Confesh Sesh

Written a couple of months ago {as the stamps now come in handy a couple months later}

-My heart always hurts a little when I see old people out eating lunch by themselves. Or those that walk really slow, struggling. I just want to go sit with them and talk to them.

-I will not eat the yolk of the egg when its hard boiled. Ever. However, I will if we go out to eat or husband cooks some eggs. Over easy, just the way I like it.

-Did you know though that one egg has 73% of your daily Cholesterol intake. You do now.

-Did you know that my husband has high cholesterol {hereditary}. So he takes medicine. I married an old man.

-I cannot just buy one thing on sale at the grocery story. I have to buy multiple. Bulk. Why? Because its on sale, why else.

-You want to know what is really good that I used to eat all the time? Cucumber and sugar. OH MA GAH. Lick your lips right now. That good.

-You want to know what also is really good with cucumber? Just deli meat and tomatoes. I lived off that in College. Well... that and ice cream, brownies, and vodka. Usually the opposite order though. And greasy pizza and cheesesticks.

-I used to eat raw hot dogs all the time.

-I also used to eat a whole package of bacon every day.

-I ate two bagels the other morning. I know, shoot me. The problem is, I could have eaten even more. Cream cheese and all. Pregnancy is in full gear in this household. How I have only gained 11 pounds? I have no idea.

-The stamps on my envelopes when I send mail out? Christmas ornaments. Why? Because I had husband buy way too many last year and I have enough to last me until this Christmas. That means if you have ever received mail from me this past year? It's been a glimpse of Christmas for you. And? I kind of like it. To the point that I think I'm going to tell husband to get extra this year again, too.

-I went to my parent's house the other day. My mom proceeded to tell me that her dog {a sharpei} somehow got a chunk of his skin on his face to peel off. My parent's solution? Super glue. I wish I made this stuff up. I wish I did.

-Speaking of mom. When I was over at her house... a telemarketer calls. She answers. "Hello.".... the person on the other line speaks. She says, "Hello." The person speaks some more. She says "Hello." And then you hear snickers on the other end. "Have a good day ma'am."

And me? Well I was literally grabbing my stomach laughing so hard.

Telemarketers? Don't call my parent's house... mom will only play jokes on you.

Oh those funny random thoughts in my head that I put on paper. Or computer.

9.13.12

* I can't tell you how many times my dog gets kneed in the face, a day. Or stepped on. He is just always there. And so happens to be there when my knee goes up. Or I turn my leg this way, or that way. I  mean seriously, I feel bad about it. But at the same time? Dog! Why are you always there!

* Speaking of said dog, if dogs could have a creeper status... mine would be at the top. 

* You know... since I work at the hospital.... and I see it all... I always make a mental note in my head to make sure I am always nice and shaven. Why? Because you just never know when you might wind up in the hospital. And the last thing I want is to someone to think I'm some hairy gorilla....

* I need you guys to all sponsor my blog so I can buy Elliana this ridiculous amazing swing set masterpiece. No really. If every one of you would just donate 1 dollar... we could make this happen! But really... really... come sponsor us! I'll even give you 25% off using code: playground
Clever, huh?

* I get my hair cut at great clips. Go ahead, drop those chins to the floor. Best money saving tip out there. Unless you want to get some sort of style, or do any major changes {highlights, perm, the Miley Cyrus do}...I highly suggest just saving those pennies and walking ino GC, with no shame. I believe those ladies are certified in using scissors.

* I saw Justin Bieber driving the other day. In a yellow volkswagon. NO LIE.

* Sometimes, I get a thought in my head... I think about how its supposed to play out... and then I expect that to happen. When it doesn't? I'm left confused. For instance... take this conversation that I had over the phone with an employee from Auto Zone a few weeks ago at 8 in the morning.
Me: Hi, I'm calling to inquire about brake fluid.
Guy: Yes? What about it?
Me: I just want to get an approximate cost.
Guy: It's pretty cheap.
Me: Okay... how cheap?
Guy: Bottles vary about 4-8 dollars and you need x number of bottles.
Me: And then how much does it cost to get done?
Guy: Get what done?
Me: The brake fluid
Guy: What do you mean
Me: {scratching my head}.... um... how much do I pay you to do it for me
Guy: Pay me to do what? The brake fluid for you?
Me: Yes {why does he seem so confused by my question}
Guy: Well normally.... people do it themselves, it's pretty easy.
Me: How easy?
Guy: Easy.
Me: Like my husband can do i?
Guy: Like my 5 year old can.
Me: That's a pretty impressive 5 year old.
Guy: Any other questions?
Me: Well ya... but... no.

.....I was later informed that auto zone is a parts store...

ah, ha. Now that makes sense.....

* So call me crazy... but I can totally see myself being one of those people to drive around with a helmet on. And have my children wear one too. Coming from the girl who refused to wear a seat belt as a teenager.

*I made the husband drive 25 minutes to the apple orchard a couple of weeks ago. When we pulled up to the middle-of-nowhere... I quickly realized that it was still August. Which means, not fall. Which means, no apples to be picked. Personally, I think that's a bunch of bogus. I should be allowed to pick apples all year round. Summer, spring, fall, and winter.

*Speaking of driving, why is it that when I'm lost and trying to get directions from someone, they insist on using north, south, east, and west. I mean, seriously, give me landmarks people. Right and left. North, south, east, and west? It all looks the same to me.

*A few weeks ago, I was downstairs at work craving fries. I was in line waiting for my fries. I proceeded to add this amazing seasoning to my fries when all of a sudden I am interrupted by a fairly larger older lady with her ignorance and stink eye "Don't you know that's bad for you." UM. Lady. Don't you know that you are about 100 pounds larger than me, and I'm pregnant... what's your excuse?

Ahem. And that was aggression of the very hungry pregnant woman talking.

*Now, have you already forgotten the code for your advertisement spot? Good thing I remembered. Use code PLAYGROUND at checkout to get 25% off ALL ads {including booked}. Read the details and testimonials here. Would love to have you!

The Puppy Love that we've all been through... and the kind our children will too.

We have all been there. Fallen in "puppy" love. You know what puppy love I'm talking about, right. The kind where you're barely old enough to be called a teenager because you just graduated from a training bra a couple months prior. The kind where you have a picture of him with a large red heart around his face in your locker, not to mention the ten others stashed in your agenda book. All while blushing at the site of his mighty good looks. Each and every time. You know the kind where you run to your mom's room at night and profess your love to her, for him. And you SWEAR you are going to get married. No matter what she says.

That's the puppy love I'm talking about.

So children, my dear children, when you're older and somewhat wiser, please read this carefully as I will tell you how your puppy love will not be your first real love {unless you are like your grandparents who have dated since 7th grade}, because yours truly has been there, done that, and screamed at the top of her lungs, THIS IS THE REAL DEAL.

I'm here to tell you, it's not.

Let me take you back when... yours truly, just graduated from a training bra {I apologize if I have a son who is somewhat embarrassed at the thought of his mother in a training bra. Or any bra for that matter}.

You see, I had just finished 7th grade and I would, in a few short months, be at the top of the school. The big 8th grader. The before high school year. The big deal.

And this particular summer my parents had planned a big family trip to Hilton Head island, and I was so excited I made my dad take me shopping. My poor dad.

I was determined to get my very first bikini {you see what I mean... poor dad}. And I remember the day like it was just yesterday.

I found one at Macy's that was bright yellow. String. And gave me some.... va-va-vooom {Okay, who am I kidding.. there was no va-va-voom to be had}.

I packed it in my suitcase and thought about it the whole drive down to South Carolina. I just couldn't wait to put it on and hit the sand on the beach. I was going to be like the big girls you know.

And the very next day, Sunday, I did just that.

Within hours of being at the beach, I spotted a boy. A tall, handsome, scrawny little boy that had a movie star smile. Insert blushing teeny-bop.

He eyed me too. Must have been the little yellow bikini. IT WAS the yellow string bikini. I was certain. And for the next couple of hours we would glance at each other and flirt from afar.

I had already, at this point, made up my mind. I was in L-O-V-E. Yes, the mind and heart of a 12 year old. I had butterflies, I was certain this was the "real deal."And I hadn't even spoken to him.

And as I am packing up to head back to the condo, his friend and him come up to me. And they do the whole, we're "15 or 16" deal. Older kids {turns out they were my age}. And the whole, "want to go to the pool" and "nice bathing suit." Pick up lines I believe?

MELT. I knew it... he DOES love my suit. Insert more gushing from the teeny bop.

So we ended up spending the next two days, him, me, and his friend at the pool. At the beach. Eating lunch together. Back to the pool. Back to the beach.

And then when he was supposed to go back home and decided to stay a couple weeks longer with his grandmother "just so he could hang out with me more" well... that is it. He could have proposed right there and then, and I would have said yes.

The hand holding began, and I was just the puppiest of all in love.

And on my last day, I cried my little eyes out, carved a big heart in the closet of my room {in the condo that was not ours} with our initials, and then wrote an entry in the journal that the owners have for guests...

"Thank you for having us here. This has been the best time of my life. I met a boy, and I think I'm in love.

Thanks to my little yellow bikini."

-Becky, Indiana 7/12/2000

Now, lets talk about the after thought. You would think that I met a boy on the beach for a week, innocent flirting, and once the vacation was over... then that was that.

Oh no.

Hello, princess love stories don't end like that right?

No. Lets just say said boy sent me a mushy gushy pre-teen, I barely have hair under my arm pits, email, that said something around the lines of..." I had the best week ever, and I can't stop thinking about you."

And there went my heart. For the second time. Jumping to the moon and back. Over and over again.

And so the for the next two years. Gulp. Yes. You read that right. Two years. We emailed. We chatted. We talked on the phone daily. We were... in puppy love. The poodle canoodle kind of puppy love.

And yes, I do recall being that girl running to my mom, jumping on her bed, and proclaiming that I was going to marry him. You shall ask her yourself.

So how do we put an end to this love story? Why you bring them back together.

I told him when my family was vacationing back there... gave him the dates... and wa-la... almost two years to the date... we meet back again at the very same beach we met.

Insert fireworks.

Except this time? Wasn't exactly the whole "princess and prince fairytale" that I had envisioned in my head.

In fact, it was the complete opposite. So much so, that I left that week realizing that... well... he's not going to be my husband after all.

The love story?

Ended.

My first puppy love story. Just like that. Over.

I'm pretty sure I cried some unhappy pitiful sobbing tears. Pretty sure. And I'm pretty sure I said at one point or another that my life was over now that I couldn't have my prince. Pretty sure. And I'm pretty sure that I told my mom to "get out" when she tried to explain to me that..."honey... there are more fish in the sea."

Pretty sure.

And you know what? She was right.

Because before I found MY one fish... I had to go through plenty others.

So children, when I tell you that I've been there... trust me when I say... I have.
And when I say that he/she is probably not "the one"... trust me... I know.
And when you have your heartbroken and you cry your eyes out?....
Trust me when I say...


There are plenty more fish in the sea.

The tripod, bertha. The good and the bad.

I sometimes wonder if I am the only nutty mama out there that insists on having pictures done at every event. And if at all possible, family pictures.

The problem is, sometimes, there are occasions where there is no one else to take the picture.

In those situations, often times, I will take some pictures of the husband and the baby girl. And then the husband will take some of me and her. And there you have it... a split family.

And then I whip out bertha. The tripod. The-I-take-your-pictures-for-free-stand.

Problem is, I can't see what kind of faces my husband is making. I can't see them, which means I can't stop them.

He thinks this is just the funniest thing in the world. Ruining a perfectly good family picture.
Then when he does smile? The baby doesn't look.

Or when she does? She looks mad.

 And then you have the ones that really go wrong. The pictures you don't want people seeing. The ones that really capture the difficulty in family photos with a child.

Yet, they make me giggle. Belly laugh.

The torture my daughter is thinking. Straight torture. In the form of a lens. And a stand.

I just can't help but wonder what my neighbors think of us.

That strange strange family.

If Elli Could Talk.... Edition 1.

We wear diamonds on our feet. SERIOUS.

So yesterday {3/29/12}, Elliana and I decided that we would make today a zoo day afternoon.  And by we, I mean I, since Elliana isn't into holding conversations these days. At least not ones that I can actually understand. But certainly E wasn't objecting to it.  And we may or may have not been at the zoo just this past Saturday. Two reasons. One, the zoo is a great learning opportunity. "E-L-A-F-A-N-T." "R-I-I-N-O-O."  Two, we bought a year long membership last weekend.

Therefore, my expectation is that Elliana is able to list all the animals. And spell their name. Frontwards and backwards. And that my friends would be what I like to call money-well-spent.

Okay, we are running off course here....

Elliana and I were matching this day. Yesterday. Again, she insisted. That child.

And when we arrived, I had no idea how many stares, and pointing, and "ohhh-ahhh" we would get. I mean to be honest with you, we were giving the animals a run for their money.

Why you might ask? Well.. because of this.

And that my friends is a mama and her daughter both wearing matching toms. TOMS. Aka shoes-that-will-get-you-all-sorts-of-attention.

Lets talk about this attention. The little kids? "Coooool they match mommy!"

The big kids "Two TOMS!"

The old man that offered to take our picture in our really cute matching get-ups.

The young-really-cute-I-wish-we-were-friends {in a non-lesbian way}-mama... "Where did you get those!! We have been staring at them, and we love that you guys match!"

And that was when it happened friends. I wanted to get a girls number. This girls number. AH. A girl! But it's more than that. This girl had another baby girl. And she was super cute, young, hip, and have I mentioned she is a mom?!

But I didn't get her number. Exaggerated sigh. And we didn't form a mommy friendship. Another sigh. But I promise you if we ever cross paths again... I'm going to ask her on a mommy date. Hold me to it.


And just when I thought the zoo experience couldn't get any better....

An older mama and her daughter almost ran us down gushing over our shoes. And then she did the un-imaginable....

"Can I take your guys' picture"

On her camera mind you. Not mine. Which means... she has the picture... not me.

"Um? Sure!"

Snap. Awkward. Snap.

And there you have it friends. What I thought would be just a relaxing time at the zoo with my daughter turned into a celebrity status moment. All because of two pairs of shoes. Two matching pairs of shoes. Comparable to us... wearing diamonds on our feet.

Good thing we had our paparazzi shades on. Sporting our animal print leggings {for the animals... obviously}.

And mastered our serious-i'm-too-cool-for-you-face. That.

Now if only we could figure out how to get the matching I will find you mommy friend shoes Toms in EVERY COLOR.


Feel free to send us some, Toms. Thanks.

Straight out of a dental horror movie. Starring: BECKY.

Lets talk about my recent dental experience.

To catch everyone up lets just give a little brief run down. My tooth chipped when I was pregnant. And by chipped, I mean it was mostly gone. Gone gone. Gone with the wind. Poof be gone my pearly white molar {most of it}. Like magic. One minute it is there... and the next? Not.

And the kicker? It was while eating soft white bread. Now if that is not the dental devils kicking me straight in the rear... then I don't know what is.

But, good news? It didn't hurt. Or, not so good news. As this resulted in me completely ignoring it {bad nurse bad}, and going about my way.

And then we started having this crazy baby talk. You know... the baby number two talk. And I said "crap shat mother eff ugh. suck. beh."  In so many words.

Because this meant I had to go to the dentist. This meant that I had to deal with the situation. And the situation I did not want to deal with.  But when it comes to my babies and their safety? Then that of course comes number one.

And dental hygiene in pregnant women is very important.

So I make the call. I set up the appointment. I even go as far as show up to the appointment. That is a shocker in itself. I sit in the chair, and I open wide.

"Well yah. Boy. You sure did chip it." Ahem. Smarty pants. Would you like a cookie for that brilliant observation?

And then the dreaded words. "Wellll... although you haven't hit nerve yet, you are close. And although I could just fill it, I am afraid that you may just end up needing {insert panic face right about now as I already know what he is about to say} a root canal."

I could have slapped him in the face. I could have even thrown my purse at him. I don't know about you. Although this and although that business doesn't fly with me. Put it to me straight doc. Do I need one or not. Don't butter me up. Don't sugar coat it. I'm not food here.

So yes. I did need one. And I got one. And I survived {who would have known}. And I was even {hate to say this} pleasantly surprised of how not bad it was after all. It may have had to do with the fact that the dentist babied me and talked me through the whole thing. Or the fact that he gave me a little extra numbing. And he even gave me breather breaks. Drama queen.

And so I thought the worst part was over. My friends. My twitter buddies. Bloggers. Everyone shouted out at the top of their lungs "WORST PART OVER! Now you just have the crown left. Piece of cake."

I'll show you a piece of cake.

It.Was.The.Worst.Experience.Ever.

First, the dentist puts this contraption in my mouth. Looks like the thing is going to eat my face and then work its way down. Then, without telling me, the said "contraption" starts squirting water in my WIDE OPEN mouth. And then I start gagging while this contraption is still in my mouth prying it open. And after the dentist took it out of my mouth... there was a lot of...

"Well. Gee. Don't ya think you should warn someone before you try to choke them." Common courtesy. All while I'm still choking and gagging in between words. Talk about traumatic experience.

So I x'd that idea. The contraption idea. Doc needs to figure out a new device. And he needs to figure it out quick. And we went on our way.


1.5 hours later. A lot of JABBING of my gums by a said dental tech that did not peep one word to me. Not even her name. Hello. If you are going to take your anger out on my gums, say a thing or two. It's already awkward enough.

Needless to say... I ran out of there at the speed of the light.  But not without telling the dentist that this is exactly why I fail to show to the "every 6 month appointments."

No call no show to the devil chair. Mmmhmm... no thanks.

What the H is wrong with this sippy cup {per Elli}

at least she has some manners.

#momwin

and yes. i tried these myself... and you can't suck a single thing out.
they are clearly made for aliens.
giant aliens.