Come On In, It's Open

We are not those people. You know, the people that entertain.

We've always been blissfully content to go to others' parties and gatherings. We'll gladly bring whatever needs to be brought, but having people over was generally just not done.

But that was when we lived in an apartment. A decidedly small apartment. Typically, having guests over consisted of quickly changing into swimsuits to head to the pool. If we did have overnight guests, they were treated to the couch and we tried to keep them as busy as possible so no one was cramped in our tiny place.

Well, now we have a house with plenty of room. And we thought a good way for everyone to see the house would be to have a big open house type thing.

It started out being just family, as Justin requested. Then I decided to not listen to Justin and invited friends, too. And now, I'm afraid we are in over our heads.

And the best way to tell Justin how many people are coming is on this blog. Itcouldbeclosetofiftyifeveryonecomes.

Yes, I'm happy everyone is coming. Yes, I hope everyone doesn't show up at the same time. Yes, I'm freaking out a little.

No, I don't know how to entertain properly. No, I'm not sure I'll have enough food. No, I don't know where everyone will park.

But, I'm determined that it will be fun.

Oh, by the way, if you are in Nashville, come on by. Just bring some sort of food. And park on the street.

Inner Monologue Take- Over

It was almost closing time at the restaurant. I had been up since 6, getting Maddie ready for school, me ready for work, going to work and school, picking up Maddie from school, meeting Justin for an early dinner and me going to my second job of the day/night.

I was tired.

Really tired.

I was waiting for one table to finish up their dinner and then, I was outta there. Enter four tables at the same time. 30 minutes before we closed.

I stayed to pick up a table. No big deal. I thought they would be in and out in no time.

Fast forward to an hour after we closed. My table was still there. With no intention of leaving. My friend and I made every effort to make them see that it was time to go. Lights were dimmed. Music was off. Every dish was off the table.

"Um, miss?" What? Don't ask for anything. The bar is closed. The kitchen is closed. WE ARE CLOSED. LEAVE!

"Can you call us a taxi?" Are you planning on tipping me more?

"Sure. What time should I tell it to be here?"

"Whatever time you want us to leave."

And this is where my inner monologue took over my mouth and I said the first thing that came to mind.

"I should have called a long time ago then, huh?"

They didn't tip nearly as well as I thought they might. Wonder why?

Where Da Party At?

It started out with 7 kids. The count is now around 15. Apparently, Maddie's birthday party is the place to be this weekend.

I picked Maddie up from school last week. Her parting words to her classmates were, "Don't forget. My party is at Chuck E. Cheese- ask your moms."

We see some friends of hers at the gym. Maddie invites both of the little girls to come to her party. What could I do? Her mom was standing right there. I couldn't exactly uninvite them. So, I told her when and where and that, of course, we would love for them to come.

I told Justin, "Be sure to invite tell your friend about the party. His wife told me that she will never step into a Chuck E Cheese again, because of all the germs, so I'm pretty sure they won't come."

They are.

Another aquaintance, whose daughter Maddie invited, called and asked about the party. Again, what could I do? They are coming.

And, since I'm such a procrastinator, 2 days before the party, I decide I should check into having it at CEC. Yes, that's after the invitations were sent. Yes, that's after I told ever freakin' 3 and 4 year old in Nashville when and where the party will be.

I approach the manager, who looked eerily like a mouse, and told my situation. No sympathy from her. The rat.

I was told that the tables could only be reserved if you go through the CEC party special. Not gonna happen. I'm not really in the mood to go bankrupt over a birthday party. So, I asked if I could come early and put the cake on one of the open tables and hold it. Nope. Once you start setting up for the party, they start the timer. And you get an hour. How can anyone be expected to eat, play, eat cake, and open presents in an hour?

We've got a ton of coupons for the pizza and tokens. If all else fails, we are going to put the pizza on one table and let everyone find their own tables to eat. The kids probably won't want to sit for long, so there should be open tables, at any given time. We'll just call everyone over when it's time for presents and cake.

This is going to bomb, isn't it?

We don't have a clue about giving a party. We will probably let random kids and adults eat our over priced pizza, simply because we won't know if we actually invited them and didn't know it.

So, hey- if you are in the Nashville area, stop by Chuck's place. It's THE place to be.

Adult Supervision Required

I offered to babysit Maddie's best friend, Ethan, next weekend so that his parents could go out and have some alone time. I haven't watched him in a long time, and the kids always have a crazy good time. Hhhhmmmm. I wonder why it's been that long? And, why is she taking so long to answer? Oh. Crap. She. Remembers.

Last Spring, the playgroup that I belonged to decided to meet at the zoo. I invited Ethan to come along. Everything was going great. It was a beautiful day, the animals were active, and all the children were getting along fabulously.

After looking at the animals, we went to the playground. There is an enclosed jumpy area for the smaller children to play in. As always, we took off all of their shoes and let them run around. The moms were all talking about different things. No big deal.

I glanced up and saw Maddie spit on a boy. The only word to describe the emotion I felt is livid. I was livid. I told her to apologise. She wouldn't do it. Is "livider" a word? I took her by the hand and marched her outside of the play area. I swatted her bottom and explained what she did wrong.

We went back to the play area and I told her that she could continue playing after she apologised to the little boy. As she was sitting there, sulking, I walked over to the other moms. I rolled my eyes, and shrugged. Where's Ethan?

I look up and see one of the kids in our playgroup run by- outside of the gazebo area. What the. . . ?

"WHERE IS ETHAN?! He. Was. Just. Here. How did he get out? I was watching them the whole freakin' time. How am I going to tell my friend that I lost her kid? Oh crap oh crap oh crap. I lost a kid. At the zoo."

I try running out, but I don't have shoes on, the bouncy mat was no longer any fun, and I was trying to keep my eye on Maddie, so that I wouldn't have to say that I lost TWO kids at the zoo.

Ethan was chasing the other girl in our playgroup- in the actual playground, away from anyone in our group. Apparently, while I was having my "talk" with Maddie, a few of them escaped the super safe, enclosed area. And wouldya look at that- Ethan had a goose egg knot on his forehead. He told me that it didn't hurt, and I never really found out how it happened.

When his mom picked him up that day, the first thing she noticed was, obviously, the bruise on his head. "Oh wow! What happened to you?" she asked. Not wanting it to sound worse than it was, I answered for him. "I'm not really sure how it happened, exactly, but I think he hit it on the slide, when I los-, um, couldn't find him. But, um, he says it doesn't hurt. Right, Ethan? Tell her it doesn't hurt. Tell her."

He hasn't been back to the zoo with us. In fact, I don't think I've babysat him, alone and without another adult present, since.

LouLou, go to dinner with your man. Justin will be with me the whole time. I promise.

The Bare Necessities

Necessity Number #1: Coffee
Necessity Number #2: Exercise
Necessity Number #3: Naps

These 3 things help me make it through each day. If I have to give up one of them, on any given day, I tend to be a little moody. Giving up 2 or more, well, that's just not an option. Cause, it's not pretty. Trust me on this.

Last week, we needed groceries. Badly. As in, only enough coffee for half a pot- badly. So, I skipped the gym, to go grocery shopping. I went to Kroger, because FREE COFFEE. Only, the stupid free coffee machine wasn't working. Ugh. I was moving at half speed, because a.) no coffee b.) didn't exercise. Already, not a good combination.

After lunch, we have quiet time. Which means Maddie watches a movie while I read, blog or nap. Since 2 of my daily necessities were shot, I knew I needed a nap. I also knew I needed to wake up in 30 minutes, in order to get ready for work.

"Maddie, honey, I really need to take a nap. OK? So, you just keep watching the movie and be super quiet. Look at the clock for me. When the big hand gets to the 3, will you wake me up? Thanks. Love you."

And I shut my eyes and doze off.

"MOMMY! The big hand is at the 11. It's getting closer and closer to the 12. And after the 12, comes the 1, and then 2, and then 3. I'll wake you back up when it gets to the 3."

"M'kay. Only at the 3"

"Mommy, it's at the 12."

"Honey, I. Need. A. Nap." 5 blissful minutes passed.

"Mommy, I need some milk. But it's okay, I can pour it myself. Go back to sleep."

And I'm up.

I walked into the kitchen, poured her milk, and opened my freshly ground coffee beans, spilling them all over the counter. While my coffee was brewing, I started doing jumping jacks and pretending that I know how to jump rope, because that is so much cooler than jumping jacks.

"MOMMY!! IT'S AT THE 3!!!"

And since I was about to drink my coffee and had just completed more jumping jacks than I've done since elementary school, I didn't scream.

But I wanted to.

Another Edition Of Why I'm An Idiot

This morning, I decided to forgo the gym and run outside. When it is cold out, I usually just run on the treadmill, but I recently purchased an entire Under Armour Cold Gear outfit, and I was ready to try it out.

So, I squeezed and stuffed myself into my all black running gear. By the time I was through, I resembled Catwoman. Without any makeup, hair in a scruffy ponytail, and wearing white socks and tennis shoes, that is. Hey, look at me. I kinda look like a real runner. Just like the ones in the ads for Under Armour gear, I thought.

I began running. It was 25 freakin' degrees. That's 25 degrees LESS than I would have preferred. But, I was sure I would warm up. After all, I had Under Armour cold gear on. It would protect me from the elements. Right?

Once I establish my rhythm, I like to pray. I talk to God about the things that are going on in my life, what I would like to happen, and I try to listen. Today was no different, except my prayer went something like this:

"Oh God, Please stop the wind. Can't you let the sun shine a little brighter and warm this place up? Even if it's only for the next 45 minutes, I'm cool with that. Please."

Since that wasn't working, and I was really cold, I began making promises and talking to myself.

"If you finish 3 miles in under 30 minutes, you can have Taco Bell for lunch. Nachos BellGrande sounds good, doesn't it? Go faster. It'll be over soon."

And then, around mile 2- completely shaded, and really cold, by the way- I began wishing for Under Armour gloves, Under Armour socks, Under. . . under. . . OH. SCHNAPP.

Was I supposed to be wearing this under something? Something like a sweatsuit? To help keep me warm? But, what about those ads? They aren't wearing anything over their outfits. Of course, they aren't, you big dummy. How could they advertise it, if it was covered up? Great. I'm an idiot.

I finished my run, trying my best not to look like the biggest Jello Jiggler in history and not making eye contact with any of the other properly attired runners.

I had my Nachos BellGrande and a Taco Supreme for lunch. I thought I deserved it.

I probably didn't deserve the pizza I had for dinner. I'm taking comfort in the fact that now, I know I can wear something over my catsuit.

Frenemy #1 Jose Cuervo

Today's big question was "So, what did you do last night?" My answer was typically boring. I worked until 10, then went home and watched Gray's Anatomy Season 3. And, I'm so okay with that. You see, I've had my share of wild and crazy New Year's Eves.

It was 1999. Y2K. I was 21 and ready to par-tay. This was pre- Justin and definitely pre-Maddie. This was also pre- common sense.

Mom, you may not want to read the rest of this. But, if you do, please stop reading, please stop reading you've been warned.

I lived in a small college town, about 45 minutes away from Nashville. My roommate and I decided to go into Nashville, to party at a club. The biggest benefit was that my other good friend worked there, and everything was free. Drinks included.

Soon after arriving at the club, I met my friend for the night. Jose Cuervo. That's right. Tequila. Lots of tequila. Shots.

The rest of the night is somewhat of a blur. I remember dancing, drinking, dancing, nothing happened Y2K wise on the East Coast- everything's gonna be all right, more drinking. And then we went and stayed at another friend's house.

The next morning/afternoon, when we woke up, I had some fuzzy flashbacks. Surely that didn't happen. I couldn't have been that bad off. My friend assured me it did, and I was.

Apparently, I had been so bad off, I couldn't walk to the parking garage. So, my best friend (pretty sober) and the friend (really sober) we were staying with that night, went to get the truck. They left me in front of the bar, with a cell phone, and told me to wait for them to pick me up. Well, what do you think happens when you tell a drunk girl to wait for you? That's right, she starts walking.

I walked/stumbled about 5 blocks. Didn't have a clue as to where I was. So, I did what any crazy, stupid- drunk girl would do. I told random strangers that I was homeless. I don't know why I did it. Or why anyone would believe me, but I made 8 dollars.

Obviously, my friends couldn't find me when they made it back to the bar. So they called the cell phone that I had in my purse. I was trying to convince a woman that I was homeless (you know, because all homeless women reek of tequila, wear heels, and carry cell phones), when the phone rang. She answered it for me and told them where to find me. I guess she never really believed that I was homeless.

This is a story has been told and retold many times. It's always funny to hear it from my friend's perspective, but, quite frankly, it scares me to death, to think of how stupid I was. I was extremely lucky that night. And for the rest of the year, actually. That's the year I met Justin.

And decided that I never wanted another shot of Jose Cuervo.

When Will Enough Be Enough?

Last week, I made a confession to Justin, and as soon as I said it, I wished I could take it back. I mean, really- does he have to know every single thing that goes on in my mind? Is honesty really the best policy? Now, he's looking at me like I'm crazy, doesn't really believe me when I tell him I'm not hungry, and I kinda think he secretly moniters what I eat throughout the day. Let me start at the beginning. Please be warned- it's not really funny at all. And this is really hard for me to write this.

In high school and college, I was an average size 8/10. Nothing wrong with that, but I would look at thinner girls, and dream about being that small. It wasn't a big deal, but I was always aware of it.

After I had Maddie, the pregnancy weight came off pretty easily. But as soon as I stopped nursing, a year later, it came right back. Plus some. I was now a size 10/12. But I was okay with it. Until I went to visit my family one weekend. I made the remark on how I had put on some weight, and no one disagreed.

I joined a gym the next week. And became addicted to working out. I go exercise usually 4 or 5 times a week. I try to watch what I eat, but don't really go overboard (except for those 5 months I tried to be a vegetarian).

That was almost 2 years ago. Since then, I've lost almost 35 pounds. And I'm now in a size 4. By far, the smallest I can ever remember being. And for some odd reason, I don't feel like it's enough. I keep thinking, Just 10 more pounds and I can lay off a little bit. If I eat that, I will need to work out an extra 15 minutes to burn off the calories. Is it worth it? It usually is. Cause I love food.

And this is how I ended up at Waffle House telling Justin that I ate a Krispy Kreme donut last week and considered throwing it up. I didn't do it, but the thought was there. And I think that's what is the scariest thing. I went home, researched how many calories were in one delicious, maple-glazed donut, then went running the next day to take care of it.

These thoughts scare me. Yes, I've had them several times. No, I've never acted on them. And I never will. I promise. Justin won't let me.

Whew- that was tough.

Happy Halloween!!!

9 A.M. Was dressed in costume
10A.M. Already had a sack full of candy from gym nursery
12P.M. Finally convinced her that she could take off costume to eat lunch and take nap
4 P.M. Dressed again to meet friends for dinner and trick or treating. Tinkerbell and Captain Hook- how cute is that!!
5-ishP.M. At Pumpkinfest for candy extravaganza
5:30 P.M. Already starting to eat candy
7:30 P.M. Candy eating continues
8:30 P.M. And continues. Add in running around in circles, chasing Grendal, and generally acting like a 3 year old hopped up on Halloween candy
9:15 P.M. Late bedtime with threats of throwing all candy away if she doesn't settle down.
Currently: Singing/reading/calling me in her room to talk while in bed. Threats continue, but I know I won't have to throw away of her candy. Justin and I will eat it all before it gets to that.

Te Quiero, Bellgrande de Nachos

At the beginning of this past summer, I decided to become a vegetarian. No research was involved, and I really didn't have a reason for it. I just wanted to see if I could. So, just like that, I no longer ate meat.

The beginning was tough for me, but once I got accustomed to being the only one NOT enjoying their dinner, it was fine. No, I promise- this broccoli/cauliflower/squash thing is awesome. I love everything green!! Veggie burgers taste just like the real thing, really. And then I started believing it. And I got weird. For almost 5 months I was obsessed with being a vegetarian. I didn't trust myself around it, so I didn't want it anywhere near me, and I sure didn't want to smell it, especially bacon.

But the nights were the worse. I dreamed a lot. About bacon. And nachos bellgrande from Taco Bell. And juicy cheeseburgers. And fried chicken. And being able to eat it without feeling grossed out.

And so began my journey back to sanity. I started out eating chicken, and progressed to lean meats. But the true test was last week.

I went to Taco Bell and ordered a real nachos bellgrande. Filled with ground beef, refried beans, tomatoes, sour cream, and cheese. I felt a tingle of excitement as I ordered it. And when I got my little sack, there was an extra taco in it. Oooh, this must be God's way of telling me it's okay to eat grade D meat. And then I got to object of my dreams.

What?!?! They messed it up!! There were no tomatoes. There was no sour cream. THERE WAS NO MEAT!!!

I sure hope this wasn't a sign from God to give up meat again. Cause I'm not ready to jump on that crazy train again. And neither is my family.