call them a cunt.

Point? Make sure my children are sporty and I'm well hydrated; wink, wink.

Brains After Baby?

I can remember my junior high cheerleading routine but can't FOR THE LIFE OF ME remember what I did yesterday.

The thingy (I'm very technical.) I use to plug into my ipod at work isn't long enough to be plugged in with the case ON my ipod. Every week I forget this small fact and try to jab the plug thingy into my ipod while the case is STILL on. Every week. Seriously.

I can remember that Sawyer left his "Bank-ette" (blanket) in the master bathroom but forget why I walked in the bathroom in the first place.

Tell me memory returns. Tell me...

Lets all sit at the round table and speak our mind.

Talk.

And vent.

I just wish that we can all chat it up and your comments could appear

here.

And HERE.


Here?

Basically wherever the hell you want to put them.


These pillows are really popular right now.

(Image from this Etsy shop.)

The "ampersand pillow"

And I want one. BAD. I love the look, it would look GREAT on my couch but can we all skip on the "ampersand" crap. I mean, it's an AND SIGN.

I feel like the ampersand people all went to a college for smart people, eat caviar while laying their pretty heads on ampersand pillows while I just went to a college for smart ENOUGH people but not smart enough to get into Stanford and only slightly smart because we call the ampersand an AND SIGN college and for sure am not eating fish eggs on my very plain couch.

My kids are exhausting me. They are fun and cute and I love them but they are exhausting. Sawyer will not play by himself to save a life and Charlotte wants to be held constantly.

Sawyer is more and more fun every day. He is funny, like REALLY FUNNY. He entertains me, makes me laugh, plays pretend. His favorite thing to do right now is throw the word "poop" into a random sentence and see how his listener reacts.

Frankly, it's hilarious and I'm thinking about joining him in this game at inappropriate times.

On the flip side, he makes me sooo tired. I'm in bed before 8pm on most nights and if I'm not the next day feels like a hangover without the fun night before.

But you guys are being all thankful and crap and here I am,

VERY THANKFUL.

I'm very thankful of my family but some days I want to call a sitter and ditch mom duties for a day.

I went to the OB the other week to make sure the vagina is still sunshine and rainbows and the OB asked the most hilarious question: What are you guys using for birth control?

Obviously she doesn't have a two year old.

I was venting to my friend on facebook last night. I was kinda pissy and knew she would join me in my evil schemes. When I was done chatting with her she said I'm glad you feel better.

Or something like that, I didn't print out our conversation but the point is, she totally changed my mood and HOW in the world was I suppose to win a fight when I'm all happy?

I told her THANKS FOR NOTHING.

Or something like that.

She probably got off the computer and put her happy head on an Ampersand pillow.

Some friend huh?
(Friend I chatted with last night, you know I still love you right?)


This is where I pass the mic to you. Chat it up. Let it out. I'm listening...

Forget it, I'm just writing this. Warning: I talk about periods.

The marathon is this Sunday.

As in a few days away.

As in

A

FEW DAYS

AWAY!

And I'm doing the period dance. After Sawyer, my cycle became a lot heavier and more crampy and then times that by five after pushing out Charlotte. I'm due for it in a few days, like MARATHON DAY and if that is when little miss evil chooses to make her appearance, this marathon is going to SUCK.

So, do a dance with me.

I'm also really pissy.

PMS related? No, couldn't be, right?

I'm just all annoyed with people. People I haven't even met or talked to in my life, close friends, EVERYONE! I just feel like people are sooo disappointing.

And here is the kicker: people that open their mouth way too much I'm REALLY annoyed at.

Are you seeing the irony? Basically I'm mad at anyone like me. I mean, really?

So I'm kinda staying quiet because my intention is not to tear anyone down and DAMN am I good at that.

So, this is me quiet. Anyone else hate me or is it just me?

Because I'm awesome.

Confuse-a-cat.

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!!!!

Mean Girls

Last night the hubby and I were watching some guys on TV fire things at each other's balls.

I know, quality.

I said that I didn't get boys, "They are SOOO mean!"

"What do you mean BOYS are mean, girls are SOOOO much more mean!"

More quality, right?

But he is right, not to offend any of my fellow ladies, but we are EVIL. We don't aim for physical harm, we aim for emotional and psychological, you know, the kind that doesn't heal with a cast and where the pain lingers on much longer.

While I don't think aiming for others emotions are the best way to vent our insecurities, I also think if we were to all fire at each other's vaginas, we wouldn't have enough V-Strength to give birth and the world population would come to an end.

In honor of saving the world population (Because I'm awesome.), I thought we could all use a little confession time, you know, like we are all good church girls (And boys, guess you guys can play too...).

I call it, "Meanest thing you've ever EVER Done and may or may not Regret."

This is going to be such a fun game! And no judging.

Confession:

In fourth grade (P.S. I can't believe I'm telling you guys this, I feel horrible.), I spit in this girl's face because I thought (and maybe even told her) she was ugly.

Yeah, yikes huh?

After, I cried at her mercy and begged her not to tell on me.

She didn't.

I wish I remembered her name because I bet she is some Victoria Secret model all hot and rich with perky boobs. AND, I am happy for her if that is the case because the bottom of my boobs fall asleep at night from the saggy booby cutting off skin circulation and I'm sure Victoria Secret doesn't want any of that crap on their runway.

That is my confession...


Ohhh, YOUR TURN!

Remember, this is to save the population. No pressure.

Finally a Job I Qualify For!

(Click image to enlarge.)

Brown Town

I told her either super blonde or brown and she was like, "Are you sure, we can do low lights and ..."

No low lights, no halving it, it's all or nothing. You choose, brown as in ALL OVER BROWN, or blonder .

She went brown with me and I LOVE it!



P.S. Check out how fat my face is! It looks like I stored all of Canada in my cheeks.

Boys and Breakups

I was listening to the radio the other week when Michelle Branch came on. I don't know what it is, perhaps the time she rode in the back of a truck playing the piano, but I LOVE her. I paused internal conversation to hear her song. I mean, hasn't she been missing since like 1999? This is what I heard:

"Sooner or later you're going to come around
and you'll be sorry when you figure out
that I was always everything that you needed.
Sooner or later, you're going to wish you had me."

Internal conversation resumed but let me fast forward from that moment to a day last week...

My bestest friend wrote me a message really upset. Her good friend was incredibly angry with her and and decided the way to let her know was unfriending her from facebook. Let me tell you, this has happened to me before and I think it's the most immature way to deal with issues EVER. If you have a problem, voice it, if you choose not to, kiss our ass (Yup, I cursed, it happens when I'm mad or passionate) and get over it yourself. Okay, what was I saying again? My friend is mad... okay, right. SO, she end up getting in contact with the immature girl and asking what the hell is going on. Basically it was a whole crap ton of he said, she said boiling down to one specific rumor: A girl never got over a boy and wished she married boy one and not boy two. This rumor was false and everyone found out it was started by boy one's brother and then pinned to my friend as the scape goat and this would of boiled in everyone's veins if my friend didn't seriously confront the issue. No news if they are back to face book friends.

Lets rewind again, but just two days before the unfriend facebook incident. Are you still with me? This all does have a point.

Geoff asked me to find his social security card. This is not an easy task. I'm not very organized, I'm not known for my organizational skills. They say when one person lacks a specific skill, many times their significant other will take over in that arena to compensate for the other person. I have become MUCH more organized since marrying Geoff. I knew I was in for a treat when searching for this card. I went though the envelope I keep all our important stuff in, marriage certificate, birth certificates, social security for me and Sawyer, passports and such but no social security card was to be found with my husband's name on it. The search continued. Boxes, envelopes, files, folders, I pushed on. I pulled a small box from the corner and start searching through the contents, old valentines cards from me (Oh man, I just realized he is going to KILL me if he reads this. Shhh bloggy friends, don't tell him I'm writing about this!) and... AND, let me take a breath, pictures and cards and letters... not from me... from his EX GIRLFRIENDS! It was his EX Girlfriend box!

Stop for a minute: What would you do, right here, right at this moment? Discovery of the box. THE BOX. What would you do?

I looked through the pictures, started reading the cards and my stomach hurt. I don't think this would be a big deal if my husband just got with chicks and hooked up whenever but he wasn't that guy. He is sensitive and loving and when he invests his feelings in someone, he is all in. I knew these were just girls but girls he probably loved. Girls that hurt him, broke his heart, made him cry, made him think, made him re-evaluate things in his life. Made him think things like in that Michelle Branch song, would one person wind up sorry that the other moved on? Would one wish they had the other?

Email exchange:

Me: I'm over looking for your card. Done. In the process I found the ex-girlfriend box and I'm totally grossed out! The search is all you!

Him: Uh-oh. Am I in trouble?

Me: No, I know you had girlfriends, I'm not dumb, I just don't want to find them tucked into some corner of OUR bedroom. P.S. I'm WAY cuter!


He had girlfriends before me. Of course he did. I had a boyfriend before him... well, long before I met him and I only had one boyfriend ever before I met my hubby, so whatever, point is, I HAD ONE TOO! He was someone I loved, someone who broke my heart and someone I thought I could always end up with but time goes by and people get smarter. When I met Geoff, the EXACT day I met him, I knew he was someone I could be with forever. I knew. People say you will know and I called them liars until that day. Geoff was someone different. There is not anyone on this planet more perfect for me than Geoff. If I had not flown to Denver that day, not gone out because I felt bloated, declared it a night in because everyone else flaked on plans, I would have never met the most perfect man for me, I won't say that I have never thought about my ex or other boys I liked but never once have I thought they will one day wish they had me and obviously I don't wish I had them. Life happens and takes you places and people get hurt and people fall in love and one day I think you get to a point where things fall into place, your life is what it should be and all past experiences led you to this most perfect place.

To put it in a nutshell, I think Michelle Branch's song is bull.

If someone broke up with you, didn't try hard enough to make a relationship work, they don't like you. It's soooo simple. Why do we wonder what things mean, why so and so did something that didn't make sense, not call you back, not treat you the way you wanted, bailed on a date? The excuses go on and on on. Simply, they don't like you. They. Don't like. You.

Move on.

In my opinion, "Sooner or later" they AREN'T going to come around. They won't be sorry when they figure out. That you (or I) were not what they what they needed and they aren't going to wish they had us. And I don't wish I had them. Do you? And I know my husband doesn't either. It doesn't matter if there are a few pictures in our room. Those pictures can be a reminder that without the other girls, there wouldn't be me. Life without Geoff is something I couldn't bear and all those moments, love and sadness on both ends brought us to a point in our life where we met, maybe the best day ever. And my friend's friend doesn't wish she married her first boyfriend. She doesn't. And if all we did was live in the past, what a boring and grey life we would lead.

However, I do think that a song like Michelle Branch's song keeps you standing when all you want to do is fall. Keeps your head on your neck when all you want to do is fall apart but sooner or later you're going to figure out that life is totally awesome, even the crappy parts. Though, at that moment of anger, you want wish in the future you could look back at that one person who broke you, point and laugh in their face but when future comes, you are too happy to be vengeful to someone else and most likely, that other person could care less.

OR am I wrong. Do you wish you had someone? Did you let someone go you should not have? Have you made a relationship mistake you would do anything to take back? Did you sit back while someone you loved said "I do" to someone that was not you?

Let me know... sooner or later.

Sewing still sucks.

But I'm buying a sewing machine. I know, I told you I'm a nut job!

Okay, so remember all that trouble I had and how many days it took me to thread a needle and how I wanted to sock sewing in the face? (No? Recap here.)

Well, I still might give it a good punch in the nose but as much trouble as all that needle and thread crap is, cool things come out of frustration and fake curse words. It also doesn't help that I'm picky and want things that cost thousands of millions of dollars that you can make for like 5 cents and a sewing machine and patience. It's that patience thing I REALLY need to invest in!

Example: Crib bedding. Yeah, so baby two is on its little way and I want it to be a girl so I'm looking at girl stuff in case this thing inside me IS missing a penis (No, we don't know yet, I'm just wishful internet browsing.) and all the crib bedding I like cost more than most mortgages. It's outrageous!

So check out this one. I love the ruffles and girliness of it. I LOVE the crib skirt and the thickness of the bumper but. $1,900?! I don't think so.



And check out this one. I love how long and flowy the crib skirt is and how simple and elegant the color and fabric is. $816? I don't think so!


Okay, last one. Check it out, doesn't even look cute, you can't even SEE the crib bedding but they expect you to shell out, are you ready, $3,370.00!!!! Who does this?! Don't you people remember the amazing, exploding poop diapers that starts at about 3 months?! In no way am I going to set something down in $3,000 bedding that craps down it's leg and barfs without realizing it!



So, yeah, in no way am I going to PAY that kind of money, I would much rather make it myself but that means you guys are going to have to listen to me complain throughout the whole process. (Or you can band together and buy me one of the first two and I'll spare you the fake cursing...) No, really, don't buy them, you can feel like all of Africa for that kind of money. Point is, I'm buying a sewing machine and you can't stop me. Neener ,neener, ha ha.

Oh and check out how awesome I am. This post requires you all to comment and reassure me that I am indeed out of this world and a superstar sewer. I actually GOT the damn stocking done. It's done. It's done and people were't lying, that thing takes up your time. I'll say easily about 75 hours of sewing went into this thing. Nutso. Don't try that at home boys and girls.




Don't let the details go unnoticed. Everything is stuffed or 3-D. The face is hand stitched (Is that the right lingo?) and even the BACK of Santa is finished and 3-D. Crazy huh? (Don't forget to tell me how awesome I am.)


The two ornaments at the bottom and attaching the front to back took eight hours in a row. EIGHT! Doesn't it kinda look like an iceskating outfit threw up on Christmas and this is the outcome?! I love SEQUINS! (Oh yeah, in case I have not mentioned it, don't forget to tell me how totally rocking I am.)



A big thanks to Aurora at Green is the New Black and Jenny at Jenny's Australian Needleart Journey. Without tips from these two, this thing would be a pile of felt in my trashcan. I owe you guys a night of drinking!

Craft Whore in Progress

In my effort to be the worlds greatest Craft Whore, I went to Michaels in search for ingredients to make a stocking. I have been to this store a few times, once I walked out nervous knowing I was WAY over my head. Next time I sat in the isle reading a book repeating 'I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.' and the last time, I went back for more paper. Eventually I was left with homemade invitations for Sawyer's birthday party that looked... like, uh, I made them?

So, I went back cause I'm street like that and I can handle my own AND left in fear yet again. How does this store do it, it's so damn intimidating?! There are all these ladies in there that walk around with mini carts full of things I've never head of or seen and they have vision. THEY HAVE VISION. The see stuff. I think it's almost like psychic math, something plus this plus sparkles plus other things will equal A NEW CAR! I mean, how do they do it? HOW DO YOU DO IT?!?! I want to be crafty! I want to have a talent, maybe even have other people purchase my services, I want to be a craft whore too!

I'm just not. How hard is it to make a stocking? When I was little, I had the cutest stocking, it had my name on it, and all sorts of sequins, and it had a pocket with a removable Santa and all sorts of other Christmasy things. See, my brother didn't have a stocking like that, he had a, dare I say it, STORE BOUGHT ONE! I knew that because mine was homemade and his was store bought that my parents liked me better. It's just truth. I speak truth. My family is not incredibly talented, no one is craft whorish so this stocking had to be easy right?!?!

I saw no easy stocking recipe in sight. I figured they would have kits, you know like they have cookie dough in a tube if you suck at baking, why don't that have you suck at crafting, craft kits for people like me?!?! I want to fake it!!! After not seeing any kits and realizing that I didn't even own a needle and thread that I was indeed in the wrong place. People looked at me but no one asked if I needed help. I mean, even the people in J Crew ask if you need help and you don't really need help but there I was, lost and scared and alone and NO ONE OFFERED HELP!!!!

I walked out deflated, yet again. Michaels, you win but I'll be back, I'm a sore loser and I'll fight dirty.

Sugar and Spice, but not really that Nice

The server walked up to the three of us, reached one of the drinks over to me and said, "Let me take a WILD guess, the pomegranate martini is yours?"

Me- "Nope"

Geoff raises his hand the the server rotated his arm and placed the martini in front of my husband.

Server- "Okay, then THIS one is yours."

I turned it down before he set the dirty martini in front of me, Geoff's friend nods his head, claiming the drink as his.

Server- "Okay, so the beer is, uhhh, wow. Here you go."

Me- "Yup, it's just us BOYS hanging out!"

Cheers.

He laughed and said just when you can predict a drink order, you get it all wrong. Told a story about a prissy girl who ordered a Bud Light while the three guys she was with ordered girly drinks.

I said I would never do Bud Light while sipping my cold Shilling.

He laughed. I'm sure he considered me prissy, he looked a little shocked but the truth is, I'm way more boyish than people expect, and sometimes it's not so funny.

I've mentioned it before, but I have a VERY masculine form of communication. I do and yes, there are different styles and yes, there are even long tests you can take to see which side you tend to lean into (or stumble and fall in my case). Most likely you don't need a test. I'm not very sensitive, I say exactly how I feel and many times a little too harshly. I'm a fixer. I don't listen, I am thinking of ways to FIX your problem. I've realized there are very few times I listen, and those times usually circle around a tragic loss, something you had no control over or if you are giving me directions. Outside of tragedy and directions, I'm a fixer, and truth teller and people are not the biggest fans of those kind of people, nope, not at all.

My friend said it's hard to have a blog and not write about the latest fight her and her husband got into, or how pissed off she is at her neighbor, knowing her neighbor might read and said post might create a rift that can't be brought together again. Sometimes your emotions are a lot stronger and words a lot more hurtful than they should be for such events. Yes, it's hard to not get on here and complain about how pissed I am at someone or something, but the truth is, if my husband had a blog and he wrote how often I annoyed him, I'm sure his blog would be full of colorful post that hurt me badly. Sometimes I'm not a cup of tea.

For instance, my husband just wanted to vent, get a little support, get some loving words from his kind and thoughtful wife.

My response to his venting? "Work harder. It's not going to happen as you sit here complaining to me. Obviously you aren't doing enough to make it happen."

Ouch.

Ummm, yeah. That is really what I said. He walked out of the room and didn't talk to me for hours. I wasn't upset, sad, bummed, hurt, nothing. I went on like normal and as I thought about it, just hoped maybe my words made him upset enough to trigger an action button.

He didn't need a trigger, he needed someone to listen, to understand, to be a sounding board and found the wrong person.

I never said sorry but he did. How awesome is my husband?! How sucky is his wife?

My friend called me yesterday. Talked about why she is upset with her 'boyfriend'. Umm, this guys is NOT her boyfriend. Just about every time she asked me a question regarding his actions I said, "Well, it's because he doesn't care about you, AT ALL. Zero."

She was silent and I continued, "When was the last time he called you just to say hi or ask how you are doing?"

Silence.

"It's because he doesn't love you. He doesn't like you. He doesn't care for you, so just stop it already. It's ridiculous".

Silence.

See how good I am at this?! I realized at that point I needed to stop. "Okay, sorry, I know you don't like to talk about this with ME, I'm the WORST person to talk to. "

Sometimes common sense will hit me before my friend will but it's not often.

Last night, my manhood was okay, I sipped a beer, but only to not feel the pain of being a female (Hello, cramps?!?!) and realized how lucky I am to have friends and family that love me and deal with me, harsh or not, prissy or boyish and promised to never change, and if I do change, change just enough to be manageable, maybe a better listener, but for sure not enough to drink Bud Light.

Random Crap

Sometimes I like these random posts because the tidbits are short and to the point. This is what's goin' on.

I have 'Git it gurllll, git it, git it gurlllll' in my head. I'm not sure what song that is from but I wanted to put that as my comment of almost every post I have read in the last few days. Unfortunately, I think I'm the only one who would understand my comment. If I haven't commented on your post recently, it's because I calmy refrained from typing hip hop lyrics into your blog. It's a good thing, trust me!

I need to go though with things. Do you guys have this problem? I get all excited and plan grand goals then get all distracted.

That might be because I sing, 'git it gurllll, git it, git it gurrllllll...' all day! Damn.

I'm officially personal training at the gym I teach aerobics at. I'm super excited. I L-O-V-E this gym. If you live in Denver, you NEED to check out this gym. I think the big difference with this gym and others is the people that work there. They just treat everyone like a best friend, instructors, trainers, members, janitors. It makes everyone happy. I'm always happy at this gym.

I'm really into St. Germain right now. MUST try it. Even all my Mormon peeps can try it I believe. I think it's no or lowwww alcohol, and YUM to the YUMMY! MUST TRY St. Germain! But for everyone who shares a past time as awesome as mine...aka-drinkin', you must add the goods, if you know what I mean. Git it gurlll, git it git it gurrrrllll!

My husband might has a job prospect somewhere outside of Colorado. This makes me happy and sad. Happy because we can't barter with the credit companies. 'I'll give you a six pack and skinny white baby if you just take away our debt...' Sooooo, one of us needs a job that pays the bills. Again, BORING. But, a prospect is nice. I just don't want to move away from here. I don't. It's in the early stages, but if this does happen, I'll be really sad. When I first moved to Denver, I hated it. I didn't have any close friends, hobbies, anything. I love my life now, I love where I'm at, I love everything going on around our family. Sooo, yeah.

Everyday I feel incredibly lucky that I have a healthy, happy baby and if you do, you should too. Do you know how many people lose their babies everyday? Stop complaining about the small things and feel blessed. I wish I had a magic wand and could grant people the wish of happy families. If I could do anything in the world, it would be granting couples that wish.

I've gained ten pounds since our vacation. How much Rum does that equate to???


I love you all!

Peace, love and spinach salad,

Me.