Time Out!

I'm taking a vacation.

Nope, not going anywhere fun. Not going anywhere at all.

But I'm beyond busy and need to unplug for a while. I think it's rather ridiculous that I had to come online and write that I intend to stay offline.

Clearly I have issues.


How long do you think I'll last?

Don't forget about lil ole me. PLEASE!

I...

In the past 18ish hours:

I did pick up the kids from daycare.
(late - whatever)
I did hear all about how they did not nap.
I did not like the whining on the 2 mile trip home from daycare.
I did turn up the music to “I CAN’T FUCKING HEAR YOU” loud.
I did not care when the boys wanted to watch The Goofy Movie while they ate their pizza.
I did make them sit on the couch while I vacuumed the crumbs.
I did not pause or even rewind the movie after making noise with the vacuum.
I did wave at my husband on my way out the door the second he got home.
I did not get caught speeding on the way to the liquor store.
I did place my Guinness in the carseat [I’m a safety girl!*].

I did not drink the Guinness until after I ran a 5k at the gym.
I did not fall off the treadmill!
I did almost puke from the heavy panting said treadmill caused.
I did go straight to my ‘hood momma’s house to share some giggles.
I did NOT like it when I realized it was 12.30 AYE EM.
I did have to watch American Idol to “wind down.”
I did not appreciate the 6am wake up call from the boy’s room.
I did suck down my first cup of coffee.
I did also burn my mouth on said coffee.
I did not like the burning ball of gas in the sky that decided to show up on the morning that I needed clouds.
I did house a sausage mcmuffin on the way to work.
I did swear when I got to work and realized I was 10 minutes late for a meeting.
I did not remember to put deodorant on.
I did remember to put underwear on.


Happy Friday Eve, mothafuckas!

*name that movie?

Momma's Momma. Again.

I finally called my Momma back. I knew she needed to chat and, dammit, I should have done it sooner.


She’s still dealing with incredible bouts of pain from her rheumatoid arthritis. She doesn’t want to take her pain pills (recovering alcoholic – afraid of addictive behavior). She’s depressed. She’s low on funds.

She’s hurting and I can’t be there and that hurts me.

Sure I can send money. And I can make her laugh til she pees (I mean, who do you think I learned it from?) But I can’t be there to hug her. Or rub her knee or her wrist. Or just hold her if all she wants to do is sleep.

I hate being in the position to NEED to comfort my own Momma, but hate worse that I can’t physically be there.

So I’ll be sending her love and laughter across the miles. And sending one up to the big Guy in the Sky. If you’d be so kind, and believe in some sort of God, I’d appreciate a helpful thought for my Momma. We call her Ju Ju.

MoochAhhsssGrahhssyAhhss.

I'm lame

Nurse Jackie is back in session this evening. 10pm. Showtime.


Thus, I will be watching t.v. and ignoring the 87 loads of laundry that still haunt me; the clean dishes in the dishwasher; the hairballs in the corners that the sun LOVES to highlight; the bin full of winter hats and scarves and boots that needs to go to the attic; the 3 messages from my mother*; the ‘piles’ on my kitchen hutch and my running sneakers.

This all assumes I stay up until at least 10.

Dream big, MommaKiss, dream big.


*this is a tough one, my momma needs a call. I’ll do it this week, I promise!

When you care enough to send the very best

The other day I got a card from a friend.

In the MAIL.

Not just a "hi" e-mail or an e-card (which I also love) but a real piece of paper that she had to write on and stamp and everything.  And there is just something about getting fun stuff in your mailbox instead of bills and magazines.

So here's the card:

And the inside:

I almost totally cut off the writing, but the personal note [even though you can't read it] made me smile. Big.

Now - here's my request. 

Someone in your life need a laugh? A sibling? Friend? Your mom? Think they could use a long distance 'cheers' or 'miss you' or 'just thinking of you' note?

Send them a card. A real one. It will make their day AND you'll feel really good about it.

Do it!

Or your punishment will be 20 lashes with a wet noodle.

Um, virtually, of course.

Show me your...

NO, not boobs!

Shoes! Show me your shoes!

[sorry boys - unless you're a Metro or like that cross dresser in Silence of the Lambs, this may not be for you...perchance you'd be happier over at ESPN? or FHM?]

Moving on!

I'm doing this virtual party. I'm not usually a big 'joiner' like that - but I love me some shoes.

Beth over here started it - such a fun idea :)






Let's begin. Oh, and for the record, I hate wearing socks. Or stockings. Or anything on my feet actually. So summer shoes or peep toes or flip flops....oooooh, the flip flops!

Here's my fave pair of flops - I can wear these to work. And clearly I need a new pair because they are looking a lil beat up. They're that gunmetal grey and I usually wear them with ankle length black pants.

I could probably wear these to work, too. Got them last summer from Ann Taylor Loft.  That little bee totally sold me!

My purple peeps. Oooooh, these have been with me for a couple of years now and I looooooove them. They're comfortable. Deep dark purple. When I'm rockin the Lincoln Park After Dark pedicure, it's the perfect match.

You've seen these flats before - the shiny zebra flats. Extra comfortable and super stylish. I'm basically a Little Person based on my height and don't wear flats that often, but this past winter I needed a change and would wear my big bulky boots to commute and then wear these (and their cousin the suede-y Leopard print flats) all day at work.

The wedges. Not the butt-floss-undies-stuck wedges. Shooooooes. I looooove wedge shoes! First, the 2 pair I wear the most. And then, most likely the ones I lust after.

OOoooOOOh, these just make me happy. And? They're actually comfortable. I no lie!

These are on sale right now at famousfootwear

I have a few pair of boots [like high black boots and basic every day black boots] but since it's kind of springy out, I've already hid them deep in the closet for the season. 

Now some dream shoes...

Madden Girl....

And they come in F Me RED!

I could even wear these w/ jeans...by touch of Nina

Kelly & Katie jazzy leather strap

I kind of want these just so I can say "My Choo!" like Mary Fiore in The Wedding Planner...

And I've been drooling over these for a while...my galoshes are beat up and boring...

From dll rainwear

And I seriously may just splurge on these for the boys. Shipping is only $4.98!

Wow that was fun.

And if you'll excuse me, I have to go shopping now!

Doggie Style

No Pervs. I'm not discussing sexual things. I have a dog. Have I mentioned?

He's a yellow lab and pretty much "matches" the family. You know, the whole 'pets resemble their owners' type thing? Yah. Yellow Lab, blonde mom and dad with blond-ish* kids.

Anyway. This dog was our first baby. Of course he was. We got him like the second we moved to the 'burbs and he was Our Life. Pictures to family and friends. The "Kiss Mascot" did this today, and he shit 4 times yesterday and he's sooooo cute and soft and cuddly. Sigh. We were THOSE people.

But I grew up a dog person and flat out said to Mr. Kiss "We're getting a dog."

For the sole reason to "parent prep." I figured - if we could 'raise' a dog (a.k.a. not kill him) we were allowed to try to have children. 

Turns out he survived. And didn't eat our first baby, so we had another one.

I'm sad to say, though, that the poor fella doesn't get nearly as much attention as he used to.  He's always the last to eat and is constantly being jumped on and having his tail pulled by the boys. He doesn't go to the park every day like that first year (ohhh, that first year, Kiss Mascot, that first year we were all so fit!).

He does, however, still claim his space. He sleeps on our bed. Yes. He sleeps on our bed.  Oddly, not at night anymore, but I'm totally fine with that. During the day, it's his haven. He's there All. Day. Long. 

In the interest to keep my bed somewhat 'dog hair' free, we tried to get him to sleep elsewhere. Dog Beds from Land's End. Crate lovies. Nothing worked. So it's up on the bed he remains. And my bed? It's cooooooomfy. I don't blame him. Also? The covers are oh so snuggly.  I sleep with a down comforter every single night. Winter, summer, it's on the bed. And, if you aren't aware, down comforters are not easy to clean. So I always have a duvet on it, which is also not easy to clean. Getting those fuckers on and off of a comforter is a cardio exercise.  That's a whole 'nother post!

Do I have a damn point? I think I do. The comforter or duvet always have another sheet on top of them. For the Dog. He's totally got me whipped, doesn't he? Thing is - if I can wash that lil sheet like twice a week, our bed smells more like Tide and Lavender and less like a kennel. 

But? Poochy pooch? Your days of snuggling on this bed are limited. Because you're doing just that: SNUGGLING!

Let's start with this.  I'm all melty looking at it. Makes me want to go spoon him and let those soft ears warm my cheeks.

But THIS?
I walked in one night after work to change into my fat pants and saw this. Dog Sheet askew, pillows all messed up (back right corner there)...

Let's take a closer look, shall we?

He had totally moved the sheets, moved the BLANKETS and settled himself right in.

And?
AND?

The pillow was warm. He had been sleeping in our bed, under the covers, with his head on the pillow. 

So listen up, Kiss Mascot: This was your first time and it wasn't on my side (heh) so you're getting a get out of jail free card. This time. If it happens again (on my side of course), I'm totally kicking you out of my room.  I have baby gates, don't think I won't use them.


*my little kiss? He has red hair. I have no idea. Either recessive genes or I fucked that leprechaun the same day I conceived him with Mr. Kiss. 

That 5K was NOTHIN!

I have to edit because I totally meant to add this comment from the 5K Prep entry last week. I love them all of course, but this one from Mad's Mom was quite impressive.  I should have it framed:

Well since you went all Irish on me: May the road rise up to meet you, but only your feet and not your face. May the wind be always at your back, pushing your slow ass across the finish line. May sun shine warm upon your face and on your race day. May rain fall freaking hard on your competitors and May God hand you gold at the finish line. [Wind was everywhere - at my back and front and sides - but I did get gold at the end! Sweet!]


2 most important things to keep in mind: Chaffing and Support. [Barely there underwear - no chaffing! Support easy these days]

Okay, 3: THERE IS BEER AT THE END OF THIS RACE! [and it was Gooooooood!]

*****************************

I did it. The 5k yesterday was no problem. I say that as I hurt today. Like sore all over hurt. But meh - it's only 3.2 miles. Also? It was like 40 degrees and raining. Sideways. I was soaking wet before we even started running.

But I did it. Even after my running partner (the bitch who signed me up in the first place) asked if I wanted to just go to the bar instead of run in the rain.

Are you kidding me? You make me fret this for 2 months and then want to back out on the DAY of the road race?

Nuh Uh. I'm doing it, and so are you. So we did. And I only had to walk once. 

I'm even considering doing one in April, crossing fingers that the weather will be decent and my kids can come and watch.  It's the day before the Boston Marathon - and no, I will Never EVER run a full marathon. I do not get the 'runners high' that people speak of. Running outside sucks. But I'd like to do another 5k to try to better my time.

Which I think was just under 40 minutes. Or just over. Either way - I finished.

So yay me.

Some pictures...
Driving there. Such a pretty day in New England.  Also - the reason for my outfit choice, which was NOT fun at all. Long pants. Rain gear. Hat. Basically miserable.

Proof that I registered [a.k.a. ticket into the bar]

Start!

A few things to note upon my crossing the finish line...I wanted to lay down and kiss the ground, but they wouldn't let me because there were people behind me. See that?? Behind me! Sweet! Also. I'm soaked to the core. Shoes. Socks. Underwear. Not a fun situation people. 

The medal - a bottle opener. Of course.

And me in the bar afterward.  Sorry - have to protect the innocent and put the shades on. Note my shamrock stickers. I ran w/ them on. And they stayed on! And the light up beads. Yep, those made it the whole way w/ me, too.  I'm biting the medal/bottle opener thingy. And this was the best Guinness I've ever had.

Oh - and - if you'll notice that is a dry hat - and basically entirely new outfit. My friend and I changed before going to the bar. In the parking garage. Let me just say that if the place has cameras, they got a shot of me buck naked standing on soaking wet clothes while we tried to slither into the dry ones. I'm classy people.

Got to leave w/ this picture. My kids made these and when I got home they screamed "So pwoud of you Momma!"

Melt my big fat heart. 

For Aunt Becky

So have you ever wanted to write a book? I'm not brave enough, but for those who do it - I'm sure it's a long and crazy process.

I know someone who's writing a book right now and she needs your help. Aunt Becky at Mommy Wants Vodka has an agent or some shit and now just needs to show that person that people would actually read what she writes.

So - if you would be so kind - simply GO HERE [it's the 'book' page on her site, i'm not spamming anyone] and enter your e-mail address.  It's that EASY. And you're building your Karma Bank so pay it forward, yo!

Please :p .

[Aunt Becky - maybe if you promise to show your boobs or kiss the girls, it'll help. just sayin']

5k preparation

I'm over Wednesday's crying jag. I think. Thanks for your kind words (and for lying to me).

Now. Let's move on. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but I'm participating in this race on Sunday. I'd say "running" in it, but let's be honest...running is far from the truth.

I'll back up a smidge - in January I spent a night away at my girlfriend's house. We went to dinner, got drunk and she signed me up for a 5K. At the time, I was so excited! Somehow we managed to enter my name (correctly spelled even) and credit card to register me and Whala! In the morning, I saw the confirmation e-mail. And promptly said "WHAT THE FUCK?!" 

Yah.

Some people do stupid things when they drink like sing karaoke, kiss strangers or flash their boobies [all of which I will deny to the death. unless you have pictures]. But not this time. I committed myself to this crazy 'race.' 

This was in January. The next week I decided I better start training. A.K.A. run/jog for the first time in my life. I mean. I may have run once in high school. You know, for that physical fitness test? I was the one in the back walking w/ the wheelchair kids.

I live in New England. It's cold and snowy outside in January. So I started on the treadmill. The first day I upped the walk pace and then just kept jogging. MUCH to my surprise, for the past 6 weeks I've done at least 4 full 5K's (on the treadmill) and have jogged a few 2 milers here and there in between. I'm not very fast - but I'm getting it done.

Did I mention I also fell OFF the treadmill about a week ago? At the gym. That was epic. You know you wish you were there.

Now the time has come. The race is on Sunday. I do NOT intend to be 'racing' at all. But I hope I can finish it. Well. I know I can finish it, but I'm going to try to actually run/jog the whole time.

My dliemma? The Outfit!

The race is this big Irish Deal - there's a 'sister' race in Dublin the same day. There will be beer at the end (pretty much what will be my  motivation to finish. Only fair, 'tis what got me into this mess in the first place).

Here's my shirt options:
BLUE [on a target cart. duh]

Black:

White:

My "friend" who signed me up for this thing is wearing the Black one. I can match her. I don't mind.

Also? I thought about one of those head bands. With the bopper things on top? But realized they would just fall off because I'm not that graceful of a runner. And someone suggested face paint. Um. They have never seen me run, apparently, as I sweat like a fat man running through Africa.

So - we have options as follows:

The sweat bands:

I had a link to the wrist bands, too - with thumb holes! But the picture won't save.
And leg warmers. yah???

And I'll probably have a flashing shamrock button or something else completely over the top to make myself fit in. If you're going to cross the finish line wheezing and red faced, you may as well look good doing it, right?

Go big or go home, my friends.

Tune in Monday to see if I survived. If I did, I may have pictures. If not, I have a will set up. My friend Val, you've been appointed the executor ;)


Slainte!!

Baby Steps

***morning after note. that was painful to read. i would fail any 9th grade english class. but i'm not changing it. deal, right? Also? The tile in that bathroom? Isn't it HIDEOUS? ugh.

 
Trying something new. Or, old, really, I used to do this a lot. Posting under the influence. I'll probably spelll check because ,well, the little red dashed line shows up when something is misspelled, but you know, other than that - I'm just going to write.

My Big Kiss will be 5 in June. FIVE. That in itself blows my mind. I mean, he's such a big kid, he strips himself nekked to take a shit, but delicately hangs his lil undies on the cabinet hook whilst doing so.

Any mother's dream.  That said?

I'm sad.

He's going to kindergarten in the fall. In 6 months. Well, in 5 months and 27 days. But who's counting.  And we had orientation tonight.  Just parents. Basic info. No kids. All of us sitting in the bad fluorescent lighted gym listening to the info and asking questions.

And me?

Crying.

Fine. I was bawling


Don't judge me, assholes. I'm having a moment.

Anyway, we're sitting in this gym and mwuat mwua mwua mwuat mwuat (like the Charlie Brown teacher) information bla bla bla and then they play a slide show. Of kids smiling and playing and riding a bus and NOT WITH THEIR PARENTS!

Here's the thing. I'm not sure if I've shared this before. I never EVER thought I would be a mother. I was not one of those people who lived their life to "birth babies." I didn't ever feel like I needed a child to "complete me."

That said? Yah, I went to college, got a job, meet a man who 'worked,' got married...babies are the next logical step.

So whatever, I did the whole knocked up thing (swear to god, be thankful I didn't blog back then. you'd be subjected to many many many TMI entries and, well, ew), had my kid.

I was 31 when I had my first child. Working at a job I loved. Married to a man who loved me. And came home to a dog who sniffed my crotch every time I walked through the door. And came home to a baby. A baby. A screaming pink ball of gas.

I figured "I can do this. I'm smart. I'm capable. I can raise a human AND I make milk. What the fuck is your super power?"

Well that kid? In short order he changed my life. Any mom will tell you this. Whether they birth their baby or are unconventionally made a mom.  A kid. They love you unconditionally and without fault. A kid. Who can wrap his fat little hands around your heart and squeeze once in a while just to make sure you're paying attention. A kid. Who makes you laugh so hard you pee your pants and scream so much you think you're insane.

A kid.

A kid.

Well I now have 2 kids. And the first born is going to be in kindergarten and I will not be the person who is solely responsible for him at all times. He'll be on a bus. From kindy to daycare. At a time I'm assuming is somewhat consistent each day, but who knows? I won't be there to see him get on that bus.

He'll be making new friends. Going from a daycare of about 40 to a whole school of 180. Recess.  Lunch.  Gym.  All of this. My kid will do it. Without me.


And that, folks, is what made me cry today. I don't want to let go. That little fucker came into my world and wrapped himself so tightly around my heart and soul I can't believe I was ever EVER questioning being a mother.

AND?

It's only March. I have 5 months and 27 days to get my shit together so that I don't cry on his first day.  Just lie to me and tell me it'll be ok and my kid will be ok.

Please.

Insomnia Giggles

I've had some trouble sleeping. New meds, anxiety, who the hell knows.

I try to make myself sleep w/out medication, but if I toss and turn for more than 10 minutes the 'doer' in me has to just get out of bed.

And?

Do you think I'd fold laundry? Wash the kitchen floor? Hell no. 

I watch t.v. GAWD, I love DVR.

Last night's line up? Catching back episodes of ABC's Modern Family.

I'm just going to say this. If you're not watching it, you are missing out.

Husband / wife humor. Kid humor. Gay humor. Family relationship humor. Better than reality t.v. to me and if you know me at all - that means it's goooooood.

I think the best part is that there's no music or like 'audience laughter' and it's like you're just sitting at the table or in the living room with the families. Last night I watched the Valentine's Day episode, Claire and Phil try to 'up' the romance and "meet" at a hotel. She gets herself naked under a trench coat, and, well, also gets herself into a compromising position. 

I woke up the dog w/ my giggling.

Find it and watch it. 

Here's the back episodes:
http://abc.go.com/shows/modern-family

I must vent.

I love my husband. Pretty much the reason I'm still married, right? Some say “what’s love got to do with it,” but what the hell, it works for me.

That said.

I have to vent. Nag. Whatever. If I don’t do it here, I’ll go bananas on him and, well, that’s not good for anyone.

My list of complaints:

The DVR. Or "your obsession with the list of shows recorded." We have 3 DVR boxes in the house. Living room, Manland and The Bedroom. The Living room is full of my trash t.v. and kid's shows. Manland is Mr. Kiss' (a.k.a. sports & porn). The Bedroom, well, it's a mix. Movies, The Family Guy (barf) and 20/20, 48 hours, Dateline...haphazard. Well, here’s the thing, Husband-o-mine, if it's on The List, then someone recorded it. Obviously. So why do you keep asking me if I still want it or can you delete it? Did I record it? Why haven't I watched last week's Intervention yet? There's plenty of space and just fucking move on.

Oblivion. Are men born with this “oblivion” chromosome? Can someone 'splain this to me? So at home, we have our lists. For the most part, he mows the lawn, cleans the pool and takes out the trash. I do the laundry [fucking hate laundry], the dishes and grocery shopping. But we vary from the lists once in a while. We both work, shit still needs to get done. I've mowed the lawn and he's gone to the grocery store. But the oblivion of "when" something needs to be done? i.e. cleaning the FUCKING TOILET WHEN IT'S CLEARLY GROWING THINGS? Or forgetting to vacuum when I'll be away, even though I've put the Dyson at the bottom of the steps. For 2 days. Or emptying the trash and not putting a bag back in and then I go and toss my coffee grounds in the trash and hear “splat” and realize much too late that I just made a big fucking mess because there’s no fucking bag.

My car. He got it for me. For ME. But JaysusChristo, if there's a matchbox or reusable bag or napkin on the front seat, what's the big deal. My car is clean. It's not smelling like an 8th grade boy's locker room. There are not spilled sippy cups of milk hanging around under seats. I don't leave "trash" in the car for more than a day. So when you get in and Huff and Sigh and Grab shit up, it pisses me off. Just deal with a napkin here & there, asshole.

Huffing and Sighing. Soooo passive aggressive and that, coupled with “you’ll be fine” make me want to stab you. With a blunt object.

“Forgetting” to change a diaper. No one in their right mind wants to change a diaper full of shit. But, in case you didn’t realize, we’re raising a little human here and yah, he’s going to shit on the pot one day [perfect example: our 4 year old. No more diapers. He takes man dumps on the pot. A lot actually.] So when you smell the shit just change the diaper. Don’t make him stew in it for hours and when I walk in say “Oh really? I didn’t realize he had shit running down his legs. Oh well, I’m going to the gym. Not It!” Yeah. Hahahahahaha. Calling “not it” on this one doesn’t count. Your kid now has diaper rash because you were lazy.

WHEW. I feel much better. And – now that I’ve worked out these issues on the internets, I won’t have to be a bitch at home.

Maybe.

I'd like to thank the Academy

Tonight the Oscars are on.  I have an acceptance speech of my own to make.

 

See that? That award? If any of you boys or girls were considering taking a shot at MommaKiss, well, you may have a little competition. It seems that http://www.janeyouignorantslut.com/ thinks I'm a Dream Girl Blogger.

Yah - you read that right. I'm surprised, too. The best part? He didn't give me any rules - like most 'awards' - which, you know, totally works for me. No, Dan, no ceremonies or animal sacrifices needed.

I do, however, think it's reasonable to share why I may (or may not) be a Dream Girl.

Here's some potential reasons for the accolade:

First the obvious;  I'm hot.  Or cute. Whatever.

I have been naked with 3 other women. Apparently Dan liked that concept.

I'm a sports fan. Like I actually like watching sports. Currently, college basketball is the craze in The Kiss Hizza.  Also - refer to this declaration that I'm a catch.*

I got my husband a humidor for Christmas. And a kick ass cigar.  Maybe men associate smoking cigars to blow jobs or something, but Dan found this admirable. The humidor purchasing part. I think.

I've been told that my voice is quite nice. You know how weird that is? Like how different your voice sounds in your head than it does to other people? However, and I quote, my voice has made someone "melt."  Hmm, maybe I should look into a different career.

I think eyes tell a lot about someone. And mine? I actually like my eyes. One of the few features I never bitch about. Not to mention, laugh lines are ALL the rage, right?

I'm a fan of afternoon delights and I'm just plain beautiful and badass.

Well, I'm sure I could go on and On and ON, but I'm afraid I must leave some of my dreamy qualities to the imagination. Of course if anyone would like to expand on this list, feel free. You know. I'm not at all against you going on and on about me.

Thanks Dan. Keep waiting for those pictures, maybe someday I'll send them.

*Snort. That was fun to re-read.

Thursday's Things.

Thankfully Sass is back on board w/ her weekly "Things I want." I've missed her.

Here's what I want today. To show you some of the randomness that is MommaKiss(it's what I'm good at!)

I took a "real age test." My actual age is 35.3 [ouch].  BUT??? My Real Age is 29.7.  SCORE. Seriously. I knew I didn't feel one day older than 30 ;)

My child. The little one. Who is 2.5. He's busted his skull at daycare - more than once. So yah, the first one it happened on Friday, they called me and said "He's OK, but I'm not gonna lie, it's not pretty." He crashed into a book shelf and has this huge egg on his forehead. They said it got so big so fast it was like in the cartoons when the birdies and stars fly around the guy's head. Great. Anyway - he was acting fine...we just iced it and gave him motrin. Well on Sunday? The shiner showed up. He now likes to say "call me Bwusah [bruiser]" and "You should see da othah guy!"  Great.  In the midst of all of this? They call me AGAIN yesterday. "He's ok, but he hit his head again...he was sliding on the floor and hit the door."  So now he's got another bump, right next to the old one.

I have a picture, but it's of my kid and - well - the internet is fucking creepy and I'm not sharing that.

What else? I love freaking out my kids. Like scaring them at random times. Or acting like a total nut. So the other night I put on one of their batman masks and just sat there like it was normal. No mention of it. Just kept it on for like an hour.

I've been admiring my tattoos lately. I have no idea why. Probably becaus this recent one I got when I was with my girls and it means so much about my kids and, well, I just miss my girls and love my kids...

My latest obsession is Gunmetal nail polish. It's not even some expensive OPI or Essie brand, it's Sally Hansen and was like 3 bucks. Also? Check that bling! 

Does anyone else take pictures of themselves at totally random times? My best friends live way too far away so I'm always taking stupid pictures of myself to send to them. Like pouting or makin' a smoochy face or drinking.  This was this morning...won't share why, but don't you just wonder what I'm up to?

And, ahem, given all of the above, well, I mean, Obviously! 

Pretty Things.

I'm putting up a re-post. This is from almost exactly a year ago.  And let me tell you? I'm feeling ODDLY similar today.  Except my shoes match. I think. 

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Ahhhhh, lookie here.

A picture of my diamond ring that fits again :)





It's been a hell of a week.

Oh - and this - yeah...I keep shoes under my desk. Like 4 pair, and yesterday I was taking them on & off while sitting, then I get up to go to the printer and notice this:




I'm pretty sure I wore 2 different shoes for a few hours. 

Grand.