Well - it's that time of year again...spring has sprung and for many of us the end of the spring season is sheer and utter madness. It seems like May and June bring with them an onslaught of Opening Days, sports practice schedules, end-of-the-year picnics, parties and festivities as well as a fair share of First Communions, Graduations, and Weddings. And as exciting as those events are, it seems like no spring-time event brings more excitement, expectation and utter dread that THE SENIOR PROM. (OK - maybe weddings surpass proms in terms of excitement, but proms have the whole hormonal teenager thing going on - so I'd say that proms outweigh weddings in terms of expectation and utter dread.)
PC and I often remark that we know that we're getting really, really old when we watch a group of kids, headed to prom or homecoming, and make the following comments:
"How'd she get out of the house wearing THAT?"
"Do you think he looked in a mirror and SAW what his hair looked like before he left the house?"
"Are her parents BLIND????"
"Does Zach Efron know that you borrowed his look for the night?"
and my personal favorite: "There is no possible way there is any underewear under that."
Sad, huh? PC and I were out one evening when a group of kids walked passed us, clearly headed out to dinner before their junior prom. As we looked at the array of dresses the girls were wearing, PC made an interesting remark. He said: "I know I'm getting old when I look at some of these dresses the girls are wearing and all I can think about is Bella walking out the door in one of these in a few years. And I'm terrified!" When I pressed him for more information, he told me that his thought process has completely changed in the past few years. That when he was younger, he'd see some hot young chick-a-dee in one of these slinky numbers and think: "Now that's one hot chick-a-dee" (OK - maybe not an exact quote of what he would actually think- but you get the idea.) But now, it's as if a switch has been flipped in his brain and his first thoughts when he sees these young girls in these sexy dresses are: "God, how old is she?" and "How did her father let her walk out of the house in a hanky?"
So, this has been weighing on my mind lately. Are we really turning into our parents? Are we really getting old and un-cool and un-hip? OR are some of these prom dresses waaaaay to sexy for 16 and 17 year old girls. And WHY on earth are their parents buying them?
I think back to my own prom, and I still chuckle about MY prom dress. My prom dress was totally AWESOME - and I had to fight like a dog with a bone to get it. I found it at a store in the mall and instantly fell in love with it. It was black, strapless and short...the 3 adjectives that my mother warned me would NOT describe my senior prom gown. It was also ridiculously expensive and waay, waay out of the generous price range my parents gave me. So, I had quite a problem. For some reason that still confounds us, my mom let me try it on. The fit was perfect, the look was perfectly unique - in short, it was exactly what I wanted. Remember, I went to prom in the era of the John Hughes movie - when PROM NIGHT was supposed to be this magical night where teenagers transformed into adults and true love always won out on prom night. The right boy would show up at your door looking all dreamy in his tux....and canvas high tops that matched the color of your dress. You would dance the night away,gaze into each other's eyes on the dance floor during the perfect song, and then after the prom go to a party at someone's lake house, and under the stars your beloved, perfect boyfriend would look into your eyes and tell you that he loved you and there, in the moonlight, you would have the most magical experience of your whole life.
How could ANY of this happen if I was wearing a dress that my mother would approve of???????? No, I remember thinking that I HAD to get this dress. I coached the sales girl in the dressing room to tell my mom that this dress was "demure" and "sweet". I remember hearing my mother's laughter through the door of the fitting room. So, off we went for the rest of the day - looking for another dress. I think back to that day with a mixture of amusement and remorse. Amusement at the balls I had to act the way I did. And remorse over the fact that I had the balls I had to act the way I did! I walked around that mall for hours pooh-poohing ANYTHING my mother showed me. Anything at all. Noting was right, everything I tried on looked "awful", was "horrible" and just didn't fit the bill. Now understand, we weren't shopping in Junction City Kansas where the only dress shop in town also sells cow feed. We're talking Bergen County, NJ - mall capital of the world! This is where the Real Housewives of NJ shop for God's sake! However, there was only 1 dress on the whole planet that I wanted. By then end of the day, my mother was so angry and frustrated that she took me home with NO dress and told me that I'd have to go to prom in an old dress because there was obviously nothing that would suit me available.
So, I did what any reasonable 18 year-old girl would do. I went crying to my father. Now, I often think that my father lived through my teenage squabbles with my mother by developing what I like to call "Charlie Brown Ear". You know how in Charlie Brown cartoons, whenever a grown-up talks, all we hear is "Wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa". This is what MUST have happened because I KNOW that my mom came home and told him all about this "ridiculous" dress that I wanted and how it was black and strapless and that I behaved like a spoiled brat all day. I KNOW she did - she had to. Furthermore, as he tried to soothe both of us - I distinctly remember her saying that SHE was NOT going to take me shopping for a prom dress ever again. And when he suggested that this was sort of a ridiculous stance to take as the prom tickets were already purchased and the limo paid for and that she might want to rethink her decision...she told him in NO uncertain terms that if He wanted me to have a new dress for prom then HE could take me shopping for it.
BINGO!!!! This, my friends, is when the clouds parted and the heavens began to sing. I was going to get that dress.
So, off we went to the mall the next Saturday. My poor, unsuspecting adoring father. He was like a lamb to the slaughter poor guy. He had NO IDEA of how conniving an 18 year old girl on a mission could be. You see, I am sad and sorry to admit this...but I had already called the store and spoken with the sales lady. I told her that my Dad was coming in to look at the dress and that he was a "bit concerned" with it being strapless. maybe she could find a little, sexy bolero jacket that I could try on with the dress? So, as we are passing the store - FILLED with prom-type dresses. he says "Well, why don't we look in here?" You see, I knew that he wanted to get in and get out - so I strategically parked near the entrance closest to this particular store. Lamb to the slaughter I tell you...
So, of course the dress was already set aside in a dressing room and I selected several other frothy things to try on - knowing that I would never, ever even try them. When I walked out in that "long sleeved" dress - I said: "What do you think?" He thought it looked good, but the price was steep. So, I casually mentioned that the big hot pink bow in the back was missing a snap and that we'd have to have that repaired. Well, the saleslady cut the price of the dress! It was still expensive - especially NOW since we added a bolero jacket - but he took the bait!!!!! And since it was "damaged" (I can't IMAGINE how that happened!) it was a FINAL SALE - no returns or exchanges.
Understand - I knew that I was taking my life in my hands here - for my mother was going to hit the ROOF when we got home. But I was like a crazed woman - I had to have THIS dress. It was worth life and limb! Well...you can imagine the scene when I got home. I actually think I've blocked some of it out...because I really only remember a bit of yelling and wearing that beautiful dress to the prom. Oh - and "forgetting" the jacket at home.
Unfortunately, the prom and the ensuing "prom night" was NOTHING like the magical John Hughes movie experience I was expecting. My date - my boyfriend at the time - acted weird all night. I found out the next day that he was acting wierd because he basically cheated on me the DAY OF THE PROM with an old girlfriend. Then we got into a HUGE argument and he ended up throwing his big, giant key ring at my HEAD. Like I said - not quite the night I was hoping for. We were broken up by the time the prom pictures came back. Pictures that I angrily tore up in a fit of self righteous rage. He RUINED MY prom night - that rat bastard.
That was 20 years ago this weekend. I still laugh when I think about it. Not about the cheating scandal - but the dress story! However - as I get closer and closer to the day that I have to shop for a prom dress with Bella - I wonder if Karma is really going to be that bitch that everyone says she can be. because I KNOW I deserve it. Will Bella be one of those girls that a 30-something couple will look at and think:"HOW did she get out of the house like that?"?
Over my dead body....Bella's got to remember - she's dealing with a Prom Night Pro here....
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Feet Don't Taste all that Great: A Disclaimer
Sooooooo...it's been a long day. Thanks for all of the great responses to the last post - the post about The Real Hosewives of NJ. I LOVE that so many of my friends are reading and enjoying the blog. However, it has come to my attention that I need to make a few things clear to my loyal readers.
First and foremost - this blog is my creative outlet. And by "creative" I mean - I take great license with many - OK ALL - of my stories.Many of you know that writing a book is somewhere on my bucket list and I look at this blog as a launch pad to that. Just a way to write every few days to hone and improve my skills. Are some of the stories true? Absolutely. However - in order to make them funnier, more interesting to read or to make a point - I do embellish and add words to people's mouths. As most authors do.
And while that's all well and good - I feel that I do have to clarify a few points. When I write about "my parents" - and "my mother" in particular - ALMOST EVERYTHING that I write as dialogue that comes out of their mouths is fabricated. While Fifi, Sookie, Her Awesomeness, Carrie, Hermione and Glynnis are indeed real people - the "parents" that I write about are truly caricatures of my own parents. Whenever I mention one of my girls in the blog - I always alert them to the fact. And furthermore, I would never write about anything that might embarrass or identify who they actually are. I try to write about them in ways that relate to me directly or more specifically, how they help me live and manage my crazy life.
My "blog parents" are different. While the stories and events that I write about are based on actual events, the reactions of my "blog parents" are largely fictionalized. I do this for 2 reasons - first and foremost - my actual parents are not all that tech savvy and don't ever log onto the blog. Therefore - they cannot defend themselves or comment about anything that I would write about them. And secondly - my actual parents are very private people and in truth, just not all that terribly funny. (And I mean that with great love and devotion.) So - to create a funny blog, I created funny parents.
Again - well and good and well within my creative license...however, with so many people actually reading the blog now - I felt that I really had to make that point crystal clear. It's one thing to put my stuff out there - but I need to clarify that these "blog parents" are just characters. I need to do this because in my last post, I said something that was offensive - and I wrote it as coming out of my "blog parents" mouths. And for that I am truly sorry. It was a statement that my actual parents - 2 of the nicest people on earth - would NEVER say. However - it did read as "my parents" - not my "blog parents that I made up to make people laugh". Now, while Fifi and Hermione and Sookie would know this without my having to SAY it - people who don't know my real parents might think that they are morons based on what I wrote them saying. And for that - I am truly sorry. As my husband so often tells me - everyone can't read what's going on inside of my head. And while many of you who truly know me and my parents have surmised that many of the blog stories are just that - stories, I fear that some readers might not realize that.
So, in short, when you read "One Busy Momma", please understand that the stories and musings truly are coming from my creative place and are only loosely based in the reality of my everyday life. My everyday life is the breeding ground for my stories, and while many of the stories are true - many details surrounding them have been changed to make them funnier, to protect the innocent or to make them fit into whatever I'm thinking about that day. It is meant to be your laugh of the day, to give you a good giggle and to maybe lighten up your week. Please look at it more as an Erma Bombeck type of forum as opposed to CNN.
First and foremost - this blog is my creative outlet. And by "creative" I mean - I take great license with many - OK ALL - of my stories.Many of you know that writing a book is somewhere on my bucket list and I look at this blog as a launch pad to that. Just a way to write every few days to hone and improve my skills. Are some of the stories true? Absolutely. However - in order to make them funnier, more interesting to read or to make a point - I do embellish and add words to people's mouths. As most authors do.
And while that's all well and good - I feel that I do have to clarify a few points. When I write about "my parents" - and "my mother" in particular - ALMOST EVERYTHING that I write as dialogue that comes out of their mouths is fabricated. While Fifi, Sookie, Her Awesomeness, Carrie, Hermione and Glynnis are indeed real people - the "parents" that I write about are truly caricatures of my own parents. Whenever I mention one of my girls in the blog - I always alert them to the fact. And furthermore, I would never write about anything that might embarrass or identify who they actually are. I try to write about them in ways that relate to me directly or more specifically, how they help me live and manage my crazy life.
My "blog parents" are different. While the stories and events that I write about are based on actual events, the reactions of my "blog parents" are largely fictionalized. I do this for 2 reasons - first and foremost - my actual parents are not all that tech savvy and don't ever log onto the blog. Therefore - they cannot defend themselves or comment about anything that I would write about them. And secondly - my actual parents are very private people and in truth, just not all that terribly funny. (And I mean that with great love and devotion.) So - to create a funny blog, I created funny parents.
Again - well and good and well within my creative license...however, with so many people actually reading the blog now - I felt that I really had to make that point crystal clear. It's one thing to put my stuff out there - but I need to clarify that these "blog parents" are just characters. I need to do this because in my last post, I said something that was offensive - and I wrote it as coming out of my "blog parents" mouths. And for that I am truly sorry. It was a statement that my actual parents - 2 of the nicest people on earth - would NEVER say. However - it did read as "my parents" - not my "blog parents that I made up to make people laugh". Now, while Fifi and Hermione and Sookie would know this without my having to SAY it - people who don't know my real parents might think that they are morons based on what I wrote them saying. And for that - I am truly sorry. As my husband so often tells me - everyone can't read what's going on inside of my head. And while many of you who truly know me and my parents have surmised that many of the blog stories are just that - stories, I fear that some readers might not realize that.
So, in short, when you read "One Busy Momma", please understand that the stories and musings truly are coming from my creative place and are only loosely based in the reality of my everyday life. My everyday life is the breeding ground for my stories, and while many of the stories are true - many details surrounding them have been changed to make them funnier, to protect the innocent or to make them fit into whatever I'm thinking about that day. It is meant to be your laugh of the day, to give you a good giggle and to maybe lighten up your week. Please look at it more as an Erma Bombeck type of forum as opposed to CNN.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
The "REAL" Housewives? Come on now...
So - it's the most wonderful time of the year. The sun is shining, the roses are blooming, new life abounds....and yes, The Real Housewives of New Jersey are back BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Many of you know of my stalker-like devotion to these wise-cracking, fast-talking, no bullshit-taking ladies of Bergen County, NJ. (Giving a shout-out to all of the ladies in Franklin Lakes and Upper Saddle River here!)
I was never a big fan of the Real Housewives series on Bravo TV. In fact, when the Real Housewives of the OC premiered, I didn't even watch it. I thought it was a flash-in-the-pan reality show, and frankly, I'm way too busy to add new shows to my already too crowded tv show list. Between working, taking care of the kids and PC - I don't have tons of extra time. And if I have to make a choice between talking to Fifi at night and watching TV - well - Fifi always wins. (Unless she calls during LOST - sorry Fifs) Between my LOST and Grey's Anatomy devotion - well, that's just about all I have time for these days. So, when the Real Housewives of NJ premiered, although highly interested, I really didn't tune in.
Until that one fateful weekend, when I came down with some sort of cold or flu or other non-life threatening illness that made me just sick enough to zonk out on the couch and watch tv all weekend while PC took the kids to the pool. And what to my wondering eyes should appear but a "Real Housewives" marathon on Bravo TV. And my life has never been quite the same. First I watched an entire season of "The Real Housewives of NY". Quite enjoyable, I must say. There are enough over-the-edge personalities in that show to keep it quite interesting. Totally unrealistic - what with a Countess, a Brooklyn-based housewife married to the most openly gay straight man on the East Coast, a wise-cracking personal chef who is SINGLE - yet featured as a "housewife", a rich Yenta from the Upper-East Side and a Ramona - who can only be described as a COMPLETE wack-adoo. Like all of the other Housewives shows in the franchize - the New York show features women who have money we can only dream of, problems we hope to never have and catfights that have not been featured on television since big shoulder pads and Kenneth Jay Lane jewelry were considered chic. Watching the New York show is like sitting in a hot bath with a good glass of wine and a People magazine on a Saturday night. Satisfying and relaxing - yet somewhat sad.
Once the New York show marathon had run its course, and my fever and sore throat hadn't, I decided to tune in the next day to see the New Jersey show marathon...and that my friends is when the magic happened.
Suddenly - I was transported back to the land of my childhood - the land of my people. A place where women swear like sailors when they're mad - and the men find it sexy. A land where money buys love and true happiness. A place where big IS beautiful - big hair, big handbags, big diamonds and big "bubbies" (aka: boobs) are celebrated. Ahhh - north Jersey - the place that I call home. Jersey takes alot of crap from people. I've heard it called the armpit of America, I've suffered thru people doing crass and stupid sounding imitations of our melodious Jersey speech patterns, and I've seen people attribute huge fashion faux pas - like acid washed jeans - to Jersey. Well, well, well - Thanks to women like Carolyn Manzo, Jacqueline Staub and Theresa Guidice - North Jersey is FINALLY getting the respect and representation that it deserves. These ladies represent some of the BEST Bergen County, New Jersey has to offer. I know - because as my mother likes to remind me....I was one bad decision away from being one of them.....
Oh yes, loyal readers...I dipped my toe into the pool of ridiculous, North Jersey Italian family excess and loyalties. In my youth I dated and thought I loved a boy who could have given me that life style...who actually did give me a bit of that lifestyle....much to my parents' horror! The idea that I might actually marry this kid was almost more than they could bear. ESPECIALLY a boy who lived in a huge house in Upper Saddle river, who drove a car that cost as much as our first house and lavished me with gifts that bore labels that read Fendi, Vuitton, Gucci, Borghesi, Rolex and on and on. All at the tender age of 17 mind you....
I've heard people say that the New Jersey show is just as fake and phony as the rest of them....not so I'll argue. By now - if you haven't heard about the infamous "table flip" - you've either been living under a rock or pursuing a much more meaningful life - and then good for you. You freak. Anyway - I digress. In the last show of the 1st season of the Jersey housewives, there was a showdown between 2 of the ladies. The way it went down was classic Jersey - one said "Pay Attention" and the other said "I AM Payin attention - you prostitution whore.....at my shore house....." and then she flipped a table at the alleged prostitution whore. Big friggin deal - who HASN'T been at a nice, north Jersey restaurant with a big Italian family where a table hasn't been flipped? My girlfriends in Maryland were horrified by this display of raw emotion and rage. Me? Not so much. I can honestly say that I've been out to dinner at a very nice establishment in Jersey where not one - but 2 tables were flipped. By the people I was eating with. No one got shot - no one stopped speaking to anyone else at the table. They got mad, they exchanged words, and one of the guys got so enraged that he flipped our table. And then - he was still pretty pissed off - so he flipped the next table over. Big deal...by gones - ya know? We all went home - to the same house, the 2 hotheads worked it out and we all took a dip in the pool. Seriously - a true story. And yes - we went back to the restaurant - the same restaurant where we ate every Friday night - the following weekend and all was well.
I think that watching this show actually does transport me back in time. I can identify with these women. I undertstand what Theresa means when she says things like "uncleansy". I understand their fierce loyalty to their families - I learned that from my own family. I can understand why Caroline - the "matriarch" if you will - took the blame for ruining another woman's reputation in town when the culprit was actually her younger sister.This show isn't really about money or excess or boob jobs - it's about family - and loyalty. Yes - the excess and the money is fun to watch - but it's not what keeps me coming back for more. I keep tuning in because I see something of myself in these women. I can relate to Caroline - the fierce family lioness who so famously and threateningly said "in my family - we're as thick as thieves" to her arch-nemesis. I see my much younger self in Theresa - the table flipping girl who just wants bigger "bubbies" and to make babies with her indulgent husband - Joe. I see a version of my teenage self in Jacqueline - who is torn between fitting into this family that she married into and loves and her true, authentic self who doesn't really want or need Caroline and company telling her what to think and who to befriend. I see alot of my 17 year-old self in Jacqueline actually. I can so relate to these women in fact that after watching the table flip with me - PC actually made a very intense and telling comment. He said: "You know, as gay as this sounds - I'm glad that I watched this. I feel like I understand you better now that I've seen that." And I swear to God - it's true. he's never been able to understand how I can go from normal to ENRAGED in 60 seconds FLAT and then back to normal once I yelled and shouted and cursed it all out Jersey style. It used to unnerve him - and dare I say it - scare him a little bit! I think he finally gets that my propensity to get intensly passionate about things is my Jersey coming out!
As I write this, I am reminded to my first few weeks living in Maryland. It was rough - really, really hard on me. Here I was - 18 years old, HUGE, HUGE hair, great designer clothes and shoes, makeup galore, accesories to match every outfit, expensive perfume and an over possessive, wealthy and somewhat controlling boyfriend back in Jersey. I was trying to find my place in a place where girls wore their hair long and straight - in pony tails that were embellished with ribbons. I remember seeing this popular hairdo and thinking that we were reveryting back to prarie days! Girls in Maryland wore a kind of short called a 'lacrosse short". I had no idea what lacrosse WAS - never mind what kind of fashion choices the sport called for. NO ONE I was rooming with had a boyfriend who drove a Monte Carlo,a gold Mercury Cougar, or even a Beemer convertible. None of these boys had designs shaved into the sides of their heads - or even wore an earring. These boys wore madras plaid shorts with deck shoes, listened to rastifarian music, and smoked weed. Not Marlboros! And they all thought that I had an "accent". They made me say words like "drawer" and "water" over and over again. It was a nightmare. Like boot camp for Jersey girls. But -I found my place. The hair eventually deflated, the accessories became a bit understated, the boyfriend got lost and I actually met a nice boy who has never flipped a table or gotten into a fist fight at a bar or club or thrown car keys or anything else at my head. I'd say I traded up!
However - I do sometimes miss that tough talking, hair teasing, fashionista who lived inside and outside of me. And I'm so glad that I get to revisit her every Monday night from 10-11pm as I watch my beloved housewives. You should try it.....you might find YOUR inner Jersey girl...even if you do still wear a pony tail tied with a ribbon that matches your lacrosse shorts....
I was never a big fan of the Real Housewives series on Bravo TV. In fact, when the Real Housewives of the OC premiered, I didn't even watch it. I thought it was a flash-in-the-pan reality show, and frankly, I'm way too busy to add new shows to my already too crowded tv show list. Between working, taking care of the kids and PC - I don't have tons of extra time. And if I have to make a choice between talking to Fifi at night and watching TV - well - Fifi always wins. (Unless she calls during LOST - sorry Fifs) Between my LOST and Grey's Anatomy devotion - well, that's just about all I have time for these days. So, when the Real Housewives of NJ premiered, although highly interested, I really didn't tune in.
Until that one fateful weekend, when I came down with some sort of cold or flu or other non-life threatening illness that made me just sick enough to zonk out on the couch and watch tv all weekend while PC took the kids to the pool. And what to my wondering eyes should appear but a "Real Housewives" marathon on Bravo TV. And my life has never been quite the same. First I watched an entire season of "The Real Housewives of NY". Quite enjoyable, I must say. There are enough over-the-edge personalities in that show to keep it quite interesting. Totally unrealistic - what with a Countess, a Brooklyn-based housewife married to the most openly gay straight man on the East Coast, a wise-cracking personal chef who is SINGLE - yet featured as a "housewife", a rich Yenta from the Upper-East Side and a Ramona - who can only be described as a COMPLETE wack-adoo. Like all of the other Housewives shows in the franchize - the New York show features women who have money we can only dream of, problems we hope to never have and catfights that have not been featured on television since big shoulder pads and Kenneth Jay Lane jewelry were considered chic. Watching the New York show is like sitting in a hot bath with a good glass of wine and a People magazine on a Saturday night. Satisfying and relaxing - yet somewhat sad.
Once the New York show marathon had run its course, and my fever and sore throat hadn't, I decided to tune in the next day to see the New Jersey show marathon...and that my friends is when the magic happened.
Suddenly - I was transported back to the land of my childhood - the land of my people. A place where women swear like sailors when they're mad - and the men find it sexy. A land where money buys love and true happiness. A place where big IS beautiful - big hair, big handbags, big diamonds and big "bubbies" (aka: boobs) are celebrated. Ahhh - north Jersey - the place that I call home. Jersey takes alot of crap from people. I've heard it called the armpit of America, I've suffered thru people doing crass and stupid sounding imitations of our melodious Jersey speech patterns, and I've seen people attribute huge fashion faux pas - like acid washed jeans - to Jersey. Well, well, well - Thanks to women like Carolyn Manzo, Jacqueline Staub and Theresa Guidice - North Jersey is FINALLY getting the respect and representation that it deserves. These ladies represent some of the BEST Bergen County, New Jersey has to offer. I know - because as my mother likes to remind me....I was one bad decision away from being one of them.....
Oh yes, loyal readers...I dipped my toe into the pool of ridiculous, North Jersey Italian family excess and loyalties. In my youth I dated and thought I loved a boy who could have given me that life style...who actually did give me a bit of that lifestyle....much to my parents' horror! The idea that I might actually marry this kid was almost more than they could bear. ESPECIALLY a boy who lived in a huge house in Upper Saddle river, who drove a car that cost as much as our first house and lavished me with gifts that bore labels that read Fendi, Vuitton, Gucci, Borghesi, Rolex and on and on. All at the tender age of 17 mind you....
I've heard people say that the New Jersey show is just as fake and phony as the rest of them....not so I'll argue. By now - if you haven't heard about the infamous "table flip" - you've either been living under a rock or pursuing a much more meaningful life - and then good for you. You freak. Anyway - I digress. In the last show of the 1st season of the Jersey housewives, there was a showdown between 2 of the ladies. The way it went down was classic Jersey - one said "Pay Attention" and the other said "I AM Payin attention - you prostitution whore.....at my shore house....." and then she flipped a table at the alleged prostitution whore. Big friggin deal - who HASN'T been at a nice, north Jersey restaurant with a big Italian family where a table hasn't been flipped? My girlfriends in Maryland were horrified by this display of raw emotion and rage. Me? Not so much. I can honestly say that I've been out to dinner at a very nice establishment in Jersey where not one - but 2 tables were flipped. By the people I was eating with. No one got shot - no one stopped speaking to anyone else at the table. They got mad, they exchanged words, and one of the guys got so enraged that he flipped our table. And then - he was still pretty pissed off - so he flipped the next table over. Big deal...by gones - ya know? We all went home - to the same house, the 2 hotheads worked it out and we all took a dip in the pool. Seriously - a true story. And yes - we went back to the restaurant - the same restaurant where we ate every Friday night - the following weekend and all was well.
I think that watching this show actually does transport me back in time. I can identify with these women. I undertstand what Theresa means when she says things like "uncleansy". I understand their fierce loyalty to their families - I learned that from my own family. I can understand why Caroline - the "matriarch" if you will - took the blame for ruining another woman's reputation in town when the culprit was actually her younger sister.This show isn't really about money or excess or boob jobs - it's about family - and loyalty. Yes - the excess and the money is fun to watch - but it's not what keeps me coming back for more. I keep tuning in because I see something of myself in these women. I can relate to Caroline - the fierce family lioness who so famously and threateningly said "in my family - we're as thick as thieves" to her arch-nemesis. I see my much younger self in Theresa - the table flipping girl who just wants bigger "bubbies" and to make babies with her indulgent husband - Joe. I see a version of my teenage self in Jacqueline - who is torn between fitting into this family that she married into and loves and her true, authentic self who doesn't really want or need Caroline and company telling her what to think and who to befriend. I see alot of my 17 year-old self in Jacqueline actually. I can so relate to these women in fact that after watching the table flip with me - PC actually made a very intense and telling comment. He said: "You know, as gay as this sounds - I'm glad that I watched this. I feel like I understand you better now that I've seen that." And I swear to God - it's true. he's never been able to understand how I can go from normal to ENRAGED in 60 seconds FLAT and then back to normal once I yelled and shouted and cursed it all out Jersey style. It used to unnerve him - and dare I say it - scare him a little bit! I think he finally gets that my propensity to get intensly passionate about things is my Jersey coming out!
As I write this, I am reminded to my first few weeks living in Maryland. It was rough - really, really hard on me. Here I was - 18 years old, HUGE, HUGE hair, great designer clothes and shoes, makeup galore, accesories to match every outfit, expensive perfume and an over possessive, wealthy and somewhat controlling boyfriend back in Jersey. I was trying to find my place in a place where girls wore their hair long and straight - in pony tails that were embellished with ribbons. I remember seeing this popular hairdo and thinking that we were reveryting back to prarie days! Girls in Maryland wore a kind of short called a 'lacrosse short". I had no idea what lacrosse WAS - never mind what kind of fashion choices the sport called for. NO ONE I was rooming with had a boyfriend who drove a Monte Carlo,a gold Mercury Cougar, or even a Beemer convertible. None of these boys had designs shaved into the sides of their heads - or even wore an earring. These boys wore madras plaid shorts with deck shoes, listened to rastifarian music, and smoked weed. Not Marlboros! And they all thought that I had an "accent". They made me say words like "drawer" and "water" over and over again. It was a nightmare. Like boot camp for Jersey girls. But -I found my place. The hair eventually deflated, the accessories became a bit understated, the boyfriend got lost and I actually met a nice boy who has never flipped a table or gotten into a fist fight at a bar or club or thrown car keys or anything else at my head. I'd say I traded up!
However - I do sometimes miss that tough talking, hair teasing, fashionista who lived inside and outside of me. And I'm so glad that I get to revisit her every Monday night from 10-11pm as I watch my beloved housewives. You should try it.....you might find YOUR inner Jersey girl...even if you do still wear a pony tail tied with a ribbon that matches your lacrosse shorts....
Monday, April 26, 2010
So, 2 Princesses Walked Into the Woods....
...and make it out alive! Yes my dear readers - Bella and I survived our camping adventure in the wilderness. And we actually enjoyed ourselves! Can you believe that?? Now, it was no weekend at the Ritz....it wasn't even a weekend at the Holiday inn Express - but it also wasn't the tour of Deliverance country that I was picturing.
My first clue that we were going to be OK was when I read the directions and realized that we were only 20 minutes away from home. You literally drive through a neighborhood to get to this camp site. So - it wasn't like Bella and I had to park the car and rely on our wits and questionable sense of direction to find humanity again.I also knew I'd be OK when I realized that I could get fresh, hot coffee at the Royal Farms that was about 7 minutes away.Once I had my emergency coffee connection in place - I relaxed a bit.
We ended up heading out there a night earlier than I had originally planned - Friday night. We were expecting heavy rain on Saturday night, and I knew that we'd miss the campfire if we didn't head up there on Friday night. My initial thinking was that we could stay Friday night and if it was truly awful - make like trees and leave on Saturday evening after dinner. So, we packed like maniacs - and brought waaaay too much - and got to the campground before dark. The cabins held about 10 people - bunk beds, electricity...the whole 9 yards. We wound up leaving our troop's main cabin because there wasn't room for one of Bella's girlfriends in the cabin. So 3 moms and 3 girls wound up in another 10 man cabin - and it was AWESOME!!! We were able to spread out and it wasn't crazy loud at night - so I thank the good Lord that there was "no room in the inn". That was the first thing that worked in my favor.
I did learn a few things about packing for camping. First and foremost - I probably wouldn't bring actual really cute pjs next time. I'd stick to sweats. There really isn't a secret, camp-fire girl fashion show out in the woods and the pjs were a bit of overkill. The other thing I learned was that bringing an extra bag filled with emergency shoes was really not neccessary. I brought slippers, flip-flops. wellies, sneakers, crap sneakers and pull on bad weather shoes for myself and nice and crappy sneakers, slippers and flip flops for Bella. Counting the shoes on our feet - that was 12 pairs of shoes for about a day and a half. Again - a bit of overkill - but then again - isn't some scouting motto "always be prepared'? I also will think twice before bringing my nice, goose-down filled pillows because Bella dropped mine - twice - in mulch on the way to the cabin. I won't put it back on the bed until it is professionally cleaned now because the bugs that could have crawled into my hair and ears are now probably living in the pillow waiting to invade me as I sleep.
As for my list of fears - I am happy to report that:
I was not bitten by any bugs
Nothing stung me
I did not get that nasty case of "cabin lung" that I was anticipating
My hair is no worse for wear and did not get infested by a family of bugs
So far - no under-the-skin bug eggs have been detected - although Glynnis is reveling in telling me that I probably have something called "chiggers" by now. Not Googling them cause I don't want to know....
I survived the hike in the woods and did not fall, get lost, get bitten by the infamous bel Air rattlesnake, did not get attacked by a bear or racoon or fox
I have no signs of poison ivy on any of my bits and pieces
A bear did not walk into the cabin
There were no mad men wandering in the woods
The only thing I forgot to bring was my makeup - can you believe it????Me - without my spakle or sparkle! I almost went home to get it - but I resisted the urge. And once I just gave it up to...smokey - the god of the campfire...and relaxed...it was really, really fun! The leaders planned a really relaxed trip. We had breakfast in our pajamas - and I will admit - I did get up early to shower and dress before breakfast - but I wore sweats. The girls played, made tee shirts, we went on a hike and communed with nature, our troop made lunch for the group of 50, and then the girls participated in a series of Olympic Events that were planned and executed by the older girls. And they had a freaking blast! It was the first Saturday in a really long time that I just SAT and relaxed and spent uninterrupted time with Bella. Ever since I went back to work - Saturdays and Sundays are jam packed with errands and games and practices and activities and birthday parties. And I really hate that. It was nice to sit and do nothing but laugh and truly enjoy myself.
I think the most enjoyable part of the trip was witnessing the true, pure friendships that the girls were celebrating. There was no bullying, no one was left out, no one was made to feel "less than". The girls worked and played well with everyone. Sure they have little groups and certain girls work better with certain other girls - but there was none of the mean girl business that we're starting to see in school. I was thrilled to see Bella playing and laughing with girls she has been in school with since they were 3 - girls she's been scouting with since they were 5. It did my heart good to watch her interact with other girls and realize that she's going to be OK in the friends department. For whatever reason - we really struck gold with this Brownie Troop. The girls are all strong, confident, NICE little girls - without exception. And our 3 fearless scout leaders are truly heaven sent in that they model all of those important scouting and leadership virtues for the girls.
On Saturday night, as I watched Bella bridge from Brownie Girl Scout to Junior Girl Scout - I cried, of course. I'm such a dork, I know. But, watching her take these big steps is so amazing to me. She is growing and changing so quickly now. She is still a little girl - but watching her this weekend has been amazing and eye opening. She is far more capable and independent than I give her credit for. She truly doesn't "need me" like she needed me the last time she bridged from Daisy Scout to Brownie Scout. And I think that's why I cried. I know that our goal as mothers is to help them grow those wings so that they can fly away. I could see Bella's little wings this time - whereas I couldn't the last time she bridged. It's bitter sweet to watch this happen. I just want her to be little for a little bit longer. I want her to still want to snuggle in bed with me and watch a movie. I want her to keep thinking that I have all of the answers and that I can keep her safe from the boogey-man, and clowns - who she's still horribly afraid of. These days are limited...she is in that changling phase where she is still sleeping with her beloved blankies, Pink and Pinkie...while listening to Justin Beiber on her IPOD and reading Pixie magazine.
After bridging, the girls had skits and a lip synching/dance party. It was so much fun and they all had a blast. Sunday morning arrived - and I can't say that my heart didn't sing to know that I was 20 minutes away from a HOT bubble bath. When the royal carriage (that looks surprisingly like a company-issued minivan) pulled out of the campground - my princess turned to me and said: "See Mom, that wasn't so bad - was it? You did great!" I caught my heart in my mouth - because that was exactly what I was planning on telling her.
My first clue that we were going to be OK was when I read the directions and realized that we were only 20 minutes away from home. You literally drive through a neighborhood to get to this camp site. So - it wasn't like Bella and I had to park the car and rely on our wits and questionable sense of direction to find humanity again.I also knew I'd be OK when I realized that I could get fresh, hot coffee at the Royal Farms that was about 7 minutes away.Once I had my emergency coffee connection in place - I relaxed a bit.
We ended up heading out there a night earlier than I had originally planned - Friday night. We were expecting heavy rain on Saturday night, and I knew that we'd miss the campfire if we didn't head up there on Friday night. My initial thinking was that we could stay Friday night and if it was truly awful - make like trees and leave on Saturday evening after dinner. So, we packed like maniacs - and brought waaaay too much - and got to the campground before dark. The cabins held about 10 people - bunk beds, electricity...the whole 9 yards. We wound up leaving our troop's main cabin because there wasn't room for one of Bella's girlfriends in the cabin. So 3 moms and 3 girls wound up in another 10 man cabin - and it was AWESOME!!! We were able to spread out and it wasn't crazy loud at night - so I thank the good Lord that there was "no room in the inn". That was the first thing that worked in my favor.
I did learn a few things about packing for camping. First and foremost - I probably wouldn't bring actual really cute pjs next time. I'd stick to sweats. There really isn't a secret, camp-fire girl fashion show out in the woods and the pjs were a bit of overkill. The other thing I learned was that bringing an extra bag filled with emergency shoes was really not neccessary. I brought slippers, flip-flops. wellies, sneakers, crap sneakers and pull on bad weather shoes for myself and nice and crappy sneakers, slippers and flip flops for Bella. Counting the shoes on our feet - that was 12 pairs of shoes for about a day and a half. Again - a bit of overkill - but then again - isn't some scouting motto "always be prepared'? I also will think twice before bringing my nice, goose-down filled pillows because Bella dropped mine - twice - in mulch on the way to the cabin. I won't put it back on the bed until it is professionally cleaned now because the bugs that could have crawled into my hair and ears are now probably living in the pillow waiting to invade me as I sleep.
As for my list of fears - I am happy to report that:
I was not bitten by any bugs
Nothing stung me
I did not get that nasty case of "cabin lung" that I was anticipating
My hair is no worse for wear and did not get infested by a family of bugs
So far - no under-the-skin bug eggs have been detected - although Glynnis is reveling in telling me that I probably have something called "chiggers" by now. Not Googling them cause I don't want to know....
I survived the hike in the woods and did not fall, get lost, get bitten by the infamous bel Air rattlesnake, did not get attacked by a bear or racoon or fox
I have no signs of poison ivy on any of my bits and pieces
A bear did not walk into the cabin
There were no mad men wandering in the woods
The only thing I forgot to bring was my makeup - can you believe it????Me - without my spakle or sparkle! I almost went home to get it - but I resisted the urge. And once I just gave it up to...smokey - the god of the campfire...and relaxed...it was really, really fun! The leaders planned a really relaxed trip. We had breakfast in our pajamas - and I will admit - I did get up early to shower and dress before breakfast - but I wore sweats. The girls played, made tee shirts, we went on a hike and communed with nature, our troop made lunch for the group of 50, and then the girls participated in a series of Olympic Events that were planned and executed by the older girls. And they had a freaking blast! It was the first Saturday in a really long time that I just SAT and relaxed and spent uninterrupted time with Bella. Ever since I went back to work - Saturdays and Sundays are jam packed with errands and games and practices and activities and birthday parties. And I really hate that. It was nice to sit and do nothing but laugh and truly enjoy myself.
I think the most enjoyable part of the trip was witnessing the true, pure friendships that the girls were celebrating. There was no bullying, no one was left out, no one was made to feel "less than". The girls worked and played well with everyone. Sure they have little groups and certain girls work better with certain other girls - but there was none of the mean girl business that we're starting to see in school. I was thrilled to see Bella playing and laughing with girls she has been in school with since they were 3 - girls she's been scouting with since they were 5. It did my heart good to watch her interact with other girls and realize that she's going to be OK in the friends department. For whatever reason - we really struck gold with this Brownie Troop. The girls are all strong, confident, NICE little girls - without exception. And our 3 fearless scout leaders are truly heaven sent in that they model all of those important scouting and leadership virtues for the girls.
On Saturday night, as I watched Bella bridge from Brownie Girl Scout to Junior Girl Scout - I cried, of course. I'm such a dork, I know. But, watching her take these big steps is so amazing to me. She is growing and changing so quickly now. She is still a little girl - but watching her this weekend has been amazing and eye opening. She is far more capable and independent than I give her credit for. She truly doesn't "need me" like she needed me the last time she bridged from Daisy Scout to Brownie Scout. And I think that's why I cried. I know that our goal as mothers is to help them grow those wings so that they can fly away. I could see Bella's little wings this time - whereas I couldn't the last time she bridged. It's bitter sweet to watch this happen. I just want her to be little for a little bit longer. I want her to still want to snuggle in bed with me and watch a movie. I want her to keep thinking that I have all of the answers and that I can keep her safe from the boogey-man, and clowns - who she's still horribly afraid of. These days are limited...she is in that changling phase where she is still sleeping with her beloved blankies, Pink and Pinkie...while listening to Justin Beiber on her IPOD and reading Pixie magazine.
After bridging, the girls had skits and a lip synching/dance party. It was so much fun and they all had a blast. Sunday morning arrived - and I can't say that my heart didn't sing to know that I was 20 minutes away from a HOT bubble bath. When the royal carriage (that looks surprisingly like a company-issued minivan) pulled out of the campground - my princess turned to me and said: "See Mom, that wasn't so bad - was it? You did great!" I caught my heart in my mouth - because that was exactly what I was planning on telling her.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Somebody HELP Me!!!!
So - in the annals of total insanity...I am going camping this weekend. Now, for those of you who truly know me - you are probably asking yourselves: WTF? For those of you who don't know me that well..."camping" to me is staying at a Holiday Inn or some sort of "motel". The whole idea of real-life camping - in the outdoors, with all forms of creatures and critters- is TERRIFYING to me. Truly, truly terrifying. I do not like the outdoors. Now, don't get me wrong - I enjoy sitting by a nice pool, or sitting on a nice beach somewhere...but being in an outdoor environment that is not patrolled by waiters and towel boys is not my idea of a good time.
So, the question is: WHY on EARTH am I going camping????? The simple answer is: Bella. Bella's brownie troop is camping this weekend and she wants to go. Quite shocking to me - but she really wants to go and won't go if I don't go. So, I'm off to the woods. I am so out of sorts about this adventure, that I couldn't sleep last night. So, I decided that I would do the mature thing and make a list of all of the things I am scared of and then rationalize them away. So - about an HOUR later - here is my list:
I am afraid that:
bugs will crawl on me while I sleep
bugs will crawl into my ears
bugs will crawl into my hair
a snake will slither into my sleeping bag
a mouse or other awful rodent will crawl on me in my sleep
a bear will come into our cabin and eat me or Bella
some sort of bug like creatures will bore into and under my skin and lay eggs
Something will sting me
I will get poisoned ivy or oak or whatever the hell else is poisonous and I will scrtach myself crazy and spread it before I know any better and I will get poisoned ivy blisters on my lady parts
I will get left behind on some sort of hike and be lost forever in the woods and when someone finds me, I will look like Clare on LOST.
While sleeping in these cabins (yes - cabins - no tent camping for me!) I will breathe in some sort of awful mold that will set up shop in my lungs and I will be sick for weeks on end
By the end of the trip - I might smell as I am afraid to take a shower in the showers
A crazy person will wander into the camp and take us all hostage or worse
And last - but not least - Bella and I will get some sort of disease from the toilets
And here is the problem with this list - all of that stuff CAN happen!Seriously. And when followed to the worst possible outcome - the outcomes of any one of these scenarios is pretty, pretty bad. ESPECIALLY the very IDEA of getting poisoned ivy on my lady bits and pieces. Or having bugs crawl into my ears. I honestly could not sleep last night. So, in an effort to protect myself from some of this awfulness - I am packing the following supplies:
toilet paper - the nice soft kind from home
bug repellant
calamine lotion
sneakers - for running thru the woods - and I will wear them with jeans - which I realize is a HUGE fashion faux-pas - but in this case I think Anna Wintour would forgive me
2 blackberries - in case one breaks or looses it's signal and I'm stuck out in the wilderness
my portable GPS navigational system
my flip camera - so that I can record my last moments "Blair Witch" style
a bottle of wine - cause I'll need it
a bottle of valium - self explanatory
Tylenol with codene - in case I break, sprain or bruise something
2 or 3 pillows - to make my sleeping nest
sheets for the bunk
my brand new sleeping bag - that is not even pink and has NO sparkle!
towels that smell like Bounce fabric softener
I'd really like to bring my air purifier for the cabin
my kindle
tampons - cause wouldn't you know it
a kick ass first aid kit
really cute baseball caps in case my hair gets all messed up
ear plugs - so that no bugs can crawl in while I sleep
my camera
benadryl
my rosary beads
So that is my plan of attack. I am seriously sweating this. I don't know if I'll be able to do this. I get really cranky when I don't sleep and I'm sure that there will be very little sleeping happening. What was I thinking? Why didn't I offer to take Bella to a spa instead???????? WHY didn't I make that vagazilling appointment I've been interested in making?
Little known fact - when one gets vagazilled, one cannot engage in any "vigourous activity" for 24 hours. I'd say that girl scout camping is vigourous activity - right????
So, now I have to finish packing and doing laundry. Then I'm taking Bella to the craft store to get a nice, quiet craft to do tomorrow afternoon during our "down time". I'm going to hit the road around 7:45 tomorrow morning. I'm getting coffee for some of the other moms who are staying over TONIGHT - crazy people I tell you. Staying out in the wilderness for 2 whole nights. They are now TWICE as likely to get eaten by a bear as me. That makes me feel a bit better. (It's every man for herself once you get out there.)
If I make it out of the woods alive - I'll update you all next week. If I don't make it out - it's been fun peeps.
So, the question is: WHY on EARTH am I going camping????? The simple answer is: Bella. Bella's brownie troop is camping this weekend and she wants to go. Quite shocking to me - but she really wants to go and won't go if I don't go. So, I'm off to the woods. I am so out of sorts about this adventure, that I couldn't sleep last night. So, I decided that I would do the mature thing and make a list of all of the things I am scared of and then rationalize them away. So - about an HOUR later - here is my list:
I am afraid that:
bugs will crawl on me while I sleep
bugs will crawl into my ears
bugs will crawl into my hair
a snake will slither into my sleeping bag
a mouse or other awful rodent will crawl on me in my sleep
a bear will come into our cabin and eat me or Bella
some sort of bug like creatures will bore into and under my skin and lay eggs
Something will sting me
I will get poisoned ivy or oak or whatever the hell else is poisonous and I will scrtach myself crazy and spread it before I know any better and I will get poisoned ivy blisters on my lady parts
I will get left behind on some sort of hike and be lost forever in the woods and when someone finds me, I will look like Clare on LOST.
While sleeping in these cabins (yes - cabins - no tent camping for me!) I will breathe in some sort of awful mold that will set up shop in my lungs and I will be sick for weeks on end
By the end of the trip - I might smell as I am afraid to take a shower in the showers
A crazy person will wander into the camp and take us all hostage or worse
And last - but not least - Bella and I will get some sort of disease from the toilets
And here is the problem with this list - all of that stuff CAN happen!Seriously. And when followed to the worst possible outcome - the outcomes of any one of these scenarios is pretty, pretty bad. ESPECIALLY the very IDEA of getting poisoned ivy on my lady bits and pieces. Or having bugs crawl into my ears. I honestly could not sleep last night. So, in an effort to protect myself from some of this awfulness - I am packing the following supplies:
toilet paper - the nice soft kind from home
bug repellant
calamine lotion
sneakers - for running thru the woods - and I will wear them with jeans - which I realize is a HUGE fashion faux-pas - but in this case I think Anna Wintour would forgive me
2 blackberries - in case one breaks or looses it's signal and I'm stuck out in the wilderness
my portable GPS navigational system
my flip camera - so that I can record my last moments "Blair Witch" style
a bottle of wine - cause I'll need it
a bottle of valium - self explanatory
Tylenol with codene - in case I break, sprain or bruise something
2 or 3 pillows - to make my sleeping nest
sheets for the bunk
my brand new sleeping bag - that is not even pink and has NO sparkle!
towels that smell like Bounce fabric softener
I'd really like to bring my air purifier for the cabin
my kindle
tampons - cause wouldn't you know it
a kick ass first aid kit
really cute baseball caps in case my hair gets all messed up
ear plugs - so that no bugs can crawl in while I sleep
my camera
benadryl
my rosary beads
So that is my plan of attack. I am seriously sweating this. I don't know if I'll be able to do this. I get really cranky when I don't sleep and I'm sure that there will be very little sleeping happening. What was I thinking? Why didn't I offer to take Bella to a spa instead???????? WHY didn't I make that vagazilling appointment I've been interested in making?
Little known fact - when one gets vagazilled, one cannot engage in any "vigourous activity" for 24 hours. I'd say that girl scout camping is vigourous activity - right????
So, now I have to finish packing and doing laundry. Then I'm taking Bella to the craft store to get a nice, quiet craft to do tomorrow afternoon during our "down time". I'm going to hit the road around 7:45 tomorrow morning. I'm getting coffee for some of the other moms who are staying over TONIGHT - crazy people I tell you. Staying out in the wilderness for 2 whole nights. They are now TWICE as likely to get eaten by a bear as me. That makes me feel a bit better. (It's every man for herself once you get out there.)
If I make it out of the woods alive - I'll update you all next week. If I don't make it out - it's been fun peeps.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
An Ode to Moms Who Do Too Much.....and Make the Bull Roast Art Project
Ok - well maybe not an "ode" - because right now, I'm not quite sure what an "ode" is. I'm thinking it's some sort of poem that praises the subject. I'm too tired to rhyme or reason. Here is what I am doing right now - right this very second: while writing this post, I am doing a load of laundry, letting a gigantic planter that I've just painted for a school project dry, working with Bella on her Social Studies test prep. cooking dinner, answering work emails AND trying to get into a work website that appears to be malfunctioning. Literally. Seriously - all at the same time. And I wonder why I am so tired at night and fall asleep before 9pm!
And here is the sad part - even while doing those 7 activities - I STILL have at least 10 more on my "To-Do" list. I can never seem to get it all done. And I really wonder about the people who ARE able to get it all done. There is an evil, awful part of me that really likes to think that people who live in perfectly kept houses, who wear perfectly pressed clothing, who hand in every school assignment in perfect handwriting, who have perfect nails and perfectly clean cars - are really maladjusted, dysfunctional human beings who don't sleep and clean and iron all night long. These people, in my estimation, have terribly unhappy lives and produce unhappy, stressed out kids who have perfection complexes because their home always has to be PERFECT. I like to think that these people, who wear perfectly plastered smiles all of the time and who are always "GREAT" are really screaming banchies who yell at their kids every time they drop a kernel of popcorn on the rug - think Kate Gosslein.
But that's petty of me. I'm really just terribly jealous of these people who manage to have full time careers and still seem to have it all together. Do they really have it all together? Is the upstairs of their house as perfect and tidy as the downstairs parts that they let everyone see? Or does their bedroom or guestroom look like a pit of chaos? WHERE does the chaos LIVE in their homes??????? Are they really as perfect as they seem? Probably not - at least that's what I keep telling myself.
I have a really good friend - we'll call her Hermione - who is very similar to me in the "she does waaaay too much" category of life. And I wonder why we are the way we are. For example, this is the busiest season of the year for me, professionally. On any given night - I might be away in a hotel, or driving 200 miles - one way - to get to a client and then driving home - in the dark. And then getting up at the butt-crack of dawn to do it all again. I know what this time of year is like in my business - I've been in this industry for 10+ years. It's no surprise. What IS a surprise, however, is my absolute WILLINGNESS to volunteer for PROJECTS at Bella or Jack's school that require serious TIME, EFFORT, ENERGY and THOUGHT during this 8 week period! I'm not talking chaperoning a field trip here (which, of course I'm doing)- I'm talking coordinating and MAKING the class Bull Roast Art project.
What is a Bull Roast Art project you ask? Well, it is only one of the most coveted and sought after item at the biggest fund raiser of the school year. You see, every year, our school hosts a Bull Roast. (A dinner/dance and silent/live auction) It is one of the big money makers for the school. While feasting on oysters, pit beef and ham and getting pretty drunk, people walk around and silently bid on donated items. Now, my kids go to a pretty nice school - so we're not taking scented candles and hand lotion here. We're talking Coach bags, Vera Bradley accessories, Lilly Pulitzer jackets and clothing, hot air balloon rides, ski packages and what have you. (One year there was a STRIPPER POLE and STRIPPER SHOES for auction. Seriously. And I didn't win them despite my ridiculous, drunken bid. Boy was PC upset over that one. But i digress...) Anyway - in addition to these great silent auction items, there are "class bull roast art projects" that are auctioned off. And these particular items can go for BIG, BIG bucks. I've seen them go for THOUSANDS of dollars - for real. The class projects usually feature something that the boys and girls in your kid's class make. Some classes do big serving platters with the kid's thumbprints or handprints on them. Some classes make scrapbooks of their year together. Some classes make mosaic mirrors. And then there are the "over-the-top awesome" projects that bring in the big-ass bucks. Like the homemade puppet theater complete with handmade puppets that one class "made". Or the handmade hope chest that featured professional artwork on the outside and pictures of each child decoupaged on the inside cover - complete with their favorite memories of that year written on the inside of the perfectly, professionally varnished chest. Let's not forget the beautiful, handpainted Adirondack chairs with the school's mascott expertly painted onto the chair with each kid's name written on the back. One mom from each class signs up to take charge of this project at the beginning of the school year. Guess who does it for Bella's class every year? Yep - me. And what type of project do you think I hand in?
If you think I hand in a sad, sorry-assed project that is lucky if it brings in $25.00 - stop reading my blog you a-hole. No way, Jose - no lame-assed projects for me. My motto is GO BIG OR GO HOME - BITCH. I go for the gold. I push myself to craft the biggest money-maker year after year. (Now - NEVER, EVER has my project made the most money - but I do try.) I am so damned competitive - I even bid the damn thing up myself if I think it's going for too low of a price. Yes - I am THAT lady. Why? you ask? Good question. It's not like anyone says" "Wow that's the nicest birdbath I've ever seen, Mary! Can I commission you to make 100 of them - at 100K a pop?" No, it's all about ME. My competition with - I don't know who - Martha Stewart maybe? Isn't it NUTSO? I am a crazy, insane person to torture myself like this year after year.
So, here I am tonight- painting a big planter that I'm going to embellish with fingerprint bugs and animals made by the boys and girls. Then I will write some sort of song lyric or verse around the edge and then I will spray the whole thing with some sort of polyurethane and hand it in and watch it all night long to see how much it goes for - and if another 3rd grade project sells for more. And GOD help me if it does. That will just toast my freaking onions. And while I'd like to say that I do it all for my kids - let's get real here. My kids don't care if I ever do the stupid Bull Roast project. I do it for me - for the sick satisfaction I get from my project going for at least $100.00. I need therapy - I know it.
So, tonight while painting said planter, I'll trying to catch up on laundry, review Social Studies, multiplication facts, do Jack's homework with him, clean up from the dinner I cooked...all so that I can sit down and rework the household budget after the kids have showers and go to bed. If I finish that - there is always the yard sale I want to plan, the basement I want to clean, the desk I really need to clean, the kitchen cabinet that I really want to clean out.......and on and on and on.
And PC wonders why I aske for a nice medically induced coma for Mother's Day every year.....
And here is the sad part - even while doing those 7 activities - I STILL have at least 10 more on my "To-Do" list. I can never seem to get it all done. And I really wonder about the people who ARE able to get it all done. There is an evil, awful part of me that really likes to think that people who live in perfectly kept houses, who wear perfectly pressed clothing, who hand in every school assignment in perfect handwriting, who have perfect nails and perfectly clean cars - are really maladjusted, dysfunctional human beings who don't sleep and clean and iron all night long. These people, in my estimation, have terribly unhappy lives and produce unhappy, stressed out kids who have perfection complexes because their home always has to be PERFECT. I like to think that these people, who wear perfectly plastered smiles all of the time and who are always "GREAT" are really screaming banchies who yell at their kids every time they drop a kernel of popcorn on the rug - think Kate Gosslein.
But that's petty of me. I'm really just terribly jealous of these people who manage to have full time careers and still seem to have it all together. Do they really have it all together? Is the upstairs of their house as perfect and tidy as the downstairs parts that they let everyone see? Or does their bedroom or guestroom look like a pit of chaos? WHERE does the chaos LIVE in their homes??????? Are they really as perfect as they seem? Probably not - at least that's what I keep telling myself.
I have a really good friend - we'll call her Hermione - who is very similar to me in the "she does waaaay too much" category of life. And I wonder why we are the way we are. For example, this is the busiest season of the year for me, professionally. On any given night - I might be away in a hotel, or driving 200 miles - one way - to get to a client and then driving home - in the dark. And then getting up at the butt-crack of dawn to do it all again. I know what this time of year is like in my business - I've been in this industry for 10+ years. It's no surprise. What IS a surprise, however, is my absolute WILLINGNESS to volunteer for PROJECTS at Bella or Jack's school that require serious TIME, EFFORT, ENERGY and THOUGHT during this 8 week period! I'm not talking chaperoning a field trip here (which, of course I'm doing)- I'm talking coordinating and MAKING the class Bull Roast Art project.
What is a Bull Roast Art project you ask? Well, it is only one of the most coveted and sought after item at the biggest fund raiser of the school year. You see, every year, our school hosts a Bull Roast. (A dinner/dance and silent/live auction) It is one of the big money makers for the school. While feasting on oysters, pit beef and ham and getting pretty drunk, people walk around and silently bid on donated items. Now, my kids go to a pretty nice school - so we're not taking scented candles and hand lotion here. We're talking Coach bags, Vera Bradley accessories, Lilly Pulitzer jackets and clothing, hot air balloon rides, ski packages and what have you. (One year there was a STRIPPER POLE and STRIPPER SHOES for auction. Seriously. And I didn't win them despite my ridiculous, drunken bid. Boy was PC upset over that one. But i digress...) Anyway - in addition to these great silent auction items, there are "class bull roast art projects" that are auctioned off. And these particular items can go for BIG, BIG bucks. I've seen them go for THOUSANDS of dollars - for real. The class projects usually feature something that the boys and girls in your kid's class make. Some classes do big serving platters with the kid's thumbprints or handprints on them. Some classes make scrapbooks of their year together. Some classes make mosaic mirrors. And then there are the "over-the-top awesome" projects that bring in the big-ass bucks. Like the homemade puppet theater complete with handmade puppets that one class "made". Or the handmade hope chest that featured professional artwork on the outside and pictures of each child decoupaged on the inside cover - complete with their favorite memories of that year written on the inside of the perfectly, professionally varnished chest. Let's not forget the beautiful, handpainted Adirondack chairs with the school's mascott expertly painted onto the chair with each kid's name written on the back. One mom from each class signs up to take charge of this project at the beginning of the school year. Guess who does it for Bella's class every year? Yep - me. And what type of project do you think I hand in?
If you think I hand in a sad, sorry-assed project that is lucky if it brings in $25.00 - stop reading my blog you a-hole. No way, Jose - no lame-assed projects for me. My motto is GO BIG OR GO HOME - BITCH. I go for the gold. I push myself to craft the biggest money-maker year after year. (Now - NEVER, EVER has my project made the most money - but I do try.) I am so damned competitive - I even bid the damn thing up myself if I think it's going for too low of a price. Yes - I am THAT lady. Why? you ask? Good question. It's not like anyone says" "Wow that's the nicest birdbath I've ever seen, Mary! Can I commission you to make 100 of them - at 100K a pop?" No, it's all about ME. My competition with - I don't know who - Martha Stewart maybe? Isn't it NUTSO? I am a crazy, insane person to torture myself like this year after year.
So, here I am tonight- painting a big planter that I'm going to embellish with fingerprint bugs and animals made by the boys and girls. Then I will write some sort of song lyric or verse around the edge and then I will spray the whole thing with some sort of polyurethane and hand it in and watch it all night long to see how much it goes for - and if another 3rd grade project sells for more. And GOD help me if it does. That will just toast my freaking onions. And while I'd like to say that I do it all for my kids - let's get real here. My kids don't care if I ever do the stupid Bull Roast project. I do it for me - for the sick satisfaction I get from my project going for at least $100.00. I need therapy - I know it.
So, tonight while painting said planter, I'll trying to catch up on laundry, review Social Studies, multiplication facts, do Jack's homework with him, clean up from the dinner I cooked...all so that I can sit down and rework the household budget after the kids have showers and go to bed. If I finish that - there is always the yard sale I want to plan, the basement I want to clean, the desk I really need to clean, the kitchen cabinet that I really want to clean out.......and on and on and on.
And PC wonders why I aske for a nice medically induced coma for Mother's Day every year.....
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Um - Yeah, That Didn't Go So Well...and Other Musings
So - the no sugar experiment is officially over. It lasted about 24 hours. And, as I like to say - it sucked ass - big time. It was horrible. First of all - trying to do it while there is about 87 pounds of chocolate in this house was insane. Second of all - trying to do it AT ALL was insane! However - the experiment and the research leading up to the experiment HAS made me very, very aware of exactly HOW MUCH sugar I HAVE been consuming and how I need to STOP eating and drinking so much of it.So, all in all - even though I have sneaked a few chocolate eggs - I'm much more mindful and aware of what I'm putting in my mouth. So, I'm counting the 24-hours sugar free as a huge success.
The "Eat Clean Diet" book should come with some sort of warning label. You know how some of those drug commercials have those disclaimers that say ridiculous things like: "if you experience suicidal thoughts, if your head pops off, if your eyeballs turn bright purple, if you experience an erection that lasts for 3 weeks, discontinue use of this medication and seek immediate medical attention."? Well - this book should come with a disclaimer that reads: "This diet will turn you into a raving lunatic, bitch within 24 hours. Your loved ones may want to move out as you will become irrationally angry at them at times and want to throw things at their heads. Erratic mood swings and crying for no reason may occur. Headaches, dizziness and general feelings of unease and homocidal rage are normal and should subside in a few days. If you find yourself face-first in a gallon of chocolate ice cream, seek immediate medical attention"
So - eating 'clean" isn't for me. Back to Weight Watchers. My good friend Xena - the warrior princess - just lost about 60 or 70 pounds and looks AMAZING and sexy and AMAZING with Weight Watchers. She's encouraging me to try it - so I will. Something has got to work - between P90X-ing and being really careful with what I eat...hopefully I will get back down to a normal, healthy size. If not - there is always reality TV. I mean it - there is "Dance Your Ass Off" - where "big" girls dance with pro dancers. It's a mix of The Biggest Loser and Dancing with the Stars...minus the stars. The only problem with this one is that I'm not fat enough. Fifi found this show last year and has been encouraging me to "bulk up" for the show. Fifi is obsessed with being on a reality dance show and thinks that this is her best shot. She will be the supportive best friend of the fat girl. Sick? Yes - certainly. But, it might be a better option than going to Mexico and intentionally getting a parasite - which has crossed my mind. A lot lately. And I do love my Fifi and owe her alot. But I'd seriously need to gain a good 50 pounds...that's alot of love.
Now, there is always The Biggest Loser - but again - not nearly fat enough for that. And there is the Jillian issue. Hate that biotch. I'd have to be on Bob's team and I'd probably end up falling in love with him - which would be a problem as I'm married to PC...oh and as Bob is gay. But - we all know that I do have a thing for the gays...HOWEVER - I would probably end up having a HUGE HUGE girl fight with Jillian and I would SO smack her skinny ass down JOISEY style. So I'd get pretty famous for that.But I'd also get kicked off the ranch before getting skinny either for beating the crap out of Jillian or sexually harassing and frightening Bob.
My best option might just be Dr. 90210. I'd go for that narssicistic Cuban doctor. The one who does Karate and wears tight scrubs and always gives people big boobs - Dr. Ray? First of all - he's a hot, Latin guy. Who doesn't love that? Second of all - I need so much work that I would probably be a good 2 hour Dr. 90210 movie! I can hear the announcer: "Never before has Dr. 90210 been faced with such a challenge - a whole body makeover...in a day." It would be awesome. He could just suck all of my fat out - bind me up in a girdle, send me to a recovery spa, pump me full of oxycotin, and then - give me a makeover and a big reveal. This is a really good idea! The drama would be incredible. First of all - I am SUCH a baby and a wimp - I'd be AWFUL with the pain. I'd cry and throw up and yell at everybody. And then they could cut back and forth between me being really mean and mad and pathetic and poor PC taking care of the kids. Shouldering the whole burden for his awful, selfish wife. And he's be so upset with me for doing it in the first place - and he'd probably punch Dr. Ray if he gave me super big boobies- it would be SO Jerry Springer.
Hmmm...but then there is that whole "major surgery" thing. And the possibility of dying and whatnot. And I REALLY don't want to be "that mom who died while getting plastic surgery". Can you imagine my kids having to tell that to all of their boyfriends/girlfriends? How humiliating.
"Your mom is dead? OMG! How Sad! Cancer?"
"Nope."
"Car Accident?"
"Nope"
"Suicide?"
"Nope - Brazillian Butt Lift"
"Oh"....uncomfortable silence...........
Yeah - can't do that to them. Crap - I guess I'll have to keep doing P90X...........
The "Eat Clean Diet" book should come with some sort of warning label. You know how some of those drug commercials have those disclaimers that say ridiculous things like: "if you experience suicidal thoughts, if your head pops off, if your eyeballs turn bright purple, if you experience an erection that lasts for 3 weeks, discontinue use of this medication and seek immediate medical attention."? Well - this book should come with a disclaimer that reads: "This diet will turn you into a raving lunatic, bitch within 24 hours. Your loved ones may want to move out as you will become irrationally angry at them at times and want to throw things at their heads. Erratic mood swings and crying for no reason may occur. Headaches, dizziness and general feelings of unease and homocidal rage are normal and should subside in a few days. If you find yourself face-first in a gallon of chocolate ice cream, seek immediate medical attention"
So - eating 'clean" isn't for me. Back to Weight Watchers. My good friend Xena - the warrior princess - just lost about 60 or 70 pounds and looks AMAZING and sexy and AMAZING with Weight Watchers. She's encouraging me to try it - so I will. Something has got to work - between P90X-ing and being really careful with what I eat...hopefully I will get back down to a normal, healthy size. If not - there is always reality TV. I mean it - there is "Dance Your Ass Off" - where "big" girls dance with pro dancers. It's a mix of The Biggest Loser and Dancing with the Stars...minus the stars. The only problem with this one is that I'm not fat enough. Fifi found this show last year and has been encouraging me to "bulk up" for the show. Fifi is obsessed with being on a reality dance show and thinks that this is her best shot. She will be the supportive best friend of the fat girl. Sick? Yes - certainly. But, it might be a better option than going to Mexico and intentionally getting a parasite - which has crossed my mind. A lot lately. And I do love my Fifi and owe her alot. But I'd seriously need to gain a good 50 pounds...that's alot of love.
Now, there is always The Biggest Loser - but again - not nearly fat enough for that. And there is the Jillian issue. Hate that biotch. I'd have to be on Bob's team and I'd probably end up falling in love with him - which would be a problem as I'm married to PC...oh and as Bob is gay. But - we all know that I do have a thing for the gays...HOWEVER - I would probably end up having a HUGE HUGE girl fight with Jillian and I would SO smack her skinny ass down JOISEY style. So I'd get pretty famous for that.But I'd also get kicked off the ranch before getting skinny either for beating the crap out of Jillian or sexually harassing and frightening Bob.
My best option might just be Dr. 90210. I'd go for that narssicistic Cuban doctor. The one who does Karate and wears tight scrubs and always gives people big boobs - Dr. Ray? First of all - he's a hot, Latin guy. Who doesn't love that? Second of all - I need so much work that I would probably be a good 2 hour Dr. 90210 movie! I can hear the announcer: "Never before has Dr. 90210 been faced with such a challenge - a whole body makeover...in a day." It would be awesome. He could just suck all of my fat out - bind me up in a girdle, send me to a recovery spa, pump me full of oxycotin, and then - give me a makeover and a big reveal. This is a really good idea! The drama would be incredible. First of all - I am SUCH a baby and a wimp - I'd be AWFUL with the pain. I'd cry and throw up and yell at everybody. And then they could cut back and forth between me being really mean and mad and pathetic and poor PC taking care of the kids. Shouldering the whole burden for his awful, selfish wife. And he's be so upset with me for doing it in the first place - and he'd probably punch Dr. Ray if he gave me super big boobies- it would be SO Jerry Springer.
Hmmm...but then there is that whole "major surgery" thing. And the possibility of dying and whatnot. And I REALLY don't want to be "that mom who died while getting plastic surgery". Can you imagine my kids having to tell that to all of their boyfriends/girlfriends? How humiliating.
"Your mom is dead? OMG! How Sad! Cancer?"
"Nope."
"Car Accident?"
"Nope"
"Suicide?"
"Nope - Brazillian Butt Lift"
"Oh"....uncomfortable silence...........
Yeah - can't do that to them. Crap - I guess I'll have to keep doing P90X...........
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