Monday, October 20, 2014

The Post Where I Rant about "Big Family Issues"

I love all these lists you find about the awkward parts of being anything (oldest, youngest, religious, musical).  The ones about rants about "Big Family Issues" are my fav, but there's so much they leave out.  And since I get asked all the time about it and should have a PhD in it, let me fill in the holes a bit. 

MamaJulep's List of Big Family Issues: A View from inside the Frat House

1. Going any place where you all have to be seated, preferably together, has to be a well-planned execution with plenty of time to get there ahead of the crowd who doesn't have to be early.  Going to church? If you all want to sit in the same pew, plan on getting there about 30 minutes before they turn the lights on.  Make your extra time sitting there more craptastic by adding a toddler or three, so by the time Father walks in they are good and ready to meltdown.  One Christmas Eve I sat an hour ahead with my triplets, who were nine-Jesus-help-me-months old.  Their dad decided to take my 3 year old out as soon as we muther freaking got there for whispering too loudly and I spent the next two hours with strangers helping me handle my trio, while trying to participate in Mass and not be the act in the center ring, because I could not physically just walk out while holding all three at once.  I may as well have shown up with three baby octopuses.  Did I mention I was pregnant?
Wanna "grab a bite"?  You better call the diner before you leave and give them the *warning* that you need "the big table".  It' doesn't have to be a reservation kinda place because with a party of eight or more, it can be The Sizzler or Waffle House.  They always act like you just brought in the church bus at Cracker Barrel and you need to wait while we build tables in the back just for you.  And they always put you in that back room by the bathrooms and the dirty dishes. And if they do actually seat you by regular folks, you get the eye rolls and head turns.  Because we're freaks.

2.  The daily fight to groom, shower, pop a zit or pee alone is a battle that may be won sometimes but the war never ends.  There is no impromptu "I'll just grab my shower in the morning" when everyone else in the house also thinks the same thing.  This results in shower schedules and timed limits on bathrooms and replacing the door. again.  And it's like we're all living in the dorm and we overslept and are hungover and need to get to finals in thirty minutes. 
Only it happens every. godforsaken. day.  And mama ends up with a cold prison shower bathing with men's sport wash because her stuff was highjacked by teenage girls.  And my bathroom lottery number never comes up. 

3.  Privacy? Personal space? What's that? Yes, we live in the frat house and the party never has a curfew. Wanna pee alone? Have a private phone conversation?  Watch a movie without pausing it 85 times? Shower without visitors?  All are a "no" at my house unless you get real creative.   Ever seen a kid brush their teeth on the back porch so nobody spits on them?  Come over! Looking for one of your kids? Check the prison bus, it's like the hide out when you can't take another person next to you one more second!  And we share every space, so no one has their own room including me, who gets to share a bed with a six year old ninja sleeper.  Believe it or not, my crew is pretty modest so no one changes clothes together or opens up the bathroom and does the unthinkable while someone else is already in there.  But when we all do hang together and eat a meal or watch a movie, we have to be flexible and not be selfish turds.  Hmmm.


4.  We never have anything we need, mostly because of hoarders.  As soon as new loot hits the house, the kids are all over it like we're living The Hunger Games and it's the last time we will EVER GET THIS! School lunch snacks? Vanished.  You won't find them when you're packing a half dozen lunches.  Try checking their closets and under their mattresses.  Oh yes Honey!  Looking for a soft drink?  Why would it be in the kitchen?  Check under their beds or behind the dresser.  And things like clean towels, deodorant, razors?  uh..., no.  You'd have to get on the black market if you want your own bath cloth.  It's usually the six year old who knows where all the good stuff is.  Luckily, she can still be bribed.

Yeah, that's us, back in the day of only 5 kids. At the wholesale club. Yeah.
5. Going anywhere is a field trip and the public L.O.V.E.S us.  Taking the crew with me isn't as necessary as it used to be but they still need to go or just don't want me to be lonely and have any time to myself, even if it is just a trip to Walmart.  When folks see us they stare like we're celebrities or Americas Most Wanted.  I've been asked if I run a day care or have a church youth group.  Eh, no thank you.  I get asked how I had all my kids and what my religious beliefs are.  They're all mine. Yes I know what causes it.  No, questions about my uterus are really none of your business.  I'd just like to grab my four gallons of milk, the extra strength Excedrin, and the super box of tampons and just get home to my bottle of merlot.  And it's easy to be gawked at when you drive the prison bus and make noise because even when we are just having a conversation there's so many of us it's like you're in a cafeteria and it's never quiet.  ever.

6. Chores are supersized.  I recently got a working dishwasher for the first time in three years.  But even with the dishwasher, doing dishes for my crew is like doing time never finished.  I don't know what an empty sink looks like but I'd like to.  When I cook for my family it looks like I'm prepping for the end times.  All my recipes are made for the "pot luck" cookbooks because I have to.  I don't think I even know how to cook for two.  Still we never have leftovers.  I wouldn't know what to do with them.  And laundry is impossible.  Our missing socks basket is a hefty-sized trash can.  When I find something dirty and don't know whose it is, suddenly it belongs to no one, but if it's folded and put away it belongs to everyone. but me.  And the constant traffic helps none.  Given the money, I could hire someone full time just to keep my floors clean.  I need to sweep and mop at least once a day but I have these kids to deal with so we may as well have dirt floors for all the good I do.   And my crew leaves their crap everywhere so I have landmines all over the place and you just quit asking why you have a Barbie shoe covered in jelly stuck to your sock because you have to choose how much your brain can take of the nonsense.
And we make lots of garbage.  We get one trash can the city picks up once a week, which is, well, inadequate.  So I also recycle.  And I have a compost pile.  And Friday mornings I sneak around nearby houses like a bandit and put extra bags of nasty in other bins.  

7. Anything involving all of us has to be planned out like a military maneuver.  Most kids are involved in a few things at once, but for us, everyone gets to pick ONE extra activity at a time because there is only ONE of me! My family calendar looks like the human resources department for a Fortune 500 company.  Planning for Christmas or Back-To-School requires spreadsheets and highlighters and two number 2 pencils and a GPS and three major credit cards.  My extended family wanted all of the grandchildren to get gifts from each family.  Well drawing names is great when you have a couple of kids.  Oh, and it's a $20 limit.  So that put me in for $120 in gifts for kids I never see that aren't mine! So I suggested we each bring gifts for each of our own kids to open, that is unless they wanted their kids to open a jar of peanut butter.  They got on board with me.   And togetherness plus going out equals money.  With a big crew you can't take that for granted.  Just going to a high school football game with the crew can dent the budget so we plan and bring a cooler with drinks and snacks and all that planning makes you rethink what the hell have I done?  And with all my experience I really think I could run a Fortune 500.  Or at least order their office supplies.
My kitchen table.  Two weeks before school started.  I'm still not done shopping.
 And this list could go on, but then, that's why I write this nonsense.  To share with you the stuff I see everyday, which means you get to hear about life with sweathogs.  I could tell you how we never have a decent family picture because there's always that one kid... Or how everyone knows me at church or school because I'm that lady with all the kids, but I have no idea who you are.  Sorry.    And how many kids do you have again? It doesn't matter because I can never remember the right kids' name when I'm talking to them.  So they'll all grow up with identity disorders.  Among so many other things.  And I couldn't imagine my life if any of them were missing.

 From the carpool line,

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Cold, Flu and Hypochodria Season

Or for carpool! Does it come in Pumpkin Latte?
It's time to ramp up sick.  At my house all my crew has been sick at some point this week.  They were all fevery and stinky and snotty and everyone missed a day or two of school and I never took one soul to the doctor

That collective *gasp* from cyberspace is the sound of families with less offspring than me, so... everybody.  I know many of you take your kids to the pediatrician constantly more than me.  I've done that before but with my crew it's not a luxury I have.  I mean when we all get sick at the same time, (which is like a live version of "Walking Dead" because everyone just looks at each other wondering why no one is helping ME) - then the bill for that visit is more than my mortgage, so, no thank you. I've done the "it's a virus and has to run its course, please hand me your credit card now" speech. And you'll be billed separately by our lab, and by our pharmacy, and by our bathroom attendant.

Don't get me wrong, I watched my little darlings and checked their fevers, which were so unnoticeable that other fevers didn't recognize them. I promise on my doctor's prescription pad that we know him well!   I've learned a thing or two about  "sick"  and we do check ups and immunizations and we've had our freak out moments and surgeries and procedures and godforsaken prescriptions!  So when they do get puny, I keep their pasty arses at my address and confine everyone to their quarters and cover the house in bleach and holy water.   and I appreciate it when other parents follow suit and aren't selfish douchebags for the rest of us.
Because getting sick at my address means I get the craptastic job of washing SEVEN sets of sheets and dealing with the unspeakable buckets of gross if a stomach bug is on board.  And it feels like the whole house needs to be bathed.  with a flamethrower. 

I realize things are butt tightening these days.  We don't have sissy germs anymore and everything on tv is made to scare the bejesus out of us.  The other night on our local news, they reported a woman who was being transported to one of our hospitals who may have possibly, "we don't know" could have been infected with Ebola and her relatives may have just returned from Africa "we think".  And that kind of thoughtless, fear infusing reporting is not helping.  And people freaked.  My local Facebook pals lit up Facebook like a Christmas Tree.  And it was like a category 5 was headed this way and we all better get to Walmart and buy a kazillion bottles of water before Armageddon.  By morning, the story had vanished and it was more likely that she encountered a bad burrito at the 7-Eleven. 

And it doesn't help that we're all head scratching and wondering who is in charge of this thing and who's gonna Chuck Norris Roundhouse that bastard out of here.  Because right now, we ain't seein' it!  And we are scaring each other and our kids. If you wanna talk to your kids about this without freakin them out more, check out my pal's article in the Washington Post on how to talk to your kids about Ebola.  She writes this little blog you may have heard of, Rants.  Check it out! Thankfully we live in a day with antibiotics and vaccines and so when we come upon something we scratch our head at, it makes us freak and turn into Eunice from Mama's Family. 
This Ebola thing is nothing to make fun of but we have to keep sane.  It makes the other germs feel far less creepy, if nothing else. 

Speaking as a mama who doesn't knee jerk to the doctor before engaging my own neurons, remember this...you are the parent.  You got them here this far.  You are doing a wonderful job.  You take care of your babies and are teaching them to live in this world that can sometimes be scary.  Listen to your gut and trust those you have in your life who've had your back before.   And when the school calls and says your baby is sick, remember that being sick is what kids do.  It's how their little immune systems stretch their legs. And don't forget, to take care of YOU.   Because we need YOU!

With germ-x covered hands,

Monday, October 13, 2014

Six Pack version 2.0

Becoming a single mom just when my six pack got all half-grown and mouthy and waaaay smarter than me was probably not the smartest thing I've ever done.  Last time I mentioned them, they were mostly still harmless.  Now they are as big or bigger than me.  And I am the mayor of stupidity.  I'm sure they're surprised I can form sentences, walk upright and have opposable thumbs.  And I don't understand anything they deal with because I was never a teenager.  I just showed up one day, with a house full of kids, all old and stove up.

So here's a snapshot of where they are now. Do you even remember their names? Because I get them mixed up.

There's always that ONE kid who can't cooperate.  Thanks for the creepiness Slick!
 
I hope you know I've had to write some icky stuff that's not my usual subject in my last couple of posts because, well, people want to know.  And since some of y'all have been with me a bit, I felt like I owed a little backstory.  I mean, I have new mess now, so you won't be all like "Whuck?" when I mention it.  Now that I've done that, we can get back to nonsense. 

I thought when I had a half dozen little people running around with runny noses, dirty diapers and gross sippy cups lost in the prison bus I drove, who were never not hungry, that I was obviously doing the hardest job I would ever have. ever. because I never slept and never did anything but wipe noses and butts and drink adult beverages.  But now, I don't have to keep up with noses and butts so much, rather what I do have to keep up with is emotionally challenged kids with constant drama and constant eye rolls and why does everything have to be crucial to the stability of the universe?!  And since I'm too simple minded to actually be taken seriously on any advice, I'm just the lady they go to for meals and clean towels and to fix crap and find them money. 

And the house has turned into a frat house with one functional bathroom, no clean towels and the milk in the fridge has about a teaspoon left because it's harder to throw it away in the trash can next to the fridge than return it empty.  Seriously.  Awhile back I found the milk still in the fridge one day after it expired with the word "Expired" written on it.  I haven't decided if this was a message to me or a bizarre form of laziness.  I have limited neurons firing as it is these days, so I have to pick my battles.

As I share my frat house with you, I also have a few new cast members that will be on board to introduce.  And I need a new name for Baby-Screams-a- Lot since she's obviously mastered the baby stage.  She is so giddy and laughs constantly, but being six she's also still uncoordinated. Super uncoordinated.  She broke her arm this year on the monkey bars and then thought it would be fun to break the same spot again by just falling off a bar stool (she's just like her mama!) and spent the year in a cast.  And I'm thankful for her because she's the only non- teenager and she's silly and bumps into everything and it's like being with a little drunk person.  So we totally get each other.


My name for my triplet girl on this page of mine was "Buttercup" after the Power Puff girl because the was all cute and squeaky.  But if you crossed her, she'd cut open a vein.  It fit.  The Power Puff girls are B list celebs at best now, probably doing a bit in Vegas, opening for Wayne Newton.  But luckily I found another Buttercup that matches her well, from one of the best movies ever, The Princess Bride. 


One new cast member I'd like you to meet today, is my sister.  She's got me through a bunch of  nonsense and has a witty, bad ass attitude and we have each other to make fun of the sharp edges in life when we want to ugly cry.  Our texts may make it here some.  When I started my annulment, because I'm still churchy and all and don't want my kids to think marriage is disposable, she's been my ranting post as I dealt with having to tell a bunch of church folks my story.  Seriously, it's been more harsh than the divorce, so when she checked in on me, our texts were like medicine to my spirit.

I'm sure you have a "Karen" in your life, so you get it.  Now I just need to come up with a new name for my awkwardly funny six year old and maybe introduce some new nonsense.  If you have an idea, put it out there because "drunk six year old" ain't gonna take.  And if you've never seen "The Princess Bride" we need to rethink our friendship.  Watch it tonight with your crew.

As you wish,,

Monday, October 6, 2014

Adult Playmates

I wrote a post a few years ago called Foxhole Friends, which one of my "fans" generously nominated for a blog award and is a post I continue to revisit.  It's about the people who stick by you no matter what, even if you walk next to them with your skirt stuck in your crack.  They still claim you.  They still are your biggest fan and your greatest friend.  The word "friend" is a funny word but has become so overdone that it's lost its meaning.  We have Facebook friends and work friends and church friends, and friends we don't-know-how-we-exactly-met-them friends to the point where you refer to anyone you have met as your "friend". 

But they aren't. 

They are just people who are pleasant enough to work with or helped you that time on the church organ fund or you went to high school with them a lifetime ago and they were in your junior chemistry class.  you think.  And it sorta pisses me off because I think it diminishes the value of  real true friends whom I treasure like my thundernaps (the rare occasion moms get to stay in bed while it's raining).

I'm not saying they aren't good for anything because we all need people to connect with to survive all the ten hundred roles we have in being a grown up. But it led me to some brain stretching and I've decided to take a word from my kids' vocabulary and call these people "Adult Playmates".  I know it sounds a little Hugh Hefner and porny but stay with me.  Because the things we do with these people are much like "Playdates".  We are around these people for some reason like work, or to unwind with or maybe even they are people we actually enjoy in small doses but don't want to drink from the fire hose and hang with them ad nauseam and sometimes they just need to go!  They are not the ones around when you get a call from a nurse saying "we got the test results back and you need to come in to discuss some things with your doctor".

Just like you, I've gone through some harsh nonsense, like my *shh* unspeakable divorce.  It was a looong, disgusting, infectious-open-sore kind of time and lasted an eternity.  I thought it would. never. ever. end. ever. And I was amazed at who wanted to go jump in that quicksand with me. 
And who never even showed up with a ladder. Or a twig.  Or a glass of wine.

My variety of "friends" were typical churchy, career, school, theatre, you get it.  And the biggest disappointment were those I thought I was closest to... my churchy ones.  There were a few who surprised me and love me still and I love them like bacon, but the huge majority of them wanted nothing to do with my nonsense.  I can understand, sort of. But I was the same person they were drawn to who led bible studies, Sunday school, and helped out with every.blessed.thing. I was with them in their struggles, their miscarriages, their fears.  And I tried to talk to them about my mess, my fears, my indecision.  I kept hearing only one common denominator... "You should pray about it".  That was the extent of their "friendship", not having a real conversation about it.
What did they think I'd been doing all this time?  Did they think I hadn't thought of that?  I was praying.  I was still suffering and unsure of so much. I tried to reconcile.  I tried to make it better. Who wants to mess with the lives of six kids and screw up family life and friendships and life plans and start murther freaking over ?! Obviously it was THAT bad.  I was on the Titanic and needed a lifeboat and they wanted to rearrange the deck furniture.  While they put their fingers in their ears.

Maybe they didn't know what to say.  Maybe they were conflicted and didn't want to help because it would be like putting a stamp of approval on something they didn't want for me and somehow that would have reflected on them as a churchy person.  Maybe it was because it was I who left.  And there was no "one big thing" that led me to it.  It was not one sucking chest wound that made me leave.  It was a thousand paper cuts that got me there. 
But I bled the same.



And they quietly left.
If this is what people think I'm even more awesome than I thought!
And the invitations to hang out left. The offers to "have coffee sometime" never came to fruition.
And their kids couldn't play with my kids because I guess, they would catch "the divorce" from us.
There were even a few episodes of "you might want my husband now that you're divorced and have NO ONE so you can't hang out with us anymore" people.  Honey, I never wanted your man when I was married, so why would I want him now? And after listening to you bitch about him for 20 years, you ain't exactly sold me on the merchandise, it's like selling rat poison to someone who doesn't have a rat problem.  But you do!  And I think I can have my own man when and if I want, who actually wants to be with me because I am freaking amazing!

And my Foxhole Friends?  Mostly in the beginning and still, were my theatre peeps.  They were the least judgey and most understanding listeners I could want.  They cheered for me in the loneliness and hugged me in my failures.  They even said to pray about it, but they also listened and offered me hope.  They said I wouldn't die and I wasn't going to Hell. 
After I moved out and got a job, I met a gal at work who was the polar opposite of me.  We had extremely different views on politics, religion and lifestyle.  We liked different foods at our lunches, had different taste in clothes and yes, in men too.  She was very Melissa Maccarthy to my multiple personalities. She was a straight shooter which I LOVE.   She wasn't and still isn't a church person, but if I needed her she showed up!  I've met few people in this world who have been such an example of "do unto others" as she has been.  Ironically, she's one of the most "Christian" women I know. 

I had a realization of Adult Playmate friends when I had Sean, but apparently didn't get the whole lesson.  It's also been good for me to remember to jump in that quicksand when I see someone needing a ladder.  We are all supposed to be here for one another because motherhood and family life is stupid hard.  And we all fail at some point.  And it's ok and right that we all have mostly playmate friends as long as we also have foxhole friends for the real stuff and it makes us appreciate them even more.  We just need to get better at discerning who is who and not get bent and hormonal when we get the relationship confused.  And we all know people who just aren't equipped for the kind of depth most of us want in our besties.  So today, I challenge you to check on someone you know to be dealing with something and surprise them with a ladder.  I hope I just did.

Peace as always,




Thursday, October 2, 2014

MamaJulep: The Interview (aka: what happened?)

It's been awhile since I've been on this nonsense blog of mine and I can tell you I've missed this like Miley Cyrus misses sanity.  When we last spoke, she had no knowledge of what twerking was.  And now?  Holy Hell Miley, please put some clothes on!  And use some of your kajillion bucks and hire someone to reality slap your face, because we're all vomiting in our mouths a bit over you.


And speaking of nonsense, I've really had my fill of it.  I wanna catch you up to speed about why I disappeared and, No, even though I threatened to join the Witness Protection Program, I just had to lay low.  And no, my kids didn't lock me in the closet. Not yet. 

I left the country life.  Left my mom up there in it. 
And left Mr. Green Jeans.  He and I were married for almost twenty years and considering the needs of our six pack, it required my complete attention.  It was a difficult time and I moved slowly trying to figure out the best way to navigate through something that was and still is, ugly and harsh.  Losing you all and this site was a bitter pill to choke down, but I just couldn't focus here.  And there were other things.

Things like people in my real-walking-around world who didn't approve and would have loved nothing more than to come to this site and get all Gladys Kravitz on my personal life.  Seeing as my knuckleheads could read all this, I just couldn't risk my worlds colliding like that.  Who wants to go through the hardest thing in your life in front of the whole world? Just because a few folks didn't approve of my decision didn't make them right. Even now, I want to explain all the nonsense to you, but can't let my babies read even a little of the drama they don't need, so I will dish it out in small bites if it's relevant.


Be certain of this...my site has never been one to be ugly or name call.  Vent? Oh, Mother of God, YES. 
Rant? Oh, yes x 10! But to be ugly just to be ugly?
Never.
And I will not do that regarding Mr. Green Jeans.
It will be difficult sometimes.  Like splitting atoms.

One little bite I can offer is this...  I feel in marriage you have one job.  To get the other person to Heaven.  You do that and all the other stuff will follow.  You raise them up, be their cushion in a world full of sharp edges.  If you both do that, you win.  If only one does that job, then the other is full of holes.  Almost two decades of holes was enough.  I had done all I could do.  Even Mr. Green Jeans admits I took my marriage and family seriously and made them my priority.  I wish I could say more but you will just have to bear with me.  At least I'm not posting videos of me twerking...right?

So what will I be writing about?  There's soooo freaking much I have to get out and I am hoping y'all will let me know where to start.  There's a whole rant in me about friends in divorce but I'm gonna need a large bottle glass of wine to get that one out.  My six children are now five teenagers and one to grow on.  No sober woman should ever raise five teenagers alone. The eye rolls alone could cause permanent damage.  These days, I never #*@king stop running people places and my ass has a permanent indention of my driver's seat. Would you like to hear about a 47 year old woman with six kids DATING?!  Yes, I went there.  It's both ugly and thrilling at the same time.  Kinda like American Idol auditions, you never know what's gonna come out of somebody.  Could be great!  Could be a restraining order!  Oh, and my six pack and I are gonna be on T.V!  Because who doesn't like to watch a train wreck on a loop?

And my extended family is still bat$hit crazy.  And the world is still in need of some adjusting. And nonsense surrounds me like it's the universe's full time job to keep me occupied.

So be patient.  I'm just getting started. 

 



Tuesday, September 30, 2014

MamaJulep is BACK!

Holy Cow! I think I got my blog back out of the vortex.  This is just a test to see if it makes it to  you, my devoted people who either still love me or were too lazy to delete mamajulep from your news feed.  So as a favor, before I begin my dribble, please comment so I can see this made it out there.  Say or ask anything!  Let me know what y'all wanna hear about first because I have SO FREAKING MUCH to say!

Love,

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

What I Missed...

Yes, it's really me.

I did not join the Witness Protection Program as I often threatened.

My six pack did not finally lock me in that bedroom closet of mine with  my vodka blankie & orange milano cookies.

I did not lose the password to my blog account...however my brain has swallowed so much horse maneur in the last year that I can't remember my maiden name, much less how to post an articulate stream of words on this nonsense blog of mine.  

So what is up with Mamajulep?

Just know that life has been in the shizzles and I've had to get real creative in my juggling skills.  You peeps who have stuck around and wondered if I'd ever emerge again are awesome and I love your freaking guts!  A slew of defcon 1 nonsense in my personal life has catapulted a whole bunch of bat$h*t crazy relatives and friends into my world.  All I can do now is deal with mucked up family and well-meaning-but-nosey onlookers who feel they have a dog in this fight that is mine.  I've tried to keep my nonsense my own, mostly for the sake of my sweathogs...but my mouth is a bit trigger happy and is all too ready to do a Chuck Norris roundhouse on the next Gladys Kravits that crosses my SUV path.

My slothy kids are doing just fine, doing as little as possible, per usual.  Marsha Brady entered high school, cell phone permanently affixed to her palm.  Slick, Buttercup & Rainman made it to middle school-phone calls have already started my way.  It's not like those teachers have never met Mamajulep, you'd think they learned from last year! Mini-me is right behind them, still in charge.  "Baby Screams a Lot" is now a four year old and less than a year away from kindergarten.  I don't know how that happened but I cannot. freaking. wait. for. it. Amen.

Speaking of the youngest in my tribe...it is a funny thing when you have a kid who is much younger than your other knuckleheads.  She doesn't act like other normal four year olds.  She acts like a teenager in a little person's body.  She loves music like Maroon 5 (well who can blame her?) and she can keep up with the crew when it comes to a good smarta$$ comeback.  I am enjoying seeing her embrace her own personality.

But I am so bummed I have missed out making fun of so much in the last year.  What all did I miss?

Here's a short list...

The Fifty Shades of Grey Trilogy


Ok, I have actually read this.  I'm trying to get through the last book now.  I have to say..."What is the freakin' big ass deal?"  This is a couple who fell in love and they...have...sex.  Wow.  I don't want to say much in case you have it on your wish list but I don't see their behavior as being over sexed-seeing as they are in their twenties!  The storyline isn't believable and sadly, it is predictable.  As for the sex scenes, I wouldn't say I'd go down all the roads they go down but for the most part, they are a normal couple, in love.  She does go into some detail about some of their "experiences" and she uses grown up words to describe who does what to whom, but frankly it didn't do that much for me.  I got more worked up watching Dermot Mulroney in "The Wedding Date".  all. sixteen. times.

Magic Mike

I was coerced into going to this movie for my 45th birthday but I got to hang out with my peeps so it was fun.
As for the movie...Lots of hupla about nothing. 

And I can never look at Matthew McConaughey the same way again.  I've never cared for men with no meat on their bones and seeing him half naked made me lose my sex drive appetite. At least Fifty Shades of Grey had a storyline. even if it was unbelievable.


Music

I think I could hear "Call Me Maybe" every day and still smile.  But whomever wrote Katy Perry's "Wide Awake" must have been sniffing their shoes because the lyrics consist of..."I'm wide awake" over and over again.  It describes every single night each of us parents have experienced for most of our adult life.  Where's the fun in that? I hope Katy gets a thesaurus for Christmas this year.

Leap Year

oh yay...we get an extra day this year to cook, clean, carpool, beg, cry and hopefully consume an adult beverage to deal with the nonsense that is parenthood! If you've ever been here before you've read my post on how the movie "Groundhog Day" is a must read for new parents.  Every. day. is. the. same.

Jerry Sandusky

I am uber-annoyed that the dedicated players and students have to pay for the mistakes of a few  jackholes at Penn State.   You don't have to be a sports nut to get that this is just wrong. enough said.

Katie Left Tom

about dadgum time!

Thank you, all the way- from the deepest places in my heart, for still being here to read my little scribblings.  I'm not promising to write every day again, but I am gonna try and stretch my legs here a little more.  Let me hear from you, and what you want to hear about!