So it appears I took a hiatus (it took me a couple of times to spell that correctly, so for good measure I put it incorrectly in the post title, keeps me grounded…just like J.Lo. is still just Jenny from the Block). I didn’t mean to take a break, life just got in the way of writing. There were a couple of adventures during that time, notably taking the kids to Nebraska to visit my family. We had a great time, it was classically windy and unbearably hot, which was a nice break from Seattle’s same old 65 and overcast. I even got sunburned! And it was just me and the 2 kids, the Trophy Husband had to do some “work” thing that he claims to do everyday. I’m not sure what that’s about, but I’m thinking it has something to do with not doing the kids’ morning routine, school drop offs, grocery shopping, witching hour and then preparing dinner. But get this, he gets paid to not do all those things! Pretty sweet deal.

I’m excited to share some news with you. I am ratifying an amendment to the Top 5.

Like I mentioned with regards to Justin Timberlake, my Top 5 tends to be reconfirmed through my dreams. George Clooney was introduced by way of dream. And I’m noticing a trend as my amendment is being prompted by yet another dream.

Last night, I went prom dress shopping with my date, who happened to be Adam Levine. In a very Pretty Woman way, I got to try on any dress or shoes I wanted. I even miraculously looked hot in everything I tried on (this is where someone appropriately inserts, “in your dreams”). And Adam was so cute and fun. We didn’t even make out, but I could tell he was really into me and excited about the whole going to prom with me scenario. So…he’s in!

One evening, I had a school meeting to go to. I changed out of my sweatpants, put on a little makeup and some earrings. I came downstairs and my daughter started talking to me as I entered the room. When she turned to look at me to finish her sentence, she stopped dead in her tracks and said, “Are we getting a babysitter or something?”

I really need to wear makeup more often.

1) I grimace when I clean something or take my kids to go potty in a public restroom.

1.5) I call going to the bathroom, going potty whether I’m with my kids or not.

2) Food gets stuck in my teeth more and I use the corner of a sugar packet to try and get it out; which results in wet paper now being stuck in my tooth with the food.

3) I say “Oy” under my breath when I exert any sort of energy (including, but not limited to, walking up the stairs, getting into my car and climbing into bed).

4) I constantly pick up my daughter’s pants/skirts so her tushy crack isn’t showing. (And then I say, “Oy”)

4.5) Whenever my son spills his milk, which is almost every morning, I say, “No use crying over it.” and then I proceed to laugh. Every. Single. Time.

5) Every morning before leaving the house, I pack a little bag with 2 of every kind of snack…but 50% of the time I forget to bring the bag with me (and similar to the effectiveness of Sex Panther, that 50% of the time my kids want a snack…every time).

6) I spell things out in conversations with adults so my kids don’t understand, and I’ve gotten so good that the adults usually have no idea what the word is.

6.5) Once, while standing with my parents and sisters, I said to my sisters in front of everyone, “Should we give Mom and Dad their anniversary g-i-f-t?” To which my mom replied, “We can spell.”

7) I go to return clothes and I forget to bring the clothes (this applies to all types of returns).

8) I talk to myself out loud in both private and public, and even make myself laugh.

9) When I had left my wallet at home and I promised my kids Wendy’s, I went to the bank and convinced the teller to withdraw $20 from my account with no I.D. (Begs the question, why didn’t I just go home to get my wallet? The bank was closer and I’m that lazy.)

10) I call everyone in my house by someone’s name who lives in the house, just not their own (dog included and actually, used the most).

My awesome handyman (“M”), when “caught” by my husband working on a Sunday a few months ago:

Husband: Oh, I didn’t realize you would be here today working, it’s Sunday.
M: Yeah, man. I work every day…every day except Cinco de Mayo.

Clutch.

Hope you had a great Cinco de Mayo (and coincidentally on a Sunday), M!

Yes, that is my light fixture protruding out of the wall, revealing sticky tape as the source for mounting.

Really?! Sticky tape? You used sticky tape to mount a light fixture? A light fixture that is placed directly above someone’s head? Someone who is likely to be under that fixture 2x a day, assuming that the least they do is brush their teeth in the morning and night? Sticky tape? Really?! Sticky tape you claim to be “mounting tape,” for the purpose of which is to mount things like poster board? Sticky tape to mount a fixture made of glass and mirror? Glass that just sits like a waffling bowl in the fixture not secured to anything? A fixture that has 2 really hot halogen bulbs that do no less than blind you the minute the unsecured frosted glass tips out of the falling fixture? Really?! Sticky tape to mount a fixture that if by chance does fall, will be hanging by a thread of sorts? A thread laced with electrical current that is now dangling over the head of a person using water for every day sanitary purposes?  Really?! Sticky tape? Sticky tape?! For a light fixture?!

My faith in humanity has been crushed right before my blinded-by-halogen-bulbs eyes.

PS-the fixture on the left fell 3 weeks later, revealing…sticky tape. Points for consistency.

Myself being my mini me, my daughter. It’s a weird feeling, knowing that you created a little person, a spawn of yourself. People tell me all the time that my daughter looks exactly like me. I don’t see it because I don’t think it’s possible to know your face the way other people do. You can’t be objective about your own characteristics or even of those of your child, whose face you know by heart. You’re too close to the situation (actually, you aren’t even too close to the situation, the situation being your face, you ARE the situation). But nonetheless, it’s a weird feeling to know that people see you walking with your spawn and they see the resemblance, knowing that person is “yours”. And not just in looks. When my daughter makes certain facial expressions, statements, mannerisms or does certain actions, people always say, “She is SO your daughter.”

Slowly, I’m starting to get worried about raising this little mini me. I’ve heard all the stories of what I was like as a toddler and kid. Tantrums. Moody (especially when hungry…Hangry – that’s for you A.R.). Sensitive. Whatever, you’d be sensitive too if you had terrible eczema on your legs and your sister used to call your legs “eggy leggies”. And I remember what I was like as a teenager (you get no specifics on that one in case one day I want to work for the government and I need my rep in tact). And I was even one of the “good” kids. Like so many adults, I have a respect for my parents that wasn’t possible to have as a kid. I know a little about what is in store for me now. So it’s all well and good that my daughter looks like me and acts like me. But…

I just might be turning into an adult, slowly but surely. This is evidenced by the fact that I can no longer bring myself to watch Vampire Diaries (my sister is devastated), despite the fact that Ian Somerhalder is in my Top 5 (and so is Nina Dobrev…she’s just in a different Top 5). I seriously thought the show was fabulous the first couple of seasons and I looked forward to it. But I can’t do it anymore. Something inside of me has changed. It just may be a bit of maturity creeping in. I was wondering when it would happen. At 35, it was bound to happen. For me, it presented itself with the disappearance of CW shows on my TiVo. I know for others it presents itself in other forms. If I ever switch from cafe mochas to lattes or even straight espresso, I think we can officially call me a mature adult. But until then, I’m still just showing signs.

Back to Ian (because why not?!). He actually made an appearance in the Top 5 back when he appeared in Life as a House. Simultaneously, Hayden Christensen made his appearance. His ranking maintained for awhile because of the resurgence of Star Wars. And like most girls born in the 70’s, I grew up loving Star Wars. But it was Hayden’s presence in Life as a House coupled with the fact that the soundtrack included a Guster song (as well as the dog’s name being Guster) that did me in. Hayden has since been replaced by Kyle Chandler, or Coach Taylor as he is lovingly known to us FNL fans. Now, Kyle actually caught my eye when he played the bomb squad guy in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy (another show I just abandoned mid-season this year). Spoiler Alert: He blew up. It was super emotional.

So the current standings are:
1. Christian Bale – I mean, I really could just stop after that. Yes, he’s got anger management issues, but I’m not going for personality here, this is purely physical – which should help put my husband at ease.
2. Ian Somerhalder – I know he’s a little “pretty”.
3. Justin Timberlake – Of course. The best part about him being in the Top 5 is I have dreams about him all the time. In a sense, I’ve already hooked up with him, so we could call it a day.
4. Kyle Chandler – Coach.
5. Brad Pitt/George Clooney – Now, here’s where it gets tricky. Brad was the original Top 5, he started the Top 5 and he was #1-#5. This was circa 1991, classic Thelma and Louise. So I feel he deserves an honorary spot. That being said, I need the sophistication of a salt ‘n pepper gentleman for diversity; and since Sean Connery was just pushing it, I decided George Clooney should be granted the spot. This was motivated by another dream I had where he was obsessed with me. So essentially, he is in the Top 5 and Brad just holds an honorary place.

So as you can see, I’m showing signs of maturity as we speak.

 

If you’ve been reading my posts, you know that I’m into my kids learning different dialects, the way other parents are into their kids learning to play an instrument or sport. (Click here for background).

The other day, in the car, my daughter said, “My two friends fighted over the book at school.”
I replied with, “We say ‘fought’ in that sentence.”
Her reply, “Oh, so like ‘fart’ without the ‘R’, they foughted.”

…and we have Boston.

My brother-in-law (“B”) asked for a little more clarification as to what a Blue Ribbon Wife is. He got the “first place” concept but needed me to use it in a sentence (or, as I am doing, in a post). A Blue Ribbon Wife is defined by many characteristics which will come up at some point throughout the blog both physical and non-physical; but mostly defined by her actions. See below:

My husband and son share a birthday; but since my son is still young and gets a party with a cake, I let my husband pick the cake we celebrate with at home. It’s the same every year: grocery store-bought chocolate cake with white frosting. So as a BRW (putting in the effort and thought), I decided I was going to make the cake this year, the night before. I wish to G-d (oh, I’m Jewish, btw) I had taken a picture of what ensued that night I made the cake. But not only does this show you what it looked like (the second or third cake is the best representation), but this commercial came on literally 10 minutes after my debacle: Cool Whip Frosting Commercial

So that didn’t work out. The next morning, which was the birthdays, I ran to the grocery store. Now, I know that the chocolate cake/white frosting combo is just particular enough that most stores don’t carry more than one (if even that) ready to purchase.