The Play Room

It felt like old times. I didn't have to work at my second job today, and Maddie was at school. Nice. Really nice. Kinda what the whole Mother's Day Out is all about.

I started thinking about what I was going to do, and it hit me. We are in the process of building a house. That means packing. That means going through junk, in order to pack. That means I better get busy.

I couldn't decide what room to start in, and then I thought, What room/closet would I be most embarrassed for my mom to help me clean?

Since putting anything in Maddie's closet is an Olympic feat, that's where I started.

The top layers were pretty easy to go through. They pretty much consisted of her most recent clothes. I just set them aside to list on eBay.

It was when I got to the baby clothes, that I started having a hard time. I found the dress she wore the first time I took her to church. I found her first tennis shoes. I found her entire first year's wardrobe.

Should I get rid of this? What if she wants to know what she wore when she was a baby? What if I have another baby?

Yes. I'll show her pictures. I'm sure Target will still be around.

And, off to GoodWill went everything. Almost. I kept the dress she wore home from the hospital. I kept all of the clothes my mom made for her. That's it.

After I got all of my piles situated, guess what I found. It's been four years since I lost it. Go on. Guess. I'll wait.





THE FLOOR!! It was right where I left it.

Then, I proceeded to place Maddie's toys in it, and made her a new play area. She wasn't nearly as impressed with it as I was.

Until I gently shoved her in the closet, handed her a flashlight, shut the doors and told her to have fun.

She loved it once she figured out how to open the doors.

Who knew? I'm thinking I like the idea of her new play room. If it only had a lock.

My Confession

We meet weekly with a group of people from our church, for dinner and we sometimes get around to discussing the book we are supposed to read. Any given Sunday night, there are 4 or 5 couples, with up to 6 kids running around.

We just started this a few months ago, and everyone is still trying to get to know one another. It's fun, but there are times that you can tell everyone is holding back from being who they really are.

This last Sunday night, we were sitting around the dinner table. The conversation turned to television and how trashy it is. Then, someone mentioned how bad reality tv is.

I took a deep breath. These people need to know the real me. I can do this.

"I live vicariously through reality tv."

There. I said it.

They laughed. Then, they started talking about they like Survivor and the Amazing Race- I'm assuming to make me feel better. But, my addiction to reality shows goes much deeper.

I want to say that I'm adept in the kitchen, so I watch Top Chef.

I want to say that I keep up with fashions and the top designers, so I watch Project Runway.

I watch Real Housewives of New York- just in case we ever win the lottery and we need to vacation in the Hamptons.

I'm hooked on America's Next Top Model, because the modeling world fascinates me.

I watch Work Out, hoping to get some new workout tips. Which I might, if the trainers would stop making out with each other.

So You Think You Can Dance, Flip This House, Survivor, Shear Genius- I watch them all.

My name is Chelsea, and I'm hopelessly addicted to reality television.

I need a life. Badly.

Relaxation Is Over Rated

Sunday night. After 5 really long weeks, I finished real estate school. I decided to treat myself. With my favorite pasttime.

A really hot, really bubbly, bubble bath.

The water was steamy. I had a book nearby. The bubbles were up to my ears. Eyes were closed.

Total relaxation.

"Mommy? Can I sit right here on the potty?"

"Um, why don't you go color?"

"But, Mommy, I like to spend time with you. I want to talk about my day."

How could I tell her to get out? How could I refuse to talk to her? Especially, when I haven't really spent as much time with her, as I usually do?

So, we talked. About her favorite princess, her best friend, Johnny Cash, horses, when she can visit her Gram, and God.

"Mommy- can I get in the bath with you? I won't splash."

"Sure. Hop on in."

I figured the conversation would continue. I should have known better.

"Mommy- just lay your head on the bath tub. Pretend you're asleep. I'm the mommy. Go to sleep, baby."

Taking advantage of the situation. I tried to get back to my zen- like state. I closed my eyes. My muscles started relaxing one by one.

AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!! What the ????

Yep, my little darling had filled a cup of ice cold water and poured it. Right in my lap.

Next time she wants to talk- I'm sending her to Justin. It can wait.

Fisney

"Congratulations, Justin, I'm so and so from the local newspaper. You recently filled out a contest sheet, and your entry was selected. You won a $5oo gift certificate to the Disney store."

He called to tell me the good news. I had visions of stockpiling Christmas and birthday gifts. I planned on selling lots of the good stuff on eBay, because when someone is building you a house, they would rather have cash and not Disney goods. I was even going to let Maddie get a real princess dress up outfit- you know, the one that costs a gabillion dollars.

Then he told me that it had to be used in the rapidly depreciating mall, right around the corner. And this is the last weekend The Disney Store is going to be open. The gift certificate was only available at this one particular store, which I thought was really strange. But, at least we would be able to get even more stuff, due to the store closing sales.

Our weekend is so incredibly busy, the only chance we would have to go spend our $500, was Friday night. We arrived, ready to shop.

"Mommy, where are all of the toys?"

We talked to the manager. Her first words, "So, do you think you'll be able to find $500 worth in here?" Not a good sign.

I asked about going to a different Disney store.

"Well, this is not really a Disney store anymore. We are a wholesale group that sells discontinued items from Disney."

Great. I was expecting something like Macy's and got T.J. Maxx. It was Fisney. Fake Disney.

We started shopping.

"Sure you can have that. It's only $.89, why don't you get a few of them. Maddie, look at this Tink shirt. They don't have your size, but they do have an adult small- do you think you'll still like it when you are 20?"

It was a lot harder to spend the $500 than I thought I would. Pens, coffee cups, stamps, shirts that don't fit yet, and gigantic popcorn tubs- we got 'em.

In fact, if you went to Disney World in '06 and forgot to get a snowglobe, let me know. I'm sure there's one around here somewhere.

What Are They Teaching Her?

Everything was going great. It was Maddie's check up yes, I know 4 months late, and the doctor was on time, no shots were needed, everything was just peachy keen in out little part of the world.

Then, the doctor said the phrase I was dreading.

"We just need a urine sample. Maddie, you go potty and your mommy will catch it, okay?"

We tried this at last year's appointment. It didn't happen. Tears happened, pee in the cup, however, did not.

I was willing to give it a shot, so off we went.

She tried. She really did. But there just was no action. After several minutes of being on my knees in the bathroom, I knew I needed to kick start the process.

"Maddie, hop off. I need to go. Just stand right there while I go pee pee." If I hear someone else peeing, I automatically have to go. I hoped it was going to work.

I was doing my thing, and Maddie interrupted me,

"Mommy, STOP!" I stopped.

"Do you have to go, now?"

"No. How about we put your pee pee in the cup and tell the doctor it's mine."

Who is this child?

She is four and already knows the concept of passing a drug test. But, I know the signs. She hasn't been withdrawn, no bloodshot eyes, no extreme munchies, and she really hasn't been out of my sight for extended periods of time.

Wait. Extended care. While I'm at work.

It's gotta be the day care. I knew I shouldn't have enrolled her in it. Do we really know these kids? Who are her friends? There's no telling what they've taught her.

I'm doomed.

Who's Your Fave?

Beware!

This is a lame post. I don't feel very well at all, and I don't have the energy to think of anything witty or snarky. I'm headed to the doctor tomorrow. I really think it all relates to that dang nachos bellgrande chip being stuck in my throat.

I'm on a mission. I need new blogs to read. And, I'm asking for your help.

I try to read a couple of new blogs everyday. My method is to usually find a really good blog list on someone else's blog and randomly pick one. Kellan's list is awesome, by the way. And, while that's fun and all, I like to take advice from friends every now and then.

Do you know of another blog list that rocks?

How about one of your favorite blogs, or even your own?

Go ahead. Nominate someone.

Linky love will follow.

Now, I'm off to bed.

Told you it was going to be lame, but I'm glad you stuck around to read the rest.

Bless His Heart

Justin, Maddie and I went to a meeting tonight about joining our church. We've been going to it continuously since October, so we thought it was about time. I think that since we've started going, we've missed maybe 3 or 4 services.

So, based on us going almost every weekend for 6 months, that means we've been to this particular church 20ish times. Give or take a few.

We arrived to the meeting being held in the cafe, right beside the auditorium that we've visisted 20ish times. I was getting us a table and Justin headed to the bathroom, which, I might add, he's been to 20ish times.

We were sitting at our table, and Justin leaned over to me.

"Do you know what I just realized? I went into the women's bathroom. I couldn't figure out where the urinals were, and I just saw a woman coming out of the bathroom I went to."

I did what any wife would do and laughed out loud, right in his face. I figure that he's had his share of laughing at me, and I was due a turn.

I walked by the bathroom, just to see if there was anything confusing about it. Maybe a small sign, maybe the skirt didn't look like a skirt, maybe the "wo" was scratched out.

Nope.




Darling- take a look, and pay attention. This is the sign that goes on the WOMEN'S bathroom.

And, if this ever happens again, and you get arrested for it, I'll not only laugh harder, I'll let your mom come bail you out.

I Get It

In college, my roommate and I pretty much lived off of Taco Bell. Most specifically, Nachos BellGrande. The chips, the cheese, the refried beans, the grade D beef. You just can't beat it. Especially when you are 20, and your metabolism lives off of that junk.

Over the years, I've almost completely cut out the Bell. I still get the craving for it, though, every once in a while. But, I've started noticing strange things happening every time I get one of those Nachos BellGrande.

1.) A couple of years ago, I was on my way to work and needed one. I was behind a car, waiting to pull out into the road. The car in front went, my BellGrande started slipping out of the seat, I tried to save it, the car in front of me stopped. I didn't. I rear ended a car, trying to save my nachos.

2.) After a 6 month stretch of being a vegetarian, I quit. I figured that if I was going to eat meat again, I might as well jump in with both feet, and eat the really bad stuff. Remember this? Probably not because I think only my mom and Justin read my blog at this time. Here's your chance.

3.) On Thursday, my boss and I stopped at Toxic Hell, and I just had to get- you guessed it- a Nachos BellGrande. I was eating it, stale chips and all, and a small piece got caught in my throat. I drank tea. I coughed. I ate more nachos. I think I got it out. But, my throat hurts so incredibly bad. It must have scratched it pretty bad. I can hardly swallow without making a crazy face.

We've been reading this devotional book for our small group in church. This week's chapter was about how God doesn't always speak to you in a deep James Earl Jones voice and tell you exactly what he wants you to know. It is up to each person to listen to what God is trying to tell you- whatever means he uses.

God- I hear you. Loud and clear. No more Nachos BellGrandes. Now, do you think you can fix my throat and make it stop hurting?

'preciate it.

Romance

It's that time of year again. The "I have nothing to wear" season. Luckily, I have a daughter that loves to shop.

Maddie loves to help me pick out clothes. The only problem is that she likes the really loud, garish colors. I, on the other hand, like muted solids.

Every dress she saw, she told me that I would be beautiful in. It looked like something she




would wear. And, that's not really my thing.

Then, she started saying something that had everyone laughing.

"Mommy, isn't this dress romantic?" Everything was romantic to her. The dresses, the shoes, the earrings. They were all ro-man-tic. Classic Maddie.

At the last store, she was driving me crazy- running in and out of racks, dancing to the music and asking why they weren't playing Johnny Cash. I sent her on a mission.

"Maddie- I need some pants. Look on this and this rack of clothes and find a size 4 for me, m'kay?"

And, she was off.

A couple of minutes later, she walked over to me with a dress. A sleeveless, black dress that was just my style.

I grabbed it up, looked at the price tag, $54.99. Nope, can't spend that much today. Wait a minute. . .

"Maddie, where did you find this dress?"

"Right there. With the sign of a 5 and a 9 and a 9. Is it romantic?"

"Definitely romantic"

A $55 dress for $6 is so romantic, I think I'm in love.

Good-Bye? Friend?

Do me a favor. Think of your closest childhood friend. Are you still friends? If not, and you ran into her one day, would you be able to pick up your friendship like it never stopped? Or, would it be an uncomfortable moment for both of you?

Me? I don't know. To any of those questions.

We met in 7th grade, and became fast friends. It continued through high school. Very few weekends passed that we didn't spend at each other's houses. I was just as much at home at her house as I was at mine, and I think she felt the same.

We kept in touch throughout college. But, like lots of friends, we drifted further and further apart. We would call each other about once a month and catch up. Eventually, that led to phone calls about every other month. Then every now and then.

About 8 years ago, my friend started going through some rough times. She told me that she had been having flashbacks from her childhood that I found hard to believe. A few years later, she developed a life threatening disease. She met and married the man of her dreams, but a few months into the marriage, he became abusive and she got a divorce.

The list goes on and on.

While she was going through all of this, I tried to be a good friend. I called. I left messages. I did what I could.

I believed her. Turns out, I shouldn't have.

A couple of years ago, I became suspicious. Her stories that she told were so outrageously crazy, I had a hard time believing anything she said. I'm not going to go into details, because I don't know who reads this, and if they have been lied to, it's my friend's resposibility to come clean.

My suspicions were confirmed. I found out that very little, if anything, she told me about what she was going through is true. I found out that she lied about me. And to me, about people I care about.

So, of course, I started wondering- was our friendship ever true? When did she start the lying?

I received a text message from her yesterday, asking how my week was going.

I wanted to tell her that we broke ground on our house. I wanted to tell her that I'm almost done with real estate school. I wanted to tell her that I've started a new job.

I wanted to tell her that I know. Everything. Was. A. Lie.

But, instead, I told her that everything was fine.

Should I tell her? Should I pretend everything is fine? Would she just tell me another lie about why she told the first one? What if I believe her? What if she reads this blog and we go through a "I know that you know that I know that you know. . ." thing.

What if we are no longer friends?

Were we ever? Really? Friends?

Now- For Your Viewing Pleasure

I think she just about covers it.



And, I love practical jokes. Do you have any idea how hard I would laugh if I actually witnessed this? The last couple of women are insanely funny.

NOT How I Planned My Morning

I officially started my new job today. I had my morning planned.

This is what I get for actually trying to plan my morning.

8:18 Fueled my system with gas station coffee. Aaahhhh. Just what I needed. At 6:50.
8:15 Dropped Maddie off 15 minutes later than planned.
8:00 Left apartment. No matter what.
7:55 Inside. Again. Forgot wallet.
7:53 Walked out. Again.
7:51 Walked back in. Forgot to brush both Maddie's hair and teeth. Somehow remembered to do mine
7:50 Walked out of the house to take Maddie to school and head to work.
7:40 Dangdangdang- forgot to walk the dog. Walked the dog. Treat to the dog.
7:35 "No. Not that. Something else. Spring shirt. Pants. Go."
7:32 Started ironing "Maddie, it's your choice. Pick out your clothes today."
7:30 Decided what I was going to wear to my first official day at work.
7:20 Crap- "Maddie, we need to leave in 25 minutes. Hop to it!"
7:15 I looked over a couple of blogs, fixed Maddie breakfast.
7:00 Made an emergency call to Justin. No answer.
6:50 I BROKE MY COFFEE POT!!!

9:15 P.M. Stopped at Target to get new coffeepot.

I refuse to have another morning without it.

Whatever Works

When I was trying to find a dentist for Maddie, I did what most first time moms do. I asked my friends who they take their kids to. Most of the people I asked take their kids to a family dentist, but I kept having fond memories of a big wooden airplane that my sisters and I would fight over in our pediactric dentist's office.

It was awesome. White, with red trim. One could sit in the front, two in the back. It was almost as much fun as being the one to push the button on the elevator.

Fond memories. And, I wanted that for Maddie. Something fun. Sure, I wanted the dentist to be certified and all of that stuff, but I wanted her to want to go to the dentist. If only for the toys.

Boy, did I hit the mother lode.

It is every future princess' dream come true. Every wall is painted like a castle, complete with dragons, Cinderella's mice, and life size knights. The waiting room actually has a castle, that the kids can play in. Each little room has video games, kitchens, puzzles, you name it and it is there.

It totally beats the wooden airplane we fought over.

In fact, I think next time I'll get us there about 30 minutes early, just so she can play. And, I can actually read an entire magazine. From now on, I'm choosing doctors, dentists, optometrists, etc. based solely on their waiting rooms.

She had an appoitment today, to get a cavity filled. Before we went, she was having a hard time listening and getting dressed.

"Maddie, if you don't get dressed, you cannot go to the dentist today."

It worked. And that's what it's all about.

Finding something that your kids really like, so you can threaten to never let them do it again.

Please tell me I'm not the only one that does this.

How To Guide

If you want to gain 2 pounds in 2 days, eat everything I ate this weekend. I'll show you the way.

Saturday:

Cereal- not too bad
donut- start of something bad
granola bar- to make up for the donut
3 slices of leftover pizza- it was mushroom, so I get some credit for that, right?
coffee- lots and lots of coffee
1 more slice of pizza- cold

Dinner Saturday at favorite bbq restaurant:

Ribs
BBQ pork
roasted chicken
cole slaw
mashed potatoes
sweet cornbread roll
french fries
big bite of chocolate ice cream

Sunday

leftovers from Saturday and Sunday
big bowl of chocolate ice cream

The most important piece of advice that I can give you, to make sure you gain 2 pounds in 2 day, is absolutely no exercise. None.

Yep, I'm headed to the gym, first thing Monday morning.

Oh, and to answer all of your questions-

No.

I'm not pregnant. Regardless of how much I may have splurged this weekend.

Coincidence? I Think Not

My younger sister and I have always been close, minus, of course the years we were both in our teens, and fought all the freakin' time. As the years have gone by, we have grown even closer.

Eerily closer.

We first started noticing the weirdness when I first moved away, to go to college. She would call me, and tell me about her earache. The next morning, I would wake up with an ear infection. Another common occurence was when one of us would call the other, and talk about how their kidney's were aching. The very next day, the recipient of the call would have either a bladder infection or a kidney infection.

It got to the point that if anything felt strange about me, I would call her and warn her that she would get sick the next day. And, she usually would. She did the same with me. Her specialty was pink eye, though. Even being 3 hours away, her eyes would start bothering her and I would end up with red, gooky eyes.

Last Tuesday, I had a dream that I was pregnant and the due date was December 15. I called her on Wednesday, told her about it and told her that she was probably prego. She laughed. She denied it.

She took the test on Thursday. Guess what her due date is. . .

insert Twilight Zone music- getting louder and louder

December 15.

So far, I'm 3 for 3. This is her third pregnancy, and the third one that I've called.

What's That Smell?

Maddie and I were walking on the sidewalk, headed towards the doors of her school. There were about 5 or 6 other moms doing the same thing. No one was really talking; everyone was pretty much in their own little world.

We passed the flower beds, recently filled with mulch. The really smelly kind. Maddie grabbed her nose, and suddenly the silence was broken.

"Sshhoooooowwieeee! Yuck!" Moms turned to look. Apparently there was a code of silence going on, that I didn't know about.

"Yep, that mulch smells pretty bad, doesn't it?" Look, I know I don't fit in with any of you fashionistas, especially today, but I do like to actually talk to my child.

"Guess why. Cause it's made with poopie. Really, really stinky poop. That's why. Poop makes flowers grow." Hey now, I heard that snicker. Mind your own poop, why don'tcha?

"No. I'm pretty sure it's not." Please stop talking about poop. No- please stop talking about poop in front of these other moms, who I'm sure have never pooped in their perfect lives.

"What is it then?" Why me?

"Umm, I'm not really sure. Probably leaves and dirt and mulch stuff." Just drop this poopie conversation. Please.

"Well- Daddy told me it was made of poop. It stinks like poop. It. Is. Poop." Hhmmm, who do I love more, right now? The child who thinks mulch is made of poop and is declaring her knowledge to the world, or her daddy who told her that?

Note to self: When your child acknowledges that something smells bad, don't comment on it.

Reason: POOP HAPPENS.

Let's Not Call It That, M'kay?

When we first got pregnant with Maddie, Justin and I decided that we would do everything in our power to not use day care. Not that there is anything wrong with it, or that it shouldn't be used, it just wasn't for us.

I stayed at home with her for the first year. When she was 13 months, I went back to work at nights, that way Justin could stay with her. Again, no day care. And, it has worked for us. We've done everything that we could to make it work.

We decided that she needed more social interaction when she was 3, so we placed her in a preschool mother's day out. Twice a week seemed plenty.

Well, I'm starting a new job tomorrow. Luckily, it's on the days that she is in school. The only problem is the fact that the office is about 40 minutes away and picking her up on time will be impossible.

So, I decided to check into extended care, through her school. I asked her teacher about it, and she said the words that I had been dreading.

"Just go to the day care office." Why, oh why, did she have to call it day care? After 4 years, it's pretty much a pride thing.

The kicker is that Maddie heard her call it day care. And, for some reason, she thinks that day care is the one thing that has been missing in her life.

First thing this morning: "Mommy, can I go to day care, today? It's going to be so much fun."
Lunch time: "Mommy, you can stay at work a really looooong time, if you want to. I can just stay in day care."
Quiet time: "In day care, they don't make you have a quiet time."
Afternoon before work: "Hey, Mommy, guess what- you really didn't need to sacrifice all of the time you've put into raising me. I didn't need you. I could have just gone to day care. Like I am tomorrow."

Okay, so the last example wasn't true, but that's pretty much what I heard her say, every time I heard "day care".

Just for the record, tomorrow I'm picking her up from Extended Care.

Where I hope she misses me, just a little.

But, I know that probably not going to be the case. Oh, well- what's a working mom to do?

Special

Recently, my cousin had to go through something that most of us could never imagine. I wasn't sure how to write about it, or even if I should. I tried, but the words just wouldn't translate. My sister put it into the words that I wasn't able to. She wrote it on her MySpace blog, and I wanted to share it with all of you. I hope she doesn't mind.

Taking life for granted

One week ago today, a new family member was born in Texas. Dharma Lucille Drude. 4 lbs, 8 oz, 18 in. long. She was born crying, wiggling, and ready for life. Dharma was a special baby. The first baby for Jennie and Jason, the first grandchild for my Aunt Marilyn, another great grandchild for my grandparents, special. Special. Special because she got to see Jesus before any of us did, special because Heaven is her home now, special because she can crawl up on God’s lap for a hug.

God showed us how special she is when he allowed her to cry, something she was not supposed to be able to do. Special when he helped her squeeze her Mommy’s hand often that day, because she was not supposed to be able to do that, according to modern medicine. But God is greater than any medical book ever written. She was special because her Daddy got to give her a bath and change her diapers, he was not guaranteed that he would even be able to hold her.

Dharma was a gift from Heaven. My cousin and her husband were told during a routine ultrasound that Dharma would be born with Anancephaly, a nonformation of her brain. It was suggested that they have an abortion. Thankfully, they relied on their faith in a God that loved Dharma as she was. No matter that she may have just a few minutes of life after birth, no matter that she might not be perfect.

Dharma is perfect now. Special. Loved by her Mommy and Daddy. Loved by her grandmother Marilyn, loved by Nanny and Daddy Bob. Loved by her cousin Kimmie. Loved by God.

Special.

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

We have been trying to get Maddie in the habit of praying before bed, every night. Some nights it goes well, and she comes up with a sweet personal prayer- thanking God for family, friends, weather, etc. Most nights, she just repeats whatever we say. Some nights, she simply refuses to do it at all.

One night a few weeks ago, I was trying to explain why it is important to pray and that she can talk to God about anything she wants to. She told me that she wanted to just listen to my prayer. I thought I would use it as a teaching moment.

"Dear God, Thank you for today. Thank you for our friends and our family. Please help Maddie understand that you want to hear from her and would love to listen to her prayers. . . "

She let me finish my passive aggressive ploy, I mean, prayer and said that she wanted to pray.

"Dear God, Thank you for today. Thank you for my friends and family. Please help my mommy understand that sometimes, I just don't wanna talk to you. . . Amen."

I have no idea where she gets this passive aggressive attitude.

Please Stick Around, Spring!!

After almost a week of non stop rain, we had a beautiful day. Unfortunately, I was stuck in class all day, and Justin and Maddie were stuck in the car, but we were able to make the most of it when we got home.

We have some gorgeous tulips at the entrance to our apartment, and Maddie actually let me take some pictures of her. Then, she perfected her tree climbing skills. Well, actually, it was more like her "I'll just stand where Daddy puts me" skills. Regardless, we had a great time.

Please take the picture, so I can get this fake smile off of my face!

Look at me!! Just don't let me fall!! Now. Get. Me. Down.

Hhhmmm, I wonder what would happen if I swing from this branch. . .

They don't smell nearly as pretty as they look, do they?

I hope the pretty weather continues. We usually have a really short Spring, before it turns to crazy hot, sweltering, crank up the a.c., and only go outside if it involves a pool Summer.

This week is especially important that it stays nice and dry. If everything goes well, we break ground on our house.

That's right. Our. House.

The Truth Hurts

Yesterday, we dropped Maddie off with Justin's mom. I have school, and Justin has a work convention.

As we were leaving, I gave her a hug, and told her that I was going to miss her. Her response,

"I won't."

Dang, throw me a bone. Lie to me. Tell me you will miss me too.

At least, she's independant. . . but still. . .

Who's Who?

When I was in fourth grade, I heard from my sister that a classmate's dad had been in prison when he was younger.

One day, I got mad at my friend and said something to the effect of, "Well, at least, my dad has never been in prison." She had no idea. I'm sure her parents really appreciated our friendship at the time.

I think that may have been one of the meanest things I did as a child. I mean, besides the usual snotty, mean things that girls just do. But, that is the first thing that I can remember doing that was totally uncalled for, and I did it just to hurt her and get a reaction.

I feel a lot worse about it now, than I did at the time. Especially, now that I have a daughter of my own and I saw her feelings get hurt by one of her best friends.

No- her friend didn't spill the beans that we've been in prison . . . She told Maddie that she didn't want to be her friend anymore.

Coming from a friend that she has had for most of her life, that's a big deal. Particularly to a four year old.

We had decided to have a play date at my apartment. So, my friend brought her twin granddaughters to play. This is one of the first times we've had friends over to play. Mainly because we live far away from most of our friends.

They were in her room playing, we were catching up with each other's lives. Maddie came into the room and started to cry. Lips quivering, voice breaking, heart broken.

"Sh-she doens't w-w-want to be my f-friend."

"Who, darling?"

"That girl."

"Which one? Was is Mary or Kate?"

"I. Don't. Know!"

The twins are identical. She couldn't tell them apart.

I know that what I did, back in fourth grade, was really mean. But, at that moment, I thought that what Maddie was going through was worse than being told her daddy had been in prison.

There was only one of me. Maddie had no idea which girl she should be upset with. Or, tattle on.

I think that's what bothered her the most. Because, while I may have been the mean girl, Maddie is definitely the tattletale.

Will This Make Me Bikini Ready?

I LOVE infomercials. It drives Justin crazy, but I could spend every Saturday morning watching them. The people in the commercials don't look like they are paid, they look so happy because they discovered some off the wall product.

I could watch this one all day long. Not because I believe in the product, but because I want someone to accidentally fall off.




Thanks, Christie, for alerting me to this awesomeness!

What You Get When You Eavesdrop

I was walking along, minding my own business, when I overheard a conversation. I, being me and super nosy, paused to listen- promising myself that I could only listen for a minute, because I didn't want to get caught.

"Just get out! I don't love you anymore!" Dang! She's mad. He must've done something pretty bad.

"I'm not leaving. You leave. But you leave the babies here. With me. I love them, even though I don't love you." Aw- that's sweet. Kinda. At least, he'll take care of his kids.

"I'm not leaving them with you. You. Are. Not. The. Daddy. I love someone else. He can be the daddy now. Ha!" Wow- didn't see that one coming. This opens a whole new can of worms.

I decide that I've heard quite enough. I start to tip toe away, but I guess I made some sort of noise. Please don't look up, please don't look up. . .

She looks up. We make eye contact.

"Hi, Mommy! You wanna play dollhouse with me? You can be the daddy."

Of course, I can be the daddy. He's the one that has been raising kids that aren't his, and his so- called baby momma don't love him no more.