I Have...

Prompt #1- 22 things you HAVE done

1. I have traveled to a few cities in France and Italy.

2. I have sang karaoke. Love shack, baby!

3. I have been hit by a car while walking. It was minor and actually quite funny.

4. I have been to NYC twice, but saw nothing more than the inside of the airports.

5. I have given birth twice without the help of any medication. Not by choice!

6. I have been on both ends of the adoption process.

7. I learned the hard way that 1 tequila, 2 tequila, 3 tequila, floor is true.

8. I am a big sports fan, but have yet to be inside one of the three new stadiums/arenas in this city.

9. I have experienced the loss of a parent.

10. I have taken my kids out of school not once, but twice for a parade.

11. I have run from the cops through corn fields and cows.

12. I have taught myself to crochet.

13. I got lost numerous times because I chose to listen to the bitch in my phone, ie GPS.

14. I let my kids cry it out.

15. I used a pacifier when I swore I would never bring one into this house.

16. I have experimented with drugs.

17. I have stood in the middle of nowhere to gaze at the stars. Completely unrelated to #16!

18. I have stayed up all night to see the sun rise.

19. I have watched scary shows like Ghost Adventures with my 6 year old.

20. I signed up to be a Girl Scout leader, something I swore I would never do.

21. I have walked with friends to raise money for cancer.

22. I have finished this list.

It's like high school

Elementary school functions. They're very similar to the few functions I attended in high school. Those I would have called bitches back then, and probably did, are now known as Motherbitches.

Last Friday was the annual Halloween dance at my kids' school. My kids had a fantabulous time and I'm sure the other students did as well. Me, on the other hand? I was tempted to bring home some of the leftover fruit punch and make a quick swing by the liquor store. All because of mother bitches.

Motherbitches #1:

Those who signed up to help before, during, or after the dance. Very few of them actually showed up. Showed up to help, that is. Some were seen during the dance chatting away to friends on the dance floor. But once those light came on at the end, they were gone.

Motherbitches #2:

The moms you would think have never seen their kid dressed in a costume. I understand wanting to take a picture of your toddler during the costume contest. Who doesn't love chubby cheeked little girls dressed up as a bumble bee. Or a boy, barely old enough to walk, donning a Spider Man costume, complete with fake muscles. Moms of older children, as in 2nd grade and up, they really needed to stop.

I was keeping an eye on a friend's sleeping son in his stroller. With how many moms that bumped into him while trying to move around for the perfect shot, I don't know how he didn't wake.

Motherbitches #3:

Those who are too good (or lazy) to clean up their messes. Our drink for the night was fruit punch. Fruit punch is red. Red stains. Quite a few spills were left for someone else to clean up. The janitor is the only one allowed to mop the floors. I don't even want to know what words were popping out of her mouth when she saw all those red spots under the tables.

Motherbitch #4:

Just one this time. This would be the mom of Kindergarten student, S. S is friends with my son. S is not a friend I like. I don't like the words he uses nor do I like how he treats people. What started as innocent poking and bumping turned into something more.

My boy was having fun playing with S while lined against the wall for the costume contest. The fun stopped when S refused to give my son's hat back. I tried to stay out of it because my boy needs to defend himself. But when that wasn't working, I had to step in and tell S to give my boy his hat back.

Where was S's mom? I have no clue. S is always getting into things. His mom can rarely be found. I don't want to tell my kids who to be friends with, but it's getting close to that point with S.

I feel like I am being mean in my venting, but I really don't understand. As adults, why haven't some people grown up enough to realize they aren't the only ones in the world? And why can't people take more responsibility when it comes to their kids?


Genius word
by an awesome woman

Crock Pot Steak and Potato Soup

While I may not be a fan of this cooler weather, I do love the meals associated with Fall. I also love crock pot meals that are easy to prepare. This is why Steak and Potato Soup is one of my favorite dinners to prepare.

Steak and Potato Soup


1 lb beef boneless round steak

1 lb small red potatoes, cut into 1/4-inch slices

2 medium stalks celery, chopped

2 medium carrots, chopped

1 medium onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1 T beef bouillon granules

1.2 tsp pepper

2 cartons (32 oz each) beef flavored broth

1 jar (6 oz) sliced mushrooms, undrained

1/2 C water

1/2 C flour

1. Cut beef into 1 x 1/4- inch pieces. Mix beef and remaining ingredients, except water and flour in a 5-quart slow cooker.

2. Cover and cook on Low 8-9 hours

3. Mix water and flour in a small bowl; gradually stir into soup until blended. Increase heat setting to High. Cover and cook about 30 minutes or until slightly thickened.

I stick to this recipe, with a few minor alterations.

- A bag of precut celery stalks. Ever since I was pregnant with my son, the smell of raw celery turns my stomach. Since these stalks are smaller, I can cut each one into thirds, toss them in the pot and be done. I use about half a bag.

- A bag of baby carrots. I cut each carrot in half, thirds if one is especially large. I use half the bag for the soup and the other half is for my kids to take in their school lunches.

- 6 beef bouillon cubes is approximately the same amount as 1 Tablespoon of the granules.

Because I am not a morning person, I usually prepare the soup later in the day and cook it on high for 4-5 hours. I slowly add the flour to the water, mixing quickly with a fork. I slowly add this mixture to the crock pot, cover, and continue to cook on high for another 30 minutes.

If you choose to make this soup, I hope your family enjoys it as much as mine.


This post is linked to KludgyMom's I Love Fall Foods

Fall foods

Tooth Fairy Mishap

For weeks, I was freaking out. All because of a tooth. A tooth that belonged to my 9 year old.

She told me almost every day that she had a loose tooth. Do 9 year olds still get loose teeth? It's been far too long since I was that age!

When did she last lose a tooth? Did I write it down somewhere? Which tooth was it? Do I need to call the dentist for her, even though I know her brother is the one who really needs to go?

Those were the questions running through my head on a nightly basis. Her tooth certainly didn't feel all that wiggly to me. I very well could have talked to friends with children her age or older. I also could have turned to the Google for answers. But, no. I chose to worry.

As it turns out, it is perfectly normal for a 9 year old to still lose teeth. I finally turned to the Google after she yanked her tooth out. I'm saying "yanked" because I swear it wasn't that loose! After Master Google calmed my nerves, round 2 of the freak out began. I, being the Tooth Fairy (shh!), needed money. It was not a good week for money. In this house, we happen to enjoy running water and lights to see what the hell we're doing. The weeks we decide it's better to not sit on the couch in the dark stinking to high heaven are also the weeks we happen to have little actual cash in our wallets. It was also after the kids' bedtime, which meant pajamas for me. I'm not the type of girl who wears her jammies out in public. A bank trip was out of the question.

The husband and I scrounged up a few bucks. Teeth aren't cheap these days! And then the waiting game began. My daughter would much rather read than go to sleep. But then her cough started. And then she needed a tissue. And then she needed to refill her water bottle. And then she needed a tissue. And then she needed to pee.

Good grief! Go the fuck to sleep! Tooth Fairy is tired!


11:30 pm

It is silent.

Except for the husband listening to his beloved Bears on the tv downstairs. go Packers

I tip toe to my daughter's room. I push the button on her lamp. The princesses do their dance as the light shuts off. Not so quietly I might add. I freeze and watch. She hasn't stirred. I click on the bathroom light so I can try to avoid the disaster on her bedroom floor. I tried, but was unsuccessful. Nor was I quiet!

I slip the envelope containing her tooth from her bookshelf. I quietly slip a few crisp bills between a soccer trophy and a Little Pet Shop creature. I slink out of her room, reach around the corner, and tap the switch in the bathroom.

"Mom?! Why did you turn off my light?"

Shit! Busted!

I hurdle over American Girl clothes and tap on her lamp. The princesses twirl once again as soft light fills her room. I freeze as I cross my fingers, hoping she rolls back over and drifts off.

She rolls over. I think I'm safe. It might also help that my daughter, at 9 years old, is blind as a bat without her glasses.

The following morning, she was so excited to have some money to add to her jar. I smiled, hoping she stops believing soon. It's easier that way I think.

Just not Santa. He IS real!

The meaning behind

We would stay to the left while walking up the stairwell, afraid they would fall on us. When the warmer weather, came they would gather in corners. Hundreds upon hundreds.

There are many things I learned while at my first college, but the meaning behind my first tattoo is one I will never forget.

Sophomore year. My roommate, she was a rebel. A rebel with tattoos. Wanting to add to her collection, she convinced a mutual friend and I we needed one, too. I scrounged up sixty dollars. A lot for a poor college girl. We drove to a shop in the middle of nowhere. All I could afford was a small tattoo. Flipping through the artist's portfolio, I saw a ladybug and it took me back to that stairwell, where hundreds gathered in the corners.

Tattoo ladybug

My ladybug has since faded, but the memories are strong. I have added to my collection. The ladybug wasn't alone in that stairwell, and it won't be alone on me.

My green dragon flying free. Somewhere I'd like to think that they do exist.

Tattoo dragon

My flowers for my children, who continue to grow like weeds. Each flower represents the month of their birth.

Tattoo flowers

Finally my flowers. A safe place for my ladybug to land. A reminder that I must continue to grow as I age.

Tattoo flowers

My body is a temple. A temple to worship, protect, and decorate. I often wonder what will be next and what meaning it will hold.

Write a piece in which a tattoo figures prominently. Word count - 300. I have 246.
My apologies for the poor picture quality. It's not easy to take pictures of your own body!

Concrit welcome. As well as tattoo ideas!

Mean girls

I worked in the child care field for many years, with numerous age groups. While the job can be extremely frustrating, it did not lessen my love for children. As it is with my own 2 children, I will always love them. But that doesn't mean I always have to like them.

Over the years I have learned that children, who are such little beings, can be mean. Very mean. Especially girls. This is something we are currently dealing with in my house.

My daughter is a little social butterfly. She will play with anyone and everyone. She has always been that way. Over the past year or so I have noticed cliques forming within her classmates. I knew it was a matter of time, but I had hoped she would be the girl that everyone likes. The girl who can float from clique to clique without upsetting anyone.

My hopes are nothing more that hope, slowing fading away.

Two girls that my daughter has played with for years are suddenly ignoring her, at least when the two girls in question are together. My daughter asks to be on their team for one activity or another. She asks to play with them at recess. Every time she asks, some excuse is made to not include her, if they don't completely ignore her all together.

At the tender age of 9, I've already had a talk with my daughter about what a real friend is. Still believing she can be friends with everyone, I know this will take some time to sink in. Because it will take time, I know there will be more heartaches.

I need my girl to understand that she is special. She is a good person with a big heart. Others who pick and choose when they can be friends are not worth her time. I don't care if she is the most popular girl in school. I don't care if she becomes head cheerleader. What I do care about is making sure she surrounds herself with true friends. Girls, and maybe boys, someday, who treat her right. Friends who aren't afraid to say they are her friend. Friends who will stick with her through thick and thin. Friends who will listen to her secrets and keep them close to their hearts.

Mean girls are a part of life's lessons. I know this is only the beginning. I hope my daughter realizes sooner rather than later that she can rise above that. She has good friends. True friends. She is too good of a person to be ignored.

Pour Your Heart Out

How to ruin a potential friendship

Attend, as well as host, a Tupperware party.

In mid-August, a girl from a bar my mom frequents was hosting a Tupperware party. We shall call this girl Tami. Not wanting to go alone, my mom invited me. I was quite excited because I wasn't sure if Tupperware even existed anymore.

The consultant, we shall call her Barbie, was a little too bubbly for my taste. But that doesn't mean we didn't enjoy ourselves. We saw some of the newest products, had some wicked good salsa, and my mom even "won" a necklace. Quotes because she didn't get to keep the necklace, but she could keep what was inside the mini container of a charm. Provided she host a party, of course.

At the end of the party, my mom and I filled out our order forms and chose a date for the party. Guess who got suckered into co-hosting said party? Ya, this girl. We chose a date in mid-September and were told by Barbie she would contact us when she returned from her training in Disney (oh-la-la). She was leaving the following day.

Two weeks pass and my mom and I are beginning to wonder where our products were and when we would hear from Barbie. I turned to the Tupperware website, which happens to be crap. I have an easier time contacting blog owners than someone from the Tupperware corporate office! But I did discover that products take 9 business days to ship. We should have had our products by then, but decided to give it a few more days.

Week three. We finally hear from Barbie, consultant extraordinaire. She says our party is all set up and ready to go. She would send one of us books and order forms within a few days so we could try to get outside orders. I inquired about our products. Our products were shipped directly to Tami because we opted out of the extra cost to have them shipped to us. That little $4.50 option was never explained to us.

This is where everything really started to go downhill.

My mom didn't get to the bar until later that week, when she was finally able to grab our products from Tami's car. Tami had been driving around with our stuff for almost 3 weeks by this point. She had our phone numbers, yet never called. She knew my mom's "friend", who goes there more than my mom, yet Tami never mentioned anything to him. Our books and order forms arrived the following week, 4 days before our party. Two books, order forms we couldn't read, and 4 days does not do well when trying to get outside orders, thankyouverymuch!

By now I was ready to cancel the party, but I sucked it up. If I would have known Barbie was going to talk for 4 damn hours at the party, I definitely would have canceled. We only had 5 people, and that's including my mom and I! She's lucky the party wasn't at my house or I surely would have kicked her out, products and all. Well, most of them.

We closed our party a week later. There were a few more bumps in the road, but not even a week after closing, our products arrived. Thank goodness this debacle was over!

Or so I thought.

Because my mom ordered stuff from Tami, she returned the favor. But instead of giving my mom her order, she gave it directly to Barbie. They're like BFFs or something. We only figured out Tami's order by process of elimination. Since my mom doesn't go to Tami's bar very often, she thought she would return the favor by driving around with her products in the car until she saw her.

Turns out Tami isn't a fan of this being done to her. Tami wants her special water pitcher. Tami has called Barbie, who has sent a text to my mom as well as calling me. We both explained that Tami will get her stuff. We're not sure when, but it will be by the end of the week. I really didn't want to wait a month for my new pitcher either. Karma. That's all I have to say.

And after all of this, Barbie didn't seem to understand why I don't want to be on her team as a consultant. We could all use a little extra money, but sorry honey. I'm not that desperate!

Because I know at least one girl from my party who sometimes reads this, thank you so much for helping me out by ordering and booking a party. I really hope your party goes over just as well as mine did, minus all the talking. But please don't be offended if I don't physically come. I'm not sure I can spend anymore time in the same room as Barbie!

Look, look, over there

I have a new goal for myself. I want to make more of an effort to look better. I am a SAHM, so I don't really feel the need to dress up every day, but I also don't want to look like I just rolled out of bed.

A few weeks ago I participated in a children's consignment event. I don't make a ton of money from this event, but I do make enough to treat myself. This time around, I wanted to put that money towards revamping my wardrobe.

I took my daughter with me to the mall. We walked around New York and Co. for what seemed like forever, wishing I had more money to spend. I finally chose three shirts - 2 tees that I instantly fell i love with and a dark purple, dressier shirt my daughter convinced me to buy. She swore up and down I look good in purple.

By the end of the week, I had also added a few pairs of shoes to my collection - 2 pairs of flats, cute and comfy tennis shoes, and those lovely boots you see in that picture.

Over the past weekend, my mom invited me to join her and my Grandma for some thrift store shopping. I was still on a high from my previous purchases, and I was hoping to find something else that would help improve my wardrobe. After much searching, I did manage to find a few nice shirts. I decided one of them would look nice under a black sweater or jacket. I walked towards the racks of jackets, where my high spirits were immediately crushed.

A tiny, old woman also browsing the jackets began to point and scream at me.

"Look! Look, Mildred! Here's a big woman"

Over and over she screamed, waving her bony finger in my face.

Mildred finally turned around to see what her friend was shouting about. Mildred was pulling tanks and lingerie off the rack to my right. She thought her friend was talking about clothes. Realizing Mildred didn't know what (or who) she was talking about, another round of pointing and screaming about the big woman began.

As you probably noticed in that picture above, I am not a big woman. But just because I'm little, doesn't mean I always like it. I was so excited over finding clothes that fit my body and here comes this little old woman to mock me. I was mortified! Everything in the store seemed to disappear and a spotlight was shining on me. All I wanted to do was run away, but my feet wouldn't move. My legs forgot how to move and my feet were blocks of ice.

Mildred finally caught on. "What are you talking about?! She's an itty bitty thing!"

And just like that, my feet thawed.

And yes, I went running back to my mom.

Chore Jar

When I was growing up, I had a list of chores. Some were only done on the weekends, while others were nightly jobs. Now that my midgets are older, I would like them to start pitching in around the house.

This is easier said than done!

A few months ago I thought I lucked out with having someone else wash the dishes. For almost a week, my daughter happily sang songs while she washed. However, she quickly realized this would be a nightly occurrence. Months later, I still require her to wash the dishes, but it's not without a fight.

My boy is the same way. He will do chores, but it has to be on his terms. Most times, having him do chores is not without a fight. I do not like doing everything around the house on my own. I would like the midgets to help out and teach them about responsibility. While browsing Pinterest, I came across a chore jar. I had every intention of making the same jar as in the picture, but walking around the craft store, I came up with a new idea.


Glass or plastic jar
Wide craft sticks - amount needed depends on the number of chores
2 Small bottles of paint
Markers (I used Sharpies)
Sponge paint brush

1. Using the sponge brush and one of your paint colors,
dab paint and cover the outside of the jar.

Chore jar

2. Using the second paint color, paint half of each craft stick

Chore jar

3. When all of the paint has dried, label your jar and craft sticks

Chore jar
Chore jar

4. Place your completed craft sticks in the jar

Chore jar

As of now I have 6 chores, but I am working on a list of others to add to the jar. Variety is the spice of life, after all!

My plan for this jar is simple. Each Saturday, my midgets will each choose 2 sticks from the jar. Those are their chores for the day. The husband and I have talked about giving the midgets some sort of allowance for their chores. Ever hopeful me, I'd like to think that a sense of accomplishment will be enough to motivate the midgets to want to do their chores every week. However, I think money is going to be the best motivator!

A little consideration please

We all know what happens when we assume. Perhaps I am being an ass in this situation, but that doesn't mean I'm not upset.

Months ago, before summer, my mother-in-law informed me of an upcoming wedding. The husband's cousin was getting married in November. I'm not too familiar with his side of the family, but had every intention of attending. A few years prior we also attending this girl's sister's wedding. Our son didn't join us because he was still a teeny baby, but his older sister was with us.

Now that both of our kids are older and able to go to such events, my MIL was quite excited to buy them new outfits. A new dress for our daughter and an actual suit for our son. I was looking forward to seeing my little boy in a suit and later watching him cut it up on the dance floor.

My MIL and this girl's mother are close and talk quite often. This wedding has been the topic of their conversations for quite some time.

September 11th was the day of the bridal shower. I thought it was tacky, but not my decision to make. I went with my MIL and my daughter. My MIL even bought the bride-to-be a gift specifically from my daughter. We talked of some hassles that went into setting up the bridal shower, as well as conversations about the wedding itself.

Two weeks ago I finally received one of the fanciest wedding invitations I have ever seen. While looking over the RSVP card, I became confused. There were 3 options of what to choose for our main dinner course. I wasn't sure what to do when it came to the kids. Were they expected to eat one of those 3 options, or would there be child friendly meals at the reception?

I held off on filling out the card until I talked to my MIL. I was getting the impression our kids weren't invited to this wedding. My MIL called the bride's mom and asked her what I should do. The response we got - she didn't think children were invited to the wedding (even though there are children in the bridal party).

In all of the conversations my MIL had with the bride's mother, you think "no children allowed" would have been mentioned.

This wedding is on a Friday, at 5pm. Who am I going to find to babysit my kids since everyone I know works? But before I could even worry about that, my MIL told us to not even bother going to the wedding.

I should have assumed that not everyone wants children at their wedding and reception. However, this bride should also have taken into consideration how difficult it can be to find a babysitter on a weekday afternoon.

I'm relieved to not have to attend this wedding, especially since our daughter's birthday is the following day. But I'm upset that this little detail of no kids wasn't mentioned earlier than a month before the wedding.

Pour Your Heart Out