A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.
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Thursday, October 27, 2011

The Best Thing in The World

Are snot flavored baby kisses. True story.

The Best Thing in The World

Are snot flavored baby kisses. True story.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Downtime

Some fresh air after all day at the hospital.

Downtime

Some fresh air after all day at the hospital.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Halloween Starts!

Let the decorating begin !

Halloween Starts!

Let the decorating begin !

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Because I'm An Infrastructure Genius

I can explain to everyone in Atlanta why the i85 "express lane" (toll lane) isn't working.

It isn't because you have to already HAVE a Peach Pass in order to use it and none of us have that. I mean, that's an issue. Basically the traffic reporter goes ALL LANES ON i85 are AT A STANDSTILL BUT THE EXPRESS LANE IS WIDE OPEN!!! I think some of us might pop over and use it at that point but we don't have a Peach Pass in our car to make the sensor thing work so, that's out.

It's not that the prices are REDONKULOUS - they are.  And they seem to change every couple of days. At least on the signs I go past.

These things are factors but not deal breakers.

Here is the biggest problem. First of all you took all that traffic from the far left lane and shoved it to the right. That's one problem.

Still not a deal breaker but it's why all the other lanes are borked. But here is the BIGGEST problem.
The exits are on the right (this is just a random pic of 85 btw but the exit principle is the same).

You put the express lane on the FAR LEFT SIDE OF ONE OF THE BUSIEST MOST CONGESTED INTERSTATES IN AMERICA AND OUR EXITS ARE ON THE RIGHT SIDE. During the time of day that we most need this express lane - it would be dangerous to impossible to get all the way back across to the correct lane to exit.

Seriously, who planned this? Did the engineers involved ever actually DRIVE it in rush hour?

PS you did a crummy PR job because I work with people who thought all of 85 was toll now. Great work.

I give the 85 Express lane an F for totally FUBAR.

Because I'm An Infrastructure Genius

I can explain to everyone in Atlanta why the i85 "express lane" (toll lane) isn't working.

It isn't because you have to already HAVE a Peach Pass in order to use it and none of us have that. I mean, that's an issue. Basically the traffic reporter goes ALL LANES ON i85 are AT A STANDSTILL BUT THE EXPRESS LANE IS WIDE OPEN!!! I think some of us might pop over and use it at that point but we don't have a Peach Pass in our car to make the sensor thing work so, that's out.

It's not that the prices are REDONKULOUS - they are.  And they seem to change every couple of days. At least on the signs I go past.

These things are factors but not deal breakers.

Here is the biggest problem. First of all you took all that traffic from the far left lane and shoved it to the right. That's one problem.

Still not a deal breaker but it's why all the other lanes are borked. But here is the BIGGEST problem.
The exits are on the right (this is just a random pic of 85 btw but the exit principle is the same).

You put the express lane on the FAR LEFT SIDE OF ONE OF THE BUSIEST MOST CONGESTED INTERSTATES IN AMERICA AND OUR EXITS ARE ON THE RIGHT SIDE. During the time of day that we most need this express lane - it would be dangerous to impossible to get all the way back across to the correct lane to exit.

Seriously, who planned this? Did the engineers involved ever actually DRIVE it in rush hour?

PS you did a crummy PR job because I work with people who thought all of 85 was toll now. Great work.

I give the 85 Express lane an F for totally FUBAR.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

18 Months Pass

She was a little upset to be pulled from the warm dark place where she was resting so comfortably under my ribs. More than a little upset, all 9 pounds of her were in serious protest.
She seems to have forgiven us.


18 Months Pass

She was a little upset to be pulled from the warm dark place where she was resting so comfortably under my ribs. More than a little upset, all 9 pounds of her were in serious protest.
She seems to have forgiven us.


Tuesday, October 18, 2011

A Social Warning

I am here to warn you, young men and women of the Earth.
I speak to you from a position of experience, like a sage come down from the mountain to drop nuggets of wisdom and possibly chocolate on you.
Beware of members of the opposite sex you meet in bars.

I tell my cautionary tale lest others experience my same fate. You see, once, some 14 years ago last night exactly - my best friend urged my to come out with her and her new boyfriend for drinks and trivia.
I begrudgingly went.

I will tell you what happens when you talk to members of the opposite sex in bars.

Families happen.

You've been warned.

Yesterday day was  met-a-versary. Tomorrow is our date-a-versary.

14 years.

And counting.

You've been warned.

A Social Warning

I am here to warn you, young men and women of the Earth.
I speak to you from a position of experience, like a sage come down from the mountain to drop nuggets of wisdom and possibly chocolate on you.
Beware of members of the opposite sex you meet in bars.

I tell my cautionary tale lest others experience my same fate. You see, once, some 14 years ago last night exactly - my best friend urged my to come out with her and her new boyfriend for drinks and trivia.
I begrudgingly went.

I will tell you what happens when you talk to members of the opposite sex in bars.

Families happen.

You've been warned.

Yesterday day was  met-a-versary. Tomorrow is our date-a-versary.

14 years.

And counting.

You've been warned.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

I Guess I Need to Move Faster

As the baby just climbed over the barrier from the living room to shout BOTTLE ! at me in the kitchen. 

I wonder where she gets it?

I Guess I Need to Move Faster

As the baby just climbed over the barrier from the living room to shout BOTTLE ! at me in the kitchen. 

I wonder where she gets it?

Friday, October 14, 2011

Duran Duran Tonight Is Gonna Rock My Socks



So tonight I'm turning into a 15 year old girl and going to see Duran Duran at Chastain Park here in the ATL.
I was a huge fan back in the day, and I can say that some of my favorite pop culture moments are grounded in memories that are dressed in Duran Duran's clothes, and some of their lipstick.
Examples? Oh I've got them...
  • In 8th grade we would RUSH home from the bus to gather at Kim's house to watch the MTV top 20 Countdown because THE REFLEX was in the countdown. Come on, you KNOW The Reflex was the AWESOME at the time. MTV played videos back then, those were the days kids.
  • I saw Duran Duran on one tour, promoting which album I forget, and ERASURE opened up for them. These dudes came out dressed in corsets and were announced as "MADONNA'S FAVORITE BAND" and we yawned & went to get hot dogs and sodas. Now we're like "OH HELL WE COULD'VE SEEN ERASURE TOO!" Sorry, in Indiana in the mid 90s we didn't know they were cool.
  • I saw Duran Duran on a comeback tour (Ordinary World? I forget) and the entire place came off their FEET for JAMES - the opening act. Everyone with me went - who? We came off OUR feet when Duran Duran came onto the state. Hello generation gap. I swear we were only in our mid 20s at that point.
  • I saw them again the next year or two years later, and it was like drinking good beer versus Bud. Their hits were still awesome and their new songs were actually good to listen to, unlike some bands that go "this is our new song" and the entire audience starts wondering how much the nachos are.
I'm really excited to be going again as a proper grown up. I lack the Aqua Net and the hot curlers to really get my 80s look on but I like to think the boys of Duran Duran are also proper grown ups and might not have their 80s look going either. Unless it's a retro chic show and I didn't notice that. (don't think so).

I'll try to snap some of the boys at the show, can't wait. And now if you don't mind I gotta go, I'm hungry like the wolf....


#duransocial

Duran Duran Tonight Is Gonna Rock My Socks



So tonight I'm turning into a 15 year old girl and going to see Duran Duran at Chastain Park here in the ATL.
I was a huge fan back in the day, and I can say that some of my favorite pop culture moments are grounded in memories that are dressed in Duran Duran's clothes, and some of their lipstick.
Examples? Oh I've got them...
  • In 8th grade we would RUSH home from the bus to gather at Kim's house to watch the MTV top 20 Countdown because THE REFLEX was in the countdown. Come on, you KNOW The Reflex was the AWESOME at the time. MTV played videos back then, those were the days kids.
  • I saw Duran Duran on one tour, promoting which album I forget, and ERASURE opened up for them. These dudes came out dressed in corsets and were announced as "MADONNA'S FAVORITE BAND" and we yawned & went to get hot dogs and sodas. Now we're like "OH HELL WE COULD'VE SEEN ERASURE TOO!" Sorry, in Indiana in the mid 90s we didn't know they were cool.
  • I saw Duran Duran on a comeback tour (Ordinary World? I forget) and the entire place came off their FEET for JAMES - the opening act. Everyone with me went - who? We came off OUR feet when Duran Duran came onto the state. Hello generation gap. I swear we were only in our mid 20s at that point.
  • I saw them again the next year or two years later, and it was like drinking good beer versus Bud. Their hits were still awesome and their new songs were actually good to listen to, unlike some bands that go "this is our new song" and the entire audience starts wondering how much the nachos are.
I'm really excited to be going again as a proper grown up. I lack the Aqua Net and the hot curlers to really get my 80s look on but I like to think the boys of Duran Duran are also proper grown ups and might not have their 80s look going either. Unless it's a retro chic show and I didn't notice that. (don't think so).

I'll try to snap some of the boys at the show, can't wait. And now if you don't mind I gotta go, I'm hungry like the wolf....


#duransocial

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

This Is Too Awesome

This Is Too Awesome

Monday, October 10, 2011

He's A Gourmet...Intergalactic



Number 27 there, on the way to school looks at me and says "I wonder what Daleks taste like. I bet they taste like calamari."

Of course, we've decided, thats only out of the shell.

Maybe you could serve them on the half shell. With some hot sauce...


He's A Gourmet...Intergalactic



Number 27 there, on the way to school looks at me and says "I wonder what Daleks taste like. I bet they taste like calamari."

Of course, we've decided, thats only out of the shell.

Maybe you could serve them on the half shell. With some hot sauce...


Friday, October 07, 2011

It's Already Starting




A few months ago my husband was diagnosed with serious rheumatoid arthritis and psoriatic arthritis. It's been a dance of getting approvals and forms faxed and more forms faxed and then the wrong pharmacy was contacted and then forms had to be refaxed.

It'd be funny except as we've waited these months, his pain has gotten worse and the amount of suffering he's gone though has increased dramatically. Finally he got through to someone and they hooked him up with samples of this drug which would be 1500 bucks a shot if we had no insurance.

Yesterday while on the phone with me he injected his first shot. We sat and talked to wait to see if anything bad would happen after he did it. It's got these nasty side effects. One of them is referred to as "death" and another one they call "cancer". But when you can't move and your pain is crippling, you face those risks and hit the plunger.

It's supposed to make an amazing difference in his life. It already has.

He doesn't know it yet but I do.

For the past 14 years this man has crawled into bed next to me and slept fitfully. Snoring, tossing, startling himself awake sometimes moaning in pain in his sleep. Sometimes waking up in pain.

I woke up at 6am, to the most gentle breathing I'd ever heard from him. I leaned over to make sure he was ok, and realize he wasn't just ok. He was sleeping.

Peacefully. Without pain, without snoring and without constantly turning to change what aches and hurts.

It gave me hope in the dark morning hours. If it didn't do anything else, giving him restful peaceful sleep would be like a miracle.


It's Already Starting




A few months ago my husband was diagnosed with serious rheumatoid arthritis and psoriatic arthritis. It's been a dance of getting approvals and forms faxed and more forms faxed and then the wrong pharmacy was contacted and then forms had to be refaxed.

It'd be funny except as we've waited these months, his pain has gotten worse and the amount of suffering he's gone though has increased dramatically. Finally he got through to someone and they hooked him up with samples of this drug which would be 1500 bucks a shot if we had no insurance.

Yesterday while on the phone with me he injected his first shot. We sat and talked to wait to see if anything bad would happen after he did it. It's got these nasty side effects. One of them is referred to as "death" and another one they call "cancer". But when you can't move and your pain is crippling, you face those risks and hit the plunger.

It's supposed to make an amazing difference in his life. It already has.

He doesn't know it yet but I do.

For the past 14 years this man has crawled into bed next to me and slept fitfully. Snoring, tossing, startling himself awake sometimes moaning in pain in his sleep. Sometimes waking up in pain.

I woke up at 6am, to the most gentle breathing I'd ever heard from him. I leaned over to make sure he was ok, and realize he wasn't just ok. He was sleeping.

Peacefully. Without pain, without snoring and without constantly turning to change what aches and hurts.

It gave me hope in the dark morning hours. If it didn't do anything else, giving him restful peaceful sleep would be like a miracle.


Saturday, October 01, 2011

Former Selves

So I was just thinking in the shower, I used to have an aesthetician. I really did. I didn't have four children nor a mortgage. But at a time I can remember if I squint into my minds eye hard enough, I remember that I had a manicurist, a stylist and an aesthetician. The manicurist did the hands and feet obviously. The stylist did the hair and occassionally told me what make up looked better than others. But the aesthetician, that one was the true luxury.
The aesthetician I would go to for full body treatments, massages and delicious things that now seems like some other world to me.
I was thinking of this, as I mentioned, while I was scrubbing up with some Caress soap that's burned brown sugar and karite butter. I'm not even certain what a karite is or how you might milk it to obtain butter but, it's pretty darn good.
It's hard to enjoy the pleasures obtained at the Wal-Mart when you are reminiscing about how amazing the sea salt scrub used to be at Phillipe's.
It was like 100 bucks even almost 20 years ago.

It was worth every damned penny.

You'd strip down to your panties, and then put on one of their robes. A nice lady with a calm voice would lead you to a room to listen was I would say was some sort of New Age/Vangelis bastardization while you sipped herbal tea and your room was prepared.

After your tea you'd step into a darkened room and lay down on a massage table, sans robe. From your temples to the bottoms of your feet you were rubbed down with the most amazing oils, getting a massage that made you want to sleep right there. Once you were perfectly slippery, they'd start rubbing on the sea salt, crusting you up like a roast for Sunday. They'd rub and crust until you were similarly covered completely in this heavy sea salt compound.

Once they were sure you were completely covered the entire table would be covered with a steam tent, with only your head sticking out. It was disconcertingly like an iron lung, except that it wasn't iron and it didn't make you breathe. It did give that sort of visual feel though, just the head popping out. I sort of wonder now if kids would even know what an iron lung is, or polio.

After 20 minutes or so of steam being pumped into the tent to open your pores and, I'm not sure about this part, the salt and oil would do something good for you. I don't know what. But I liked it. Then they'd remove the tent and you and your crusty body would arise and go to the next room and lay down on another table, this one ceramic and with a thin layer of towels, with a vichy shower overhead.
And they'd dim the lights and light candles and play more music and you would just lay there,

It was like resting under the most peaceful, pure waterfall ever. You'd slough off all that salt and oil and a new person would emerge from under it. Someone more beautiful, more together, more calm and clearly the sort of person who had an aesthetician.

The truth of it, however would be that you'd feel amazing but look bedraggled. Drowned. You'd look as though you'd been penitentially exfoliated, glowing red and slightly greasy.

I'm sitting here right now 20 years later, looking bedraggled but I feel amazing. I suppose there is something to be said for the karite butter even though it came from Walmart then, eh?

Even with my more reasonable, less extravagant version of myself at the helm however, I with I had an aesthetician. Just for the wicked fun of SAYING it.

Former Selves

So I was just thinking in the shower, I used to have an aesthetician. I really did. I didn't have four children nor a mortgage. But at a time I can remember if I squint into my minds eye hard enough, I remember that I had a manicurist, a stylist and an aesthetician. The manicurist did the hands and feet obviously. The stylist did the hair and occassionally told me what make up looked better than others. But the aesthetician, that one was the true luxury.
The aesthetician I would go to for full body treatments, massages and delicious things that now seems like some other world to me.
I was thinking of this, as I mentioned, while I was scrubbing up with some Caress soap that's burned brown sugar and karite butter. I'm not even certain what a karite is or how you might milk it to obtain butter but, it's pretty darn good.
It's hard to enjoy the pleasures obtained at the Wal-Mart when you are reminiscing about how amazing the sea salt scrub used to be at Phillipe's.
It was like 100 bucks even almost 20 years ago.

It was worth every damned penny.

You'd strip down to your panties, and then put on one of their robes. A nice lady with a calm voice would lead you to a room to listen was I would say was some sort of New Age/Vangelis bastardization while you sipped herbal tea and your room was prepared.

After your tea you'd step into a darkened room and lay down on a massage table, sans robe. From your temples to the bottoms of your feet you were rubbed down with the most amazing oils, getting a massage that made you want to sleep right there. Once you were perfectly slippery, they'd start rubbing on the sea salt, crusting you up like a roast for Sunday. They'd rub and crust until you were similarly covered completely in this heavy sea salt compound.

Once they were sure you were completely covered the entire table would be covered with a steam tent, with only your head sticking out. It was disconcertingly like an iron lung, except that it wasn't iron and it didn't make you breathe. It did give that sort of visual feel though, just the head popping out. I sort of wonder now if kids would even know what an iron lung is, or polio.

After 20 minutes or so of steam being pumped into the tent to open your pores and, I'm not sure about this part, the salt and oil would do something good for you. I don't know what. But I liked it. Then they'd remove the tent and you and your crusty body would arise and go to the next room and lay down on another table, this one ceramic and with a thin layer of towels, with a vichy shower overhead.
And they'd dim the lights and light candles and play more music and you would just lay there,

It was like resting under the most peaceful, pure waterfall ever. You'd slough off all that salt and oil and a new person would emerge from under it. Someone more beautiful, more together, more calm and clearly the sort of person who had an aesthetician.

The truth of it, however would be that you'd feel amazing but look bedraggled. Drowned. You'd look as though you'd been penitentially exfoliated, glowing red and slightly greasy.

I'm sitting here right now 20 years later, looking bedraggled but I feel amazing. I suppose there is something to be said for the karite butter even though it came from Walmart then, eh?

Even with my more reasonable, less extravagant version of myself at the helm however, I with I had an aesthetician. Just for the wicked fun of SAYING it.