Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Mean Moms

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You know that movie "Mean Girls". I think they ought to make one called "Mean Moms" cause damn, they're everywhere!!! I'm a mom (last time I checked they were still alive) and I really look forward to my mom friends. I love feeling like I'm not the only one in this crazy job. When I'm in the store and hear a mom screaming at her kid I think to myself, "whew, thank GOD it's not just me that does that". I'll purposely make eye contact with her and give her the "been there, girl" look! Just so she knows that she's not alone either. There's a feeling of understanding and acceptance that only us moms can give to each other. When I find a mom who doesn't do everything perfectly I breathe a sigh of relief and put her number in my speed dial. This job is super tough. I try my very best everyday to be loving, patient, understanding and fun. Most days I succeed, some days I struggle and a few days I completely fail!

Why do some moms feel the need to be judgmental and competitive?? What could you possibly gain from it?? I say either they are so completely insecure about themselves and ability to mother or they have nothing else to do. I know I'm not perfect but I'm doing my best and am happy with that and I definitely don't have time to be worried about what other moms are doing. I'm too busy picking the gum out of my hair and realizing I'm wearing mismatched shoes!

I love to socialize with other mom's who are in the daily grind. Most are exactly what I would expect, great moms doing their best who are sweet and welcoming. Yay, new friends. But there's always that select few who usually have their own clique and have a special way of being kill joys. OY! They get a thrill in making nasty little remarks, comparing kids and talking themselves up.

They're at the supermarket giving me dirty judgmental looks while I struggle with my 3 monkeys. They're at the library reading extra loud to their kids so everyone can hear how great they are and giving smug glances at us slacker moms who come to socialize instead of giving a lesson on "the states of the union". They're at the mall at the children's play area hovering over their kids and trying to keep their kids from getting too close to another child for fear that evil germs will invade their child's pristine yet booger infested nose. They are in groups at the playground trying to ignore everyone else who so clearly is not as good a mother as they are.

I hear 'em talking. Yeah, it may seem like I'm oblivious to you, but I'm paying attention! "I can't believe she would let her kid wear his pajamas at 2 in the afternoon, I mean, don't you care enough about your kid to dress him for goodness sake!" Yes, I care but it's not a big enough issue for me. Who gives a rat's ass if he wears his Lightning McQueen pajamas to the playground?? I'm not fighting an obsessed 2 year old. What difference does it makes that Birdie dressed herself in a purple sweater and green shorts in the middle of summer? She thinks that she looks good and is proud that she dressed herself. Baby Bear may have cheerios permanently stuck to her butt...but again, she's as happy as can be.

Mothers who stay home, mothers who work at home, mothers who work outside the home, white, black, brown, purple and green, big, small, short, tall, old, less old, married, not married...and on an on....It doesn't matter. We are all connected in the most blessed and wonderful way possible, we have kids. We all understand that incredible love we feel for our children and SHOULD understand that most of us are doing the very best we can. So if you're a mom and agree with me, *high five to you*!. If you are a mom who is wondering where my kids are while I'm typing this (outside playing with knives, I think?) get over yourself. Next time you're out and see a mom who is clearly having a bad day tell her "I know it's tough, but you're doing a great job." It'll make her day and god knows, she needs it!

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Twelve pounds of bloat

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I don't know the science behind this little miracle, but I have gained 12 pounds of something in the last 2 days. I know it's not what I'm eating, I'm pretty careful about that. I know it's not lack of exercise, I've been in the gym nearly 2 hours a day. Yet still I have gained 12 pounds of what I can only imagine is water.

Where the hell does all this water come from and what the hell is my body's intentions for it?? Does it know something I don't. Maybe there is a drought coming. Maybe it got a memo that I was planning on heading out on a desert adventure with my camel, Steve. Maybe I'm the human equivalent of spongebob squarepants and I'm soaking in the water as I'm doing laps at the pool. Who knows?

I can press little finger holes in my legs, I can feel the water squishing in them too. My pants are tight, my rings are tight and my face is bloated. There could only be one explanation. Ah, yes....the dreaded Aunt Flo must be announcing her arrival by requesting the 12 pound bloat.

She's one crazy bitch that Aunt Flo. She always comes over unannounced and once she's here she's definitely not welcome. She's always demanding weird things like chocolate with salt and vinegar chips, she gives me a headache and punches me in the belly till I can't move. She hogs the heating pad, takes WAY too many pills for a sane person and always ruins at least one pair of my underwear! Before I know it her bitchiness has rubbed off on me and when mama aint happy, aint nobody happy!

She makes herself at home for MUCH longer than welcome and I wish sometimes she would come to visit Howie and not me! I wish for once he would have to deal with this black sheep of the family. He has no idea what kind of stress she puts on be. She exhausts me. All he does now is wonder when she will be leaving so the nighttime activites can resume. He doesn't understand that her cranky ass says she's leaving but then takes her damn time packing up her stuff and always seems to leave a day late. What is her problem? Who the hell does she think she is??

"I hate you Aunt Flo! Go and visit somebody else and take over their lives for a few days cause your ugly butt is not welcome here anymore.

Monday, October 22, 2007

If you give a man a chore

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I'm sure you have all read this book many times; "If you give a mouse a cookie." Well, I have my own take on it....

IF YOU GIVE A MAN A CHORE

If you give a man a chore he will ask you for directions.

While you're giving him directions he will probably ask you for a pen and paper to write it all down.

When he's done writing he'll ask you where to find the tools so he can do his chore. You'll tell him they are in the garage but he won't believe you so he will have to go check for himself.

When he's finished looking, he'll remember he needs to take out the garbage so he'll ask you for a trash bag. He may get carried away and throw away all of your christmas decorations.

When he's done he will notice that he's hungry so he will ask you for a snack of chips and salsa. He'll dig right in, burp and throw in a fart for good measure.
The fart will make him feel like he needs to poop so he'll ask you for a golf magazine.

He will sit on the toilet for 40 minutes reading his magazine which will remind him that he hasn't played golf in a few days. After his impromptu shower that will keep him from getting "itchy butt", he will dig out his golf clubs. He will notice that they are dirty so he will ask you for some soap and water.

You'll bring it to him and he will clean his clubs. When he's finished he'll want you to come see. He will pull out his golf bag and realize that it squeaks a little so he'll ask you for some tools to fix it.

Looking at the tools will remind him there was a chore to do. And chances are if remembers the chore, he's going to want you to do it for him.

by: The experienced wife....aka...tired from all my damn chores....aka...I think my husband is retarded....aka...I need a vacation....aka..me....Licha

Sunday, October 21, 2007

The Chronicles of Mommia: the lion, the witch and MY wardrobe

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Everyone is in a bad mood in my house today. When I got home from the Y this morning I bent down to pick up the boy and he gave me a growl. "Good morning sugar booger", I say to him. Another growl. Somedays he really is a beast! I kiss him on the head and he starts screaming bloody murder. Grrrrreat, this is going to be a WONDERFUL day!

Bear is nursing a small cold. She has a runny nose and is a little stuffy. Her face looks puffy and she's watching Baby Mozart with a blank stare. Poor girl. School's only been in session for 2 weeks and already the germ fest has begun. I dread cold and flu season. Having 3 sneezy, drippy, whiney, vomity kids while I myself have the flu is not my idea of a good time. *Mental Note*...go get flu shots!

Birdie is in rare form today. She's buzzing around the house talking about Spongebob and how he got his head smashed into little pieces which gave him a "brain ache". I don't like her watching that show but boy does she ever stay quiet and out of my way whe she does. I know, I know....don't go getting up my ass about my slacker mommy coping mechanisms. I tell her that the show is a cartoon and that it's make believe. She insists it's the absolute truth and she's freaking out about getting "the brain pain". "I promise your head will not smash into a million pieces", I tell her. She doesn't believe me and tells me I don't know what I'm talking about? Waaaaaaa? What was that missy? "You DO NOT talk to me that way", I say. She raises an eyebrow, rolls her eyes, shakes her head and turns around. OH MY GOD, I'm going to strangle her! She's been like this all weekend. What the heck are they teaching her in school?

I decide to throw in a load of laundry and start cleaning out my closet a bit since I haven't seen the floor in weeks and it's starting to smell in there. I start separating the laundry and at the bottom of a stack of clothes I find a little brown bag. Hey, that looks like the Tai food take-out bag from last week. Birdie must have taken it after Howie ate the left overs. It's filled to the brim with old toys and when I dig a little I find the cause of the foul and mysterious odor that has been plaguing my closet. It's the left over tai food!!!! FROM A WEEK AGO!! It's rotted, moldy, mucusy and looks alive. UUUgh...I think I'm going to throw up a little! That little WITCH. She raided the fridge for my take-out and left it in my closet with all my clean clothes which now smell like a dead person was buried in them. Like I need more laundry to do!!!

*Buzz*, the dryer is done. I only have 10 more loads of laundry to do today. Pray for me, please!

Stop being a weenie and ice your damn balls!

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Men are the biggest babies. I first learned this about Howie the first time we got a duel stomach bug. He hogged the bed AND the bathroom, stayed home from work, loaded up on medicine and whined like a little girl. I, meanwhile, went to work and stopped by the market to pick up all of his necessities. A sick man cannot live without comfort food, soda and playboy!! I pretty much took care of him while I myself had the bug from hell.

Women are built Ford tough! I rarely complained while I was pregnant although the last one really kicked my ass. I was up all night peeing, my whole body ached, I had constant nausea, my cha-cha hurt like hell from all the pressure and I was constantly exhausted. Did I complain? No! I got up every morning to take care of the other 2 monkeys and clean the house and do laundry and all that jazz. Perhaps it was because I never complained that he never really understood how hard pregnancy was for me. He also never understood how hard the deliveries were. I'm like, "you were THERE! you saw the creature come out!, how can you think that didn't hurt like hell!"

He was too busy worried about lunch. In the middle of the boy's birth he decided he was hungry and needed McDonald's. He left me there in complete agony while he spun through the drive-thru. He barely made it back in time. He had just literally walked through the doors when the boy appeared. I could have KILLED him.

Fast forward a bit to the day him and I are in the doctor's office for his vasectomy. While I had some reservations about the surgery I was a little giddy that it was him going under the knife and not me. For him, it was a different story. He was crazy nervous. We had done all of the research and the surgery amounted to a poke for numbing and nothing more in terms of pain. The doc said he would be sore for a couple of days but then he should be back to his normal self. I knew this wouldn't be the case....this is the man who will whine about an ingrown hair or a shoe that's too tight. No, I knew this was going to be an ordeal.

And.....it was! He waddled out of the docs office after his 10 minute procedure with is "please feel sorry for me" look on his face. He came home and laid in bed for 2 days. Every time he would move he would grimace in agony even though the doctor prescribed him morphine for what amounted to a 1/2 cm cut. Where was the morphine when I had a tear from vajajay to kingdom come??? I don't remember that in my discharge papers???

So he milked this thing till he was sucking air. "Please turn on the TV, please bring me a drink, my ice has melted, can you help me change my underwear?" Not to mention..."I will need dinner in bed", "can you scratch my back" and "the doctor said not to lift anything more than a newspaper". This is the same man who the day after I gave birth asked me if I could do a load of his laundry cause he really wanted to wear his MAROON shirt and it was dirty. I guess it was the only one that could match with his khaki pants.

I have to say, I felt no sympathy for him. That might sound terrible but I just couldn't get over how I could pass an entire human being from my body and I would be expected to nurse, take care of other children, cook, clean and do laundry while he has a snip and he has to be waited on hand and foot! Geesh, for crying out loud man, stop being a weenie and ice your damn balls!

I did cater to him for the first 2 days but I secretly went online and the website I checked (written by an experienced man) said that the pain is virtually non-existent after the first 2 days. He, meanwhile, continued to bitch and moan. "I think one of the cuts is infected", he says. "Did you put the ointment on like the doctor sad?" "NO". "Did you clean your junk twice a day?" "NO." "Did you take your anti-infection medicine?" "NO." "Then you deserve the damn infection you big cry baby!" It turned out he was fine. He had just been ogling himself in the mirror and freaked himself out!

After a week he was still waddling from time to time and every time we went to bed he would make sure to tell me how incredibly sore he still was. It was time for revenge. "C'mon baby, it's been a whole week since we had sexy time, I promise I'll be gentle." I regurgitated the same load of crap he gave me a week after I had the kids. He looked at me shocked. "Are you kidding me? I just had major surgery and you're up here trying to get busy?" "Yep, how's it feel, skippy?" "You couldn't have possibly been in this much pain", he says. "Right!"

Why, why, why are men such babies? How bout you, do you have any crazy stories about your men being babies? Pray tell...

A kiss for a piss

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Big milestones are being forged in this Steeler household! Big changes are a comin'.

Birdie is starting to read. I've been working with her all summer. We made a home-made set of flashcards and worked on letters, numbers, sight words and math. She also learned how to tie her shoes and can accurately say her full address and phone number when asked. Yay! I knew the reading thing would be a big deal. We've been reading to her (sometimes 10 books a night) since she was born. Her teacher told me she is very close to taking off on the reading thing so I've been focusing on that. I think something clicked with her last night because she was recognizing words, sounding out one's she was unsure of and "reading" full sentences although some of it was from memory. This morning we did a photo collage of her for her "get to know me" school book and while I turned away she wrote in perfect writing "The Birdie" right under her name. I was so excited!!! She also wrote "she", "and", "a" & "me". I'm so proud of her. She's now obsessed because we seem to be reading non-stop!!!

On the Baby Bear front, walking is not far off. She is pulling herself up and she shimmies along the walls on her wobbly little feet. She also wants me to hold her hands and walk her all over the house. That's fine for a few minutes but after half an hour my back is stiff and I can barely walk myself! I tried to give her a push toy but apparently that doesn't do it for her! I'm kicking myself for even helping her, I don't want her to walk...I want her to stay a baby...FOREVER!!! She insists and she's stubborn so I comply.

The boy is finally potty training. Because of his speech delay I've been rather patient about the potty training thing. It seemed like too much for him. Now, thanks to his steady diet of cottage cheese and fruit snacks, his poopy diapers are unbearable! It's no longer baby boop, you know....the kind that stinks but is still tolerable. Every 5 minutes I take him into the bathroom and we put the Dora The Explorer potty seat on the toilet, he pulls down his Lightning McQueen pull ups and he sits for a while reading his dinosaur books. Nothing happens. I still follow through with the routine of wiping, flushing and hand washing. He also gets a kiss for a piss. I keep a stash of Hershey's kisses out of reach and he never lets me forget his treat. Yesterday he sat on the damn pot for 15 minutes but nothing was...working out...so I let him wander the house naked until the mood struck him. The mood must have struck suddenly when he was in the CARPETED family room cause the next thing I know I saw poop dripping from his little heiny. Worse, he had left 2 huge turds in the middle of the room, then stepped in it and left poopy footprints all the way downstairs. Shit! Literally! I went and rented a carpet cleaner pdq and cleaned up. Since I have it I'm going to do the whole room, stairs and throw in the bedrooms for good measure. Might as well.

So you can imagine my day. I try to simultaneously read books to Birdie while I walk Bear around the house. Then I have to stop every 5 minutes to take the boy to the bathroom...wait....wait...wait..finish the routine. Back to reading and walking and reading and walking. Another bathroom break. I've taken to reading to Birdie in the bathroom and the other day took all 3 of them into our bathroom which is larger and let the boy sit on the pot, Birdie sit in the tub and read her book while I walked back and forth with Bear.

It's wonderful to see them all growing, learning and succeeding. I'm glad I'm here for it all, but man....I need a shot of tequila at the end of the day!!!!

I'm almost completely green

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In an effort to save the earf, we have attempted to transform our family into a re-using, recycling, conservatory green team! Our efforts began shortly after Earth day last year and we've slowly made adjustments in our daily routines. I'm no expert so I cannot accurately say whether or not global warning is an imminent danger, but I do know that no harm will come of being less wasteful and saving money in the process. I want the kiddos to know about their responsiblity as earf dwellers. Here's a list of our changes:

1. We bought energy saving lightbulbs and replaced every accessible one. We have a 20 foot foyer and seeing as how I'm only 5'4" and the 6'4" hubby has an overwhelming fear of heights, I can safely say the entryway light will not be changed until it dies completely and even then we will consider using candles! The energy saving bulbs while expensive, do last a long time! I also unplugged anything that is not used on a daily basis and switched the kids from night lights to battery powered push lights.

2. I bought re-useable canvas bags for shopping. This was a little investment seeing as how a market trip for us will normally require 10-15 grocery bags. I was lucky to snag some at a going out of business sale for only $.99 each! I use them for anything from a small trip to the drug store to a major grocery buy out! They give me a 1 cent discount for each bag every time I use it although the check out kids look at me like I must be a hairy armpitted tree hugger every time I say "canvas" to their "paper or plastic" question.

3. I started using all natural cleaning products. The green cleaning stuff is too expensive so I got a Queen of Clean book and she gives tons of recipes on making your own cleaning products from natural things like vinegar, lemon juice, water and borax. I went out and got a 10 pack of empty bottles and made my own cleansers, disinfectants and stain spotters. It's super cheap, it works great and I feel good knowing my house is chemical free. I also invested in some microfiber cleaning products. They are AMAZING! They're completely chemical free and washable. Check out this website: www.swiftmicrofiber.com

4. We started carpooling. It's no secret that gas prices are ridiculous so this one was a no brainer. Recently one of Howie's co-workers moved close to our neighborhood so now they carpool sometimes. Also, since 4 girls from our neighborhood take dance class together we moms started to carpool as well. We all save gas money and we only have to take those giggly wiggly girly girls to tap/ballet/jazz once a month or so!

5. We recycle. This one is also an easy thing to do. It just take a minute to rinse out a jar or to fold up a newspaper and put it into the recycle box. We end up with 2-3 huge boxes of recycleable stuff every week and it feels good to know that stuff isn't going into the garbage! I'm also careful to buy things that are packaged with recycleable materials.

6. We turned the temperature down on our water thrermostat and also keep the temp in our house at a constant 79 degrees. This killed Howie this summer because it gets crazy humid here on the east coast. I caught him trying to turn the air temp down many times. He's hot blooded. There were days where we were sweating like pigs but it was an excuse to go out and play in the shade and eat home-made popcicles. We also only watered our grass very sparingly and only at pre-approved times of day. Our lawn was hideous this year but it was for a good cause!

7. We've taught the kids simple lessons about turning off the water when brushing, turning off the lights if you leave a room and flushing every other time when they go pee pee.

8. We're considering a hybrid vehicle. We didn't want to get a new car for a long time but seeing as how the minivan seems possessed by the devil we must consider options. The other day the windows went up and down by themselves. Then later, the radio wouldn't work, the electrical gave out and it wouldn't switch gears. We've decided if it's more cost effective we should consider a new car. I don't drive much especially now that the bus picks Birdie up for school but it scares me to be out on a highway with 3 kids when the minivan decides to start rolling it's eyes and vomiting pea soup!

9. We bought a tree. We went to this website: www.getonboardnow.org/buy_tree.html and bought a tree to be planted. You buy a virtual tree and every virtual tree represents one that will be planted for real.

10. We're still in the process of doing number 10....composting. It's taken me a long time to convince Howie that this is a do-able thing. He would rather not. We decided to start small by getting a rotating composting bin. We're saving our fall leaves for the "dry" part and we are on our way to adventures in composting. I've done some research...who knew coffee grounds and dryer lint can be composted?? I can't believe how much we will not bewasting and just think how gorgeous my tulips will be in the spring!!!

So there it is, the green team initiative for a better, cleaner and healthier earf for today and tomorrow! Go out and hug a tree! That reminds me, I need to shave my armpits!!

The bag ladies

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When Birdie turned two, she began a love affair with junk and anything that will carry junk. It began with small purses filled with a play phone, keys and wallet. Then came large handbags, backpacks and even trash bags. Anything and everything will go into her bags. I've found empty snack bags, old rotton food, pencils, crayons, tiny little dolls, bracelets, little action figures, barbie shoes and more endless trinkets.

At any given time she has at least 6 bags full of junk. She's ready to go at a moment's notice with her bags full of crap. Recently she's taken to a purse on each arm and a backpack full of useless carry- ons.

Most days I'm not brave enough to fight her about bringing her things when we go out although I put my foot down when it comes to school. I always know she's hiding a stash when she ever so politely tells me that she has packed her own snack for school and "I don't have to worry about it". I always inspect and usually find a gargantuan amount of goldfish crackers, two snack bags or overflowing ziplocs of leftover spaghetti. During my inspection I also note that she has taken stickers, books, barbies, lipgloss and money.

That's another thing. She LOVES money. She's starting to understand the concept of " you don't get nothing for free" because she will do a chore and then demand her quarter of pay! She does need milk money but only 40 cents. She definitely doesn't need a dollar in pennies! The lipgloss is also a no-no. She recently got in trouble with the bus driver because her and her friend Sera were putting lipgloss on and taunting the boys. When the boys took it away they protested by letting them know they were "stupid boys". I was told by my neighbor (who's son took away the lip gloss) that "stupid" is a dirty word that is not allowed in their house and she was upset that my daughter had enlightened her son to the foulness of that word. It's not like we go around chanting "stupid" around our house either, if that was the implication.

Anyway, I took everything out of her bags and wonder to myself. Is this my child? After all, I HATE purses. I don't even carry a purse because I hate having to carry anything. I have a clip on phone, snap on keys and a small pocket book that goes around my wrist. I cannot be trusted with purses. I've had 2 stolen and lost 3 in the last 4 years!

The junk is another matter. My mother is the queen of clutter. When I was growing up there wasn't a saturday when she didn't demand that I dust her knick knack collections of antique porcelein monkeys, chickens, goats, tigers and elephants. I guess my mom's decorating style was retro jungle chic! Even back then, being 7, I understood this was not good style. I hated the fullness of the house, it made me anxious.

So, its no surprise that I do not have a knick knack in my house. One of our friends went to India and brought us a gorgeous little Buddah back from Calcutta. It's nice. I was appreciative and I think it's pretty cool but do I set it out? NO! I only put it out when they are visiting so I can point out to them how much I love it.

Where did Birdie get this obsession? Well, I thought it was some kind of genetic abnormality at first but then last year when Ellie moved in for a while, I found out it is a genetic inheritance! The woman has boxes, bags, purses, backpacks, and trashbags. Birdie is her grandmother's grandaughter complete with 3 purses per outing. They also have an incredible knack for knowing where EVERYTHING is! If I were to ask Birdie where an obscure piece of trash might be she would tell me exactly which purse, in which pocket. Ellie is the same way. Even being blind she knows exactly where things are! The other day I went through a toy box to throw out random crappy toys, the stuff we get during a trip at Mickey Dee's. I threw away a retarded little animal toy and a stuffed tiger. Both had been forgotton and shoved to the bottom of the never emptied toybox. The next day, Birdie says, "um, mom....WHAT did you do with my stuffed tiger?". "HMMM???, I don't know know where you put your toys", I say. "I know you touched them because they were right here at the bottom of this toy basket under the empty chicken nugget box!!!" The jig was up. "Okay, Okay, I threw it away cause you guys never played with it", I confess. The tears and screams immediately began and she ran upstairs and threw herself on the bed screaming something about how I ruined her life forever and ever. Can you say...Drama Queen?

I don't know where she got that from either. Ahem....it must be from her dad!

My sexy droopy boobies

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My boobies sprouted when I was eleven. They were cute little nubbins. I didn't really care for them at first, in fact I was self conscious of my changing body. Most of my friends didn't have boobies yet so I was the odd man out. It didn't help that my new buds were often the topic of conversation amongst my friends. They were curious and asked me endless questions and even wanted to see them. Upon inspection, my best friend told me I better get those puppies into a training bra. I didn't know what kind of training my tits were in for but I figured I better get a move on it, quick!

I told my mom I wanted a bra and she re-acted as if I wanted to buy a 12 inch dildo. "What?", she gasped. "You're too young for all that stuff and don't be thinking about dirty things like that!"! Not long after, she came into the bathroom during my bath time and saw for herself why I had requested a bra. She took me shopping and I got my first training bra with a little pink flower sewed into the cleavage. As if I had cleavage.

By the time I reached my teens my bosom was in full bloom. This was the only time in my life when I had a perfect knockers. I could easily pass the pencil test! For you guys, the pencil test is where you place a pencil under your breast to test it's perkiness. If the pencil falls, they pass. If not, you've got saggage. During these years I proundly displayed my perky ta tas in revealing outfits, much to the chagrin of my father who spent most of his time trying to button me up! Those were the days! The days I could leave the house bra-less and not have to worry about slapping someone if I happened to turn around too quickly.

So, it pains me now to say that the inevitable has happened. My dear friends, the boobie twins, have fallen and they can't get up. No amount of pulling, pushing or taping can save them now. Can we have a moment of silence for my fallen comrades? *playing "taps"* Those perky days are gone. Now the poor girls are shriveled, droopy, pendulous, wearied bags of flesh that don't come close to resembling their former selves. Now, not only would a pencil be permanently lodged under my tits but I could probably fit 12 pens, some paper and a stapler!

Before I had kids I wore push up bras and lacey demi cups. Once I got knocked up I had to switch to maternity monstrosities. They couldn't really be called bras as they looked more like a straight jacket than a bra. What could I do? I needed the support because my girls swelled up by 2 cup sizes and were heavy as hell.

When the kids were born the mammaries became working girls. They nursed 3 kids for a combined total of more than 3 years. The poor things endured engorgement, cracked nipples, leakage and being pinched and bitten by newly emerging baby teeth. The boobs were off limits to Howie during the working years because I could never go bra-less or without nursing pads. The one time I attempted to go without coverage lead to my squirting Howie in the eye at the most inoppertune time. It was an ugly scene. Needless to say, we never attempted that again!

Now, thankfully, the working days are over and the girls are ready to go wild.
I decided to go out and get some pretty under things to celebrate. I really didn't have a choice since the weight loss has led to me falling out of my oversized bras many humiliating times. I'm embarassed to admit that I've never been professionally fitted for a bra. I'd like to , but I hate the idea of a stranger all up in my lady lumps.

I decided to measure myself with a little help from the hubby. To my surprise and disappointment I found out I'm a B cup. It's no wonder I was falling out of my D cup bras!! How could this be?? I've always been a D cup or so I thought. Maybe I've been dilusional? Maybe I measured wrong? OR Maybe in some twisted weight loss curse I've lost 4 pounds of boobage! Whatever the reason, I must now come to terms with my new B's *sigh*.

For the first time ever I'm wondering whether I should consider a boob job. Probably not, but it's fun to dream. In this breast cancer awareness month I find myself thinking lovingly of my poor twins. While they may be droopy I'm thankful for all htey have accomplished and I'm grateful for their health. I hope they stay that way. After all, it could be much worse than a little droopage!

I didn't recognize you with your clothes on!

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I've made quite a few friends at the gym which is actually a miracle because I usually can barely gasp for breathe much less hold a conversation with my fellow sweaters. The regulars on the eliptical in the cardio room are a woman who doesn't speak a lick of english and an older gentelman who jams to his ipod and loves to watch the shoppers network on the overhead boob tubes. The cardio area is in a loft that over looks the weight room. I don't personally know those guys down there lifting weights but my staring has made me quite acquainted with most every part of their bodies, especially their arms. I LOVE arms!!!!YUM



One of my best buds is a man named Derek. He's a very chatty man in his early 60's who uses the row machine right next to my eliptical. He's actually very charming, smart and super funny. I turn my ipod off anytime he comes in because I love talking to him. His wife works out with us too, her name is Lori and she is also a piece of work. Those two are hilarious. Half the time my belly hurts so much not from the exercise but from the hysterical belts of laughter I let out from their smart ass remarks!



Derek and Lori also do laps at the pool with me and we sometimes double up or triple up lanes when the pool gets too busy. It was Derek who came to my rescue when my bathing suit strap gave way and I had a full blown Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction! He saw the look of panic in my face and asked me what was wrong. He giggled and made smart ass remarks but helped me get my suit situated, thank GOD!




I've only ever seen Derek and Lori either in their work out clothes or in their swim suits so I don't really know what they look like in the real world as they don't really know that I regularly wear leather hot pants, especially on humid summer days!



So, it was no surprise that they didn't recognize me when I saw them yesterday at the pharmacy. I was browsing through the anti nausea medication for Mamaw's sudden bout of food poisoning when I saw them out of the corner of my eye. I didn't recognize them at first. Plus, I was busy talking to a neighborhood mom who is a bit of a gossip. She was regaling stories of the newest neighborhood scandal. There couldn't have been a worse person to be standing next to me when Derek decided to say hello.

"Licha!!!!!! I didn't recognize you with your clothes on!!!!!!", he says with while raising his eyebrows up and down and winking.

"I didn't recognize you either...you're wearing PANTS", I pipe back with a smart ass remark.

It's at that moment that I remember that my neighbor is still standing next to me, mouth agape. "Well, you see...", I begin to explain. "No, need...it's none of my business", she says with a condescending look on her face. "You see, we work out together at the Y and it's not what you thiiiiiiiinnnk", I shout behind her. She didn't hear me because she was running down the pharmacy aisles already plotting the gossip she would spew all over the neighborhood. DAMN!



Gossip spreads faster in my neighborhood than a college girl's legs on spring break in Daytona beach!

Have any of you experienced such embarassment? Have you ever had a wardrobe malfunction?? Tell me, so I can gossip bout you!! :-)

A state of emergency

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Last friday, during an afternoon storm, we lost power....again. I say "again" because we lose power so many times I've lost count. All it takes is for a bird to fart and send a gust in the direction of our electrical lines and we lose power for hours! Last friday was no exception. After 5 minutes of random thunder rumbles and a few drops of rain, the power went kablooey.

Luckily it was during the day so there was no need to drag out the candles and flashlights. Unfortunately for Howie who was working from home, his computer went belly up. He went through the house checking all of our electronics and found that the TiVo had also died.

By the time the power was restored a few minutes later, Howie had declared a state of emergency in the Steeler house! The TiVo was fried and he was freaking out! He scooped up the dead TiVo and tried to resuscitate by giving it mouth to mouth. When that didn't work he rushed it to the basement where it underwent emergency open box surgery complete with a hard drive transplant and shock therapy!

I should tell you that we LOVE our TiVo. We first got it back in 02 when Birdie was born. We quickly learned that having a newborn does not co-exist well with a prime time t.v. dependence. We've always been big prime time watchers and we were missing way too much boob tube because we were tending to the baby Bird. TiVo was our savior! We quickly became completely addicted and have not lived a day without it since. Now we record our evening shows in advance and can sit and watch everything in an hour and a half sans commercials. As a matter of fact, I can't remember the last time I actually saw a commercial, isn't it glorious?! It also comes in handy when there are scheduling conflicts. For example, "House" and "The Biggest Loser" are on at the same time so with TiVo we can watch both!!

The idea of having to watch his shows with commerical interruption was too much for Howie to bear. He was determinted to fix it at any cost! Howie cannot measure and/or cut a piece of wood but he's super handy with electronics and computers. He spent hours lovingly nursing the TiVo back to working order and then another day trying to restore all of our season passes. I swear I saw tears in his eyes when was not able to restore last week's "CSI" and "Ghost Whisperer".

He kept talking out loud about technical crap. I hate to admit it but when it comes to tech stuff, Howie is a total geek and when he starts talking about all of it my mind goes numb and I only hear "waah, waah, waah". I look at him with a blank stare. "Forget it, you're not listening anyway", he snorts. What gave it away? Was it that I was rolling my eyes? The nose picking? Maybe the snoring sounds I was making were over the top!

Finally, last night before "Desperate Housewives" was to begin he announced that we were fully restored to pre-fried TiVo status and the Steeler household was again a sanctuary of television delight. Good thing too! Did any of you catch DH last night? HILARIOUS! I love the fact that Lynette's mom was trying to score her some chronic!

Does anyone else have a complete dependency on TiVo? Or is it just us?

Grumpy Bear

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It was just a matter of time before my two oldest monkeys taught baby Bear the tricks of the trade. Things like mastering "the scream". The pitch of which can send animals within a 2 miles radius into a tizzy. I think if held long enough the scream could shatter every window in our house! The shriek makes my ears ache and my eyes twitch. Birdie will let out the scream and the boy will follow suit. Now that Bear has found her voice, she will chime in as well. They will keep this up until I throw a shameless mommy tantrum. They gang up on me and I am grossly outnumbered!

They have also taught Bear how to torture the dog and perform the "rip and chew" on their newly checked out library books. I swear we've bought so many damn library books that they should dedicate a wing to us!

The most recent shenanigans that transpired involved some devious scheming by my 3 little monsters. They decided to gang up on their Mamaw Ellie. Both Birdie and the boy have shamelessly played tricks on their Mamaw as soon as they picked up on the fact that she can't see. Birdie has stolen candy while Ellie is cleaning her purse and the boy performs a little something I like to call "the silent escape". Both of these tricks have turned Ellie's hair from gray to white! This time they decided to use their baby sister as a ploy in their evil plot. They were all upstairs playing in our family room while Mamaw was watching the game show network. She was watching them while I did some quick bathroom cleaning. I could hear what transpired. "Birdie, do you see Bear?", says Elle. "Nope, she's gone, I think she's headed for the stairs", says Bird. "Baby Go", says the boy adding his two cents. Upon hearing this Ellie hoists herself from the lazy boy and gets on her hands and knees feeling around the carpet which is cluttered with couch cushons and piles of toys. She was shouting Bear's name and upon hearing this I spring from the bathroom as my mommy alarm started dinging. I was disgusted at what I saw. Mamaw was in a tizzy, still crawling around and now starting to shake, while my three hellions are sitting in the corner having a giggle at watching their mamaw scurry in a panic. I rush over and help Ellie up while shooting them the "i'm gonna kick your butt so you better run" look. Birdie and the boy zoom up the stairs and I scooped up baby bear as Ellie walked down to the kitchen mumbling something about "those God-damned kids".

They got an ear full from me, let me tell ya! I know Bear didn't have direct part in their plan but the bottom line is that she's learning....from the best! I have a sneaking suspicion that while princess drama queen and kamakaze action hero can teach her some doozies, she has a few tricks of her own up her ruffled little baby sleeves!

Just the other day I had to wake her early from her nap because I had to pick up Ellie from her knitting group. This did not bode well with the littlest Steeler. She grumbled and roared as most certainly all little bears do. By the afternoon, she was in rare form. She's was screaming bloody murder and didn't want to eat, be held, or go to sleep. She was completely inconsoleable. I started to wonder if there was something seriously wrong with her as she never acts this way. I couldn't take her temp as she was wriggling too much, but she seemed warm to me. I started to worry so I called her ped and they told me to bring her in right away. I had to wait a few minutes to pick up Birdie at the bus stop but then headed straight over to the doc's office.

Why is it that anytime I am in a hurry I get behind the most god forsaken slow person in the world!!!! Can't you see I'm in a hurry, I've got a dying baby on my hands who's screaming in pain and you want to waddle along in your stupid little Geo metro that has a sticker saying "yes it's got a hemi"!!!!! Get the heck out my way!!! So, I'm in a complete freak mode when I finally get there, thinking they are going to send me to the hospital upon inspecting my poor, sick baby girl!

I sat in the exam room for what seemed like an eternity listening to my baby wailing and writhing in pain. I hate this, I want to just take all the pain away from her! What could be wrong with her? The doc checked her temp, her ears, her throat, her teeth, her chest, her belly, her poop, her butt....everything imagineable and then turns to me as if she's got bad news and says "I think she's just in a really bad mood! Maybe she doesn't like the weather." SERIOUSLY! "There's nothing wrong with her", I say with my face all scrunched up. "Nothing".

As soon as we left the doctor's office she miraculously recovered and when we got home she begged to go to bed so we put her down and she slept from 5 in the afternoon till 8 the next morning! I can't believe what that damn little girl put me through....the worry, the frustration....the stress....all because I woke her up 15 mintues early from her stinking nap!! God help me as she gets older. As much as the other two have put me through, I have a feeling the baby Bear will be the death of me!