Celebrity Crushes: the Listicle

Here I go showing my age again with a list of my very first celebrity crushes (that I can recall). I can tell you, hands down, who was the first crush (Nicholas on Eight is Enough) but after that, I'm not certain of the order. And yes, there's even a female on my list (I mean, how could I not include badass Jo from Facts of Life?! She was super cool, drove a motorcycle, didn't wear dresses, and wanted to beat the shit out of snobarrific Blair! What's not to love?):

(is that not an adorable photo of Bryan?!)

TILTW: 4/6-4/13

* It's not something brand new that I learned this week... more like something that's ingrained into me even more: How mother trucking blessed I am. It's not about being perfect, it's not about owning a beautiful home and wearing fancy clothes. Rather, it's about who I am as a person. It's about the love in my heart and around me. It's about my Lovie and the kind of child she is and the kind of person I'm raising her to be. It's about being truly grateful for everything I have, everything I am. EVERY DAY. It's about not letting the negativity that others exude take away from how grateful I am for my life. It's about being present every day. It's about being present, being active in living, being grateful.

* Mammograms really aren't so bad but I really hate how my boobs sweat when not in a bra- that skin on skin contact (I have huge boobs) is not enjoyable. Gross. Someone needs to invent boob deodorant or something.

* For a while now, I've been seeing blog posts about people trying to direct other bloggers to disable the Captcha on their comments. I always kinda rolled my eyes at these posts because I just didn't think it was a big deal...until I discovered the amazing community over at Yeah Write and started reading and wanting to comment on some amazing blogs- some of which have the Captcha enabled. Holy shit is it a pain in the ass to click on the comment link, create a comment, click reply and then be asked to prove I'm not a robot by trying to figure out WTF two blurry, slanted "words" are. Please visit this post and read more about Captcha and disable your Captcha. PLEASE! I used to have my comments open to anybody, even anonymous folk. That's when I got slammed with spam. Once I disabled the anonymous, no more spam. So you CAN have a blog without the Captcha and without spam/robots.

* I had a physical last week and got the results from my blood work yesterday. Everything looks fine except for one thing: I have mild diabetes. I can't say I'm all that surprised, but it still saddens me. And I feel a bit angry, too (mostly at myself). It's a damn good thing I feel so blessed in life EVERY DAY. It's a damn good thing I'm all about about being present, being active in living, being grateful. I may write more about all this at a later date. I'm not brushing this under the rug or something. I'm just digesting it all, I guess.

* Again, this isn't something I learned this week so much as it is something that's been proven: Lovie is such a sweet girl. My husband's reply to this is, "Give her time." Heh. Seriously though, this little chica and her big heart amazes me every single day. Yesterday we stopped at the park again. It was truly a picture perfect day and she asked so why not? She wanted to play in the sand box and it's too hard to keep her out (blech) so play she did. Shortly after, a smaller girl, about 1 (tops), comes over to her and gets right in her face. Lovie just kind of looks at the baby and keeps shoveling some sand. I sat a bit away on a bench watching; the baby's dad stood closer watching (he let the baby do her own thing but was right there to scoop her up when/if needed). The baby reached for the shovel and the dad distracted the baby by throwing a red ball her way. This worked for 10 seconds before she wanted Lovie's shovel again. Lovie just kind of looked at her like WTF and kept shoveling. She didn't push the baby, wasn't mean, didn't shout "NO!" or anything; she just went about her business. The dad scooped the baby up and tried getting her to do something else and Lovie and I started chatting about the sand when the baby came back. "Why don't you let her play with the shovel, too?" I asked Lovie. I didn't tell her, I just asked. Lovie allowed it. "That's great," I said. "Let's see if she can fill your bucket." And the baby did just that (well, she tried). Lovie stood there holding the bucket while the baby played with the shovel until she got bored and played again with her ball and Lovie took the shovel back.  It's not the most awesome thing in the world, no; Lovie's not some gifted sharer, no; but I'm just so proud that she didn't just scream at the kid or shove her like has happened to her so many times in her young life. A few minutes later, some kids Lovie's size showed up and started running around the playground equipment so Lovie followed them, her "friends" as she called them. "You don't want to play in the sand anymore?" I asked. "No, I go play with my friends."

* Please. If you get anything, do anything from this post, please READ THIS. #fuckyouALS

Happy Friday the 13th!!

WW: bike ride, a video

We took her out on Easter Sunday for her first bike ride outdoors. Yesterday, she asked to go back out with her bike and as we walked and as I filmed, it dawned on me: this child truly never stops talking. Heh. I've known this for quite some time (our car rides are very interesting), but looking at this video and reliving the little time we were out there, really proved it.

I'm pretty sure you should be able to make out what she's saying but just in case, I've translated it below (her side of the conversation, not mine):

you stinky Mama

standing in da dirt?

i standing in da dirt.

you standing in da dirt.

hey do you see da tightrope?

i wanna take da bike off

a tightrope? i too small

i wanna flower

i wanna pink one

you do one. you do da pink flower, Mama.

Daddy has a pink flower?

all gonna make flowers

Easter

Easter's never been a big deal to me. Even when I was a kid and I'd get chocolate eggs and bunnies, it still wasn't a big deal and I'm guessing that might because, as a kid, I absolutely hated wearing dresses and being all girly and on Easter, it was expected: we had to dress in our absolute best, go to church, visit with family, and be on our best behavior.

Bo-ring if you ask me.

Easter today isn't much different except now I dress myself any damn way I please; I don't do church; I inhale so much fugly pastel colored chocolates long before Easter so that when Easter finally does come, I can pretend like I'm not interested in the candy; and now there's Lovie...of course.

Thankfully.

This Easter was her 3rd and the best one so far. She was telling me she wanted a bunny all last week and I kept telling her Easter was coming and that maybe she'd get one then.

"OK," she'd reply. "A pink one!"

"We'll see," I told her, lying, and knowing very well that she was getting a little white one.

Saturday night after we got home from a very busy day of root canals (me- joy), lunch out at California Pizza Kitchen, and a visit with the in laws, I reminded her that when she woke the next day, it would be Easter. And the next morning when I got up to pee at 6:45, with the sun casting bright orange light down the hall toward the kitchen, I could hear a squeal from Lovie's room followed by, "Hi Mama!" (she has french doors)

I smiled because it's impossible not to around this kid, opened her door and told her I'd be right back after I went potty (and told the hubs to get his ass up and into the dining room with the camera), and when I got her out of bed and changed her diaper, I asked her if she wanted to see if the Easter Bunny had come.

"Yeah!" she whispered with a smile.

The hubs was positioned with a camera under the dining room window where the morning sun brightly beamed through on to the dining room table and down the hallway toward us.

Lovie's basket sat alone on the dining room table.

It wasn't a big basket and really, it wasn't a basket but rather a bucket. Inside was a bucket of bubbles, a sheet of bunny stickers, a little bunny that chirps when its belly gets pressed, a package of pink peeps, and about a dozen plastic eggs filled with either pastel m&m's or jelly beans.

When we exited her room, Lovie started going toward our bedroom and I told her that I didn't see anything in there and that we should check in the living room (open with the dining room).

She didn't notice the bucket.

She didn't notice her dad snapping photos.

Finally I had to tell her that I saw something on the table.

And my girl? Upon laying her big browns on the basket, she gasped so dramatically as if a double rainbow appeared before her. She was in heaven and wouldn't stop smiling.

And it lasted all day long.

She played with her bunny and carried her bucket around with her all morning while playing and watching TV and helping me clean (she wanted to help). Then she took a bath and a two hour nap and when she woke, my dad had been there for about half an hour and the two of them played together for a bit (he brought her a basket with another bigger bunny) while the hubs and I finished making lunch: Ham, Crash Hot potatoes, Prosciutto wrapped asparagus.

After lunch, we had some Lamb cake (Lovie insisted we sing Happy Birthday because of the cake so we did, and when it came time to say the person's name whose birthday it was, my dad sang "Jesus" and we kind of chuckled because, well, Easter is about Jesus rising from the dead so it's kind of like his birthday again, right?!?) and went outside to enjoy the crazy beautiful day.

Lovie rode her bike and we ended up going all the way to the park and back (after playing for a bit at the park)- a good mile in total. And when we got back, we said goodbye to my dad, heated up a couple meatballs for Lovie (her request), and watched Max and Ruby before retiring for the day.

Easter's never been more beautiful.

How come we stop?!

Lovie and I spend a lot of time together in the car as I take her to and pick her up from school Monday through Friday. The morning commute is normally not too bad- about half an hour long, tops. The afternoon commute is generally longer- about 45-60 minutes. We've been doing this together now for over 2 years and we're both still alive to talk about it! : )

That first year wasn't so enjoyable unless Lovie slept through it. Otherwise there was lots and lots of screaming and crying. Sometimes from her, too. ; )

Now that she's a talker (and oh me oh my what a a talker she is), our car rides are very different. 

10 things that can be overheard during our every day commutes to and from school:

"Sing, Mama!" (when a song comes on that she wants me to sing to.)

"Howcahm we stop, Mama?" (this one I get to hear about 100 times every single day on our way home, especially. I just adore living in the city.)

"Oh wow! Cars go fast!"

"That sound mean someone's in tuhble. It's Kacie, Mama! 'What's da problem, Kacie?'" (Yes. My child recites lines from her favorite TV shows. I swear we don't watch that much TV.)

"Hi stinky garbage truck."

"Anahder school bus, Mama?" (because I can fart out school buses.)

"Mama, we go to da farm? I give milk to da cows."

"Macaroni and Trees?! You can't eat that!" (Another TV show.)

"I wanna {bunny}, Mama. A pink one." (last week she wanted a bunny. Before that it was a bike.)

"Howcahm we stop, Mama?"

TILTW: 3/31-4/6

* Every night after dinner, Lovie says, "I want some milk," and I get her down from her high chair, open the fridge, and she gets the milk out of the fridge and gives it to me. I then fill her cup and give the milk back to her to put away into the fridge. Then she gets my water (a bottle) and says, "Here Mama," while handing it to me as I hand her the sippy of milk. One day last week after she gave me the water I said, "Thanks! Cheers!" and tapped her sippy with my bottle. And ever since that day, she gets so excited to "Cheers" with me. "Cheers!"

* Lovie wants a bunny. A pink bunny. "Easter's coming up," I keep telling her, thinking about the little white bunny I have hidden in the closet to tuck inside her basket. "Okay," she responds. "I wanna go to the farm!"  We really need to get out to the zoo soon so this chica can see some animals.

* The Binky (pacifier). I was planning to have the Binky Fairy come after Lovie turned two... but I couldn't do it. She loves her Binky and Grandmabear sooo much.  And she only has it when she goes to bed.  Still, there are times when she wakes in the middle of the night and whines because she "can't find my binky anywhere." Since she now talks about how she's my big girl (*sniff*), I started telling her that she needs to give her binky to a baby since she's a big girl now, and when she does, we'll take her shopping for a new toy. She now talks about this at least once or twice a day: "I give my binky to baby, Mama. We go to store and I get new dollie." I tell her that that would be really nice of her to give her binky to a baby and that yes, when she does, she gets to pick out anything she wants. I've even tried having her give her binky to one of her baby dolls she currently has but it lasts for about 30 seconds before she wants the binky back. Thing is, we don't know any babies so I'm not sure how to go about doing this. I think I'm going to try bringing a binky to school with us one day and see if she'll leave it for the babies in the Infant room and then take her shopping when I pick her up from school... then hold strong that night when she asks for it, reminding her that she gave it away. I guess.

* I'm not a fan of Easter. I'm just not. Yes I picked up a few things and a bucket to put them in for Lovie to get on Sunday but other than that, I just don't care about it. And I feel like the only mama on the planet not dying eggs. Oh bloody well.

Happy Easter nonetheless!

Wordless Wednesday: The jackpot

i know she's mine so it's to be expected (the way i gush), but still... there are times when i look at her, when i watch her, when i study her and just marvel over how incredibly beautiful she is. my lord does she take my breath away sometimes. and her personality? she's such a sweet, gentle one. she's my mega million dollar jackpot.

I Own This

Not to come across as some expert or some conceited bitch, but I own Mama-hood. Currently at least. ;)

I kind of always knew I would own it, too. Once I came to terms with actually wanting to have a child of my own.

I didn't wonder about much of anything during my pregnancy; I didn't get bothered when people told me to enjoy my sleep while I had the chance before the baby arrived (well I did because I slept like ass during most of my pregnancy and yes, I actually sleep better now thank you very much); I completely understood what everyone was saying when they told me to enjoy it all now because it all goes by super fast.

I knew all of this because I own being a Mama. And I own being a Mama because I fucking rocked at being an Aunt.

Not the same thing, you say? I beg to differ.

When my sister asked me to stay with her one summer between my first and second year in college to help take care of her kids, then 5 and 2, so she could work a ton (and apparently party a lot, too) while her then husband was training out of state, I agreed. I became AuntieMa. They didn't call me that, but fuck if I wasn't their Mama for three long months (to a 20 year old with no kid experience, three months feels like three years when it's just you and the two kids 24/7; to a 39 year old with a 2 year old, three months is n-o-t-h-i-n-g).

When I left, I was never so happy and never so sad. Those kids wore me the fuck out with all their crying and whining and not listening and doing exactly as I said the moment I said it. But as soon as I sat on the plane to return home, I cried- the really ugly cry- for the duration of my 3 hour flight home.

Fuck if I didn't miss the shit out of those two (now 25 and 22).

Then my brother, who came back from the Army and got married and had a kid shortly before I left to stay with my sister, moved nearby where I was living with my own Mama. So once I returned from my sisters, I'd visit my brother and his family all the time, and holy hell was that little boy a ton of fun... Till he started whining and crying and screaming about every little thing. They couldn't take him to restaurants- ever- because of how out of control he was.

And when my brother and his ex split, AuntieMa came to the rescue; I moved in with my brother so he could continue working the 3rd shift job that brought more money home, and I whipped my then 4 year-old nephew into shape straight away by yanking the TV out of his room and forcing him to listen to me by continuing to put him into time out one day.

Yes, one day. Getting used to going to sleep without his crack, aka the TV? That took like a full week and I'm not sure how the hell the cops never came barging in since it sounded like we were murdering the poor kid.

That's all it took for me to gain the respect of this child who, to this day (he'll be 20 very soon), respects me... but not many others (especially his parents).

I lived with that boy for four years and leaving him to finally start my own life... was the hardest, most gut-wrenching thing I went through (until I lost my first pregnancy 8 years later). I loved that little boy with everything that I was but I had to leave, I had to start living for me.

And I did.

And several years later I got a call from his mother that really sealed the deal: I OWN THIS.

I wasn't even a Mama yet.

She called me because my brother had moved to another state (something of which had I known, may have altered my leaving in the first place) without my nephew (not going there right now, eh) and she couldn't control him- my then 15 year-old nephew. He was constantly ditching school, smoking weed, starting trouble, getting caught by the cops, etc. And she had absolutely no control over him. (Never did. Ever.)

So she was calling me for help.

ME. Her ex-sister-in-law. The Aunt.

She wanted to know what she should do. He was threatening suicide whenever she'd try to get him to listen, he was becoming abusive toward her and her home.

So I told her what I would do, what she should've done long before that fucking phone call (I mean, really? You're calling me because your kid is threatening to kill himself. How about calling 1-800-SUICIDE?!): Call the cops and have him institutionalized.

And. Because I OWN THIS. She listened.

(Unfortunately for her and him, she didn't follow through, like always, and took his ass out of the hospital after a week, and the kid is now in no better shape than he was 5 years ago other than knowing not to threaten suicide again.)

The thing is, I did NOT always own this parenting thing.

I really didn't.

I didn't read any books or take any classes (though I've seen my fair share of Supernanny- holla!) to become this awesome; it's just something that's stuck with me over the years. Spending three months with my nephew and niece 20 years ago when I was absolutely clueless helped guide me to Owning This; it was a great place to start (and for sure it was by far the best form of birth control I've ever seen- not that I was in any danger of procreating at that time). And obviously four years living with and helping nurture a little boy didn't hurt my achievement of Owning This either.

But really it's my love for watching and helping a young mind learn and grow that's helped me the most. The kids, they rely on us completely for so long. We kind of owe it to them to Own it. I mean, if you're ready to have a family and purposely set forth to procreate, the least you could do is grasp the reality of what's going to transpire: that a child is going to depend on your every... thing... to survive and just OWN IT.

Own who you are: a Parent.

Own your parenting skills.

I'm not saying everyone should listen to me. And again, I'm not saying I'm some expert. I'm just saying that I OWN THIS. In my life, with my child and nephews and nieces. I OWN THIS parenting thing.

Do you?

What's the point?

Last week I wasn't feeling too hot and that carried over to my motivation for this place; I just didn't really have much to say.

I still don't, really. : /

I mean, of course I do but... I don't know.

I'm in a bit of a slump lately, I guess. I'm in that mood where you wonder why you even bother blogging. I don't do it for money though I'd be more than happy to make some as a result. But I don't, so why keep going?

Why do I keep blogging?

* Free therapy.

* Connecting with others.

* To practice writing, my first true love.

* To gush about Lovie, the love of my life.

* To get a peek into others' lives. (Voyeuristic much?)

* To possibly learn about new things, see things from another perspective.

* To make the day go by faster whilst at work. (Let's be real.)

* To become famous. (You never know, right?)

* So that Lovie can become famous. (I mean have you SEEN this child?)

* Because I can.

Today's topic at Monday Listicles is really Guilty Pleasures, but since I've done that already and have been in a bit of a pickle of a mood regarding my blogging, I'm going this route instead.

Eyes

linking up with The Paper Mama Challenge