The Summer of Boys

I haven't been writing again lately. Obviously.

You see I'm living in this wonderful world of Little Boy Land and we've been busy squeezing every moment of enjoyment from it we can.

This is the summer when my children are no longer "too little". They're full on BOYS. They love sticks and dirt and bugs and asking questions about every single thing that might ever slightly occur to them.

"Momma, why can't vampires see their reflections?"

My after-work hours are filled with Nerf darts and Transformer masks, baseball gloves and popcicles.

Transformer mask + Batman costume = Perfection!

We've been to baseball games and parades, gone camping, taken off the training wheels and jumped in the pool. Fifty-six hundred times.

Will looks nervous for his turn.

We've gone out for ice cream at bed time, colored our hair blue and purple and climbed on rocks.

My life is a whirlwind of applying and reapplying sunscreen and Shout!ing out the dirt from the seats of my sons' shorts. I've attempted to teach them how to roast the perfect marshmallow, how to choose the right spot for your tent, how to put up that tent. Taught them how a compass works, how to use binoculars and to say "thank you for having me."

I've applied and removed temporary tattoos and stickers and Spiderman band-aids. I've put "itch medicine" on "skeeta bites" and Neosporin on scrapes. Explained why you shouldn't scratch either.

Grinning with bubbles on his tummy!

Its no wonder that I'm exhausted. But you know?

I'm unbelievably blessed to have all of this.


I needed to write this today, to remind myself of just how lucky I am to have my kids and the life I have. I had a bit of a breakdown last week -- some days it all just feels like too much. In addition to being a single parent and working my job and paying my bills and balancing a budget and making a home and trying to have some sort of personal life of my own...its overwhelming to always be the kind of parent who wants to give my kids more than what I had as a kid; to be the parent who does all of the "extras" and has fun and teaches and has patience through it all. Some days it feels hopeless to think that possibly...maybe...I might not always be doing all of this alone. I was feeling defeated and powerless and tired. Why do I bother to keep doing all these extra things for my kids? Do they even notice? Do they care? Does anyone? I needed a friend to kick me in the pants and remind me that when I feel like no one notices, she does. When I feel like no one loves me that I have her, and my kids...THEY love me, always. Even when I'm being stupid. And THEY are the reasons that I keep going...keep hoping...keep giving it my all. Even if no one else notices.

Words to live by

Lately, I've felt myself struggling.

I feel comfortable with the big things in my life - my job, my apartment, my kids. I'm thankful for all of it to the point that sometimes I get teary thinking about how blessed I am -- to be able to pay my rent, to live comfortably, to have a good job, to have two healthy, smart, crazy little boys.

But its almost as if, because I've taken care of the basics - food, shelter, clothing - that I now find I'm sitting back, looking at the minutia and feel like I'm overwhelmed by it all.

My kids had a BAD night the other night. Whining and crying and fighting -- and I was ashamed at my reaction to them. On top of it, we had friends over to witness our group meltdown. It was absolutely horrid.

There's too much to do, too little time in which to do it, and school starts next week. I'm stressing about things I have no reason to stress over. Worrying about things that are out of my control. I'd love to take my own advice but sometimes it just doesn't stick, you know?

So, after days of wading through the muck and mire, and fed up with myself, I literally took pen in hand today and wrote down on paper what I was going to do, so as to see, in black and white, how I was going to get my life back to "center".

And then I prettied it up and made it purple for you.

This was influenced, I'm sure, by my love for Pinterest and posting quotes to my "Werds" board, this post by the lovely Lucrecer Braxton who always has amazingly inspiring quotes to share on Facebook, and this post by Alli Worthington on Life Lessons for her boys. Thanks for the encouragement and inspiration, ladies - I've started to feel better already!

What would your "Words to Live By" say?

Reason, season, lifetime...you know...all that happy jazz

Before I left for my North Carolina trip I was having a hard time. With life. In general.

I have a lot of people fooled, apparently. They say things to me like, "Gosh, how do you do it all?"

And I respond with a very honest, "I don't. There's no way you can. Something always gets short changed. The trick is you have to constantly switch up what gets overlooked." (Though I won't lie - "half-assed" is typically used in there somewhere.)

But I was so over-stressed it was like I was operating in manic mode. I was over-the-top, brain filled to capacity, can't keep track of where my kids are or when my husband is working. You think I'm exaggerating, don't you? But its true. My hubby has this crazy, shifting, all-over-the-place-plus-court-dates-and-training-and-overtime schedule.

To be the wife of a cop, yo. It sucks.

So while *I* might not know where my children were when I was at work, he did. (I hope.) I'd pick them up from the sitter's and say things like, "Well...we'll see you...sometime...again...soon. I think." Cuz I didn't even know the next time they were due to be with her. We give her a schedule one month at a time and add/delete/modify as needed. She's pretty much a freakin' angel that way.

I'd leave things on the counter at home...such as my lunch.

I'd promise two friends we'd do two different things on the same day...at the same time.

I don't think my child has brought a library book back to school on time once this entire school year.

And my response to all of this?

I'd laugh.

Cuz if I didn't? I'd probably cry.

There are some days when my life just seems so completely out of my control that I will yell and piss and moan and swear that come hell or high water I am going to pull my four-year-old out of his two-day-a-week two-hour-a-day 3K program and just send him to full-time day care because it would be easier. And then I'd get a sitter for every Friday night so that I have some sense of sanity, regardless as to whether my husband was working that night or not.

And then 10 minutes later I'd be like, "Self, don't go all off the deep end. Will loves his school and you KNOW you're not pulling him out. But the babysitter thing...yeah...do that."

So that is why, when I flew into the teensie tiny little Wilmington, North Carolina airport (the one with the rocking chairs) I had NO IDEA that it was actually 45 minutes away from the beachfront hotel where I was staying.

I typically plan my travel so as to think of all the responsible things (like how I'm getting to the airport, then from the other airport to the hotel) but leave room for all the spontaneous fun things (like trekking down to Myrtle Beach, SC for a night of karaoke with the girls).

Only on this trip? Yeah...brain overload. I thought, while packing the night before, that maybe I should look into airport shuttles or taxis or something, but then I thought, "Self? How many times have you traveled by yourself? YOU GOT THIS."

I so totally didn't.

I landed in this itsy bitsy airport and found that not only was my hotel 45 minutes away, but that a cab ride there was going to cost me between $65-85.

So I sent a text to Melissa. "What time do u get in? Ur flying into ILM, right?"

To which she didn't respond because she was in the air.

But I was *pretty* sure she was flying into the same airport, and *pretty* sure it was the flight from Philly. The one due to arrive TWO HOURS after the time at which I checked the flight board.

And I was *pretty* sure she'd mentioned previously about having a friend who could pick her up from the airport, but I figured that even if she didn't, we could split the cost of the cab ride, and if she did and there was no room for me, well, then I'd just suck it up and pay for the cab ride myself.

So...what to do for two hours?

Wilmington International Airport (I'm not exaggerating the "International" part - that's actually its name) has eight gates, one terminal, a gift shop and a bar and grill. I sat with a Miller Lite and a bag of potato chips and read a book until I got hurried text messages from Melissa that yes, her (wonderful, savior) friend Lisa was picking her up and yes, (wonderful, savior) Lisa had room for me, too.

Wonderful savior friend Lisa? IS AWESOME. Not only did she tell us about the city of Wilmington as we drove through it, but she took us to the most awesometastic place for lunch. Where we sat outside in 65 degree weather. A NEAR MIRACLE TO TWO GALS FROM THE COLD NORTH IN FEBRUARY.

This was our view as we ate.

The food was really good. And none of us were shy about getting our geek on, either. We'd finish what we were saying about social media as we also tweeted about what we were eating. Ain't no shame.

Scallops Rockefeller. YUM.

A WAAAAY better way to spend the afternoon than taking an expensive cab by myself and sitting in the hotel waiting for the one person I knew to arrive, if you ask me.

The ride back to the airport on Sunday with Lisa was even better, if you believe it. Again, I was fully prepared to cab my way back on my own, as I had a 6 p.m. flight and Melissa's was much earlier. Somehow I was persuaded that Lisa didn't mind, and I figured that I could at least get a ride to the airport and wait out the afternoon. I thought I'd probably finish my book, write a blog post and drink about four more Miller Lites.

'til she leaned over from the driver's seat and said, "Well, I promised my son a souvenir, so if you want to come along with me to the surf shop, you're more than welcome to." Um, see more of this (warm) city or sit in a rinky dink airport? YES PLEASE.

So off we went. As we were walking out of the store, she says, "Are you hungry? We could go grab some lunch." Again, with the yes please. {LOVE.}

We got back in the car, and by this point in the afternoon the day had gotten quite warm. The windows were open and my hair was blowing across my face as she rattled off a few places where she thought we should eat.

To which I replied, "Oh, either is fine by me!" and I meant it. I'm pretty flexible that way - I like just about anything. And also? We could've gone through the drive through at Taco Bell and I'd have ingested less grease than at that airport hole-in-the-wall.

Then she said something like, "Oh, there's this GREAT place for seafood, but its out in Kure Beach. Its a little bit of a drive, but I don't mind if you don't mind."

I had no idea where Kure Beach was, so I simply replied, "That sounds good, too. Whatever you want."

Oh dear Lord. Kure Beach was a little bit of heaven.

She had no idea how honest I was when, over my plate of garlic grilled shrimp I said, "You have no idea how happy this makes me."

I mean, it could have been the four days by myself - getting up when I wanted, showering when I wanted. Or it could have been the camaraderie or the laughing or the conference itself. Or maybe the sand or the sun or the ocean waves lulling me to sleep.

Whatever it was, my soul found peace in a tiny little hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Kure Beach, North Carolina.

And I more than sorta owe it all to her.

Thanks, Lisa. You're a world-class lady.

Finding God

We were drunk.

I mean, not really drunk. We'd each had only two beers. It was the addition of the karaoke and the dancing and the laughing that had us in such an inebriated mood. We pulled back into the parking lot of the hotel screaming the lyrics to Bon Jovi's Dead or Alive and decided it was horrific that as close as we were to the beach our toes had not yet touched sand.

So round about 2 a.m. we pulled on our winter coats and made our way through the hotel. We were probably in front of the live web cam that's focused on the outdoor pool when we shouted,

"I've seen a thousand places -- AND I ROCKED 'EM ALL! CUZ I'M A COWBOY..."

 Hell YES we could sing.

It was dark and windy. As we opened the gate and made our way down the wooden staircase to the beach Melissa worried, "I hope there's no glass." To which I replied, "I hope there are no murderers." Perspective, y'all.

Suddenly I looked up. STARS. Hundreds and hundreds of stars. Gasping, I grabbed Melissa's arm. "LOOK UP." It was breath-taking.

The sand was freezing cold, but we made our way to the water's edge. "Be careful!" she hissed.

"I'm just going to put my toes in." It was like a need at that moment. I had to touch that water.

It was ice cold. Shockingly cold. I looked up at the waves that were noisily crashing into the sand just feet away from me.

There was no end to the ocean. It just blended right into the black sky, and the stars reached down to touch the water. It was amazingly powerful. We were part of this...this endless cycle...this chain that started in the dark sky and looped around into the water and crashed back up at us. It was powerful and beautiful and awe-inspiring.

We both stood there, in the freezing cold sand with our hair whipping about us, just staring.

Then we yelled into the wind,

"CUZ I'M A COWBOY...ON A STEEL HORSE I RIIIIIDDEEEE...CUZ I'M WANTED, WAAAANTED, DEAD OR ALIIIIIIIVVVEEEE...."

 
Photo by The Chatty Momma

Therapy

I have this crazy friend, Melissa. She sent me a message a few months ago, saying, "There's a small blogging conference in North Carolina in February. On the beach. We should go!"

Now...the temperature in Wisconsin in February is about 30°. Southeast North Carolina? In the 60°s. And because its a first-time conference, the cost was low, and the airfare was reasonable, too. (It actually cost me less to fly and stay here than it would have cost for me to fly to Detroit to see her!)

So I replied, "OK!"

And that is how I've found myself at the Ocean Isle Inn this week, in a room facing the ocean.

Looking at water has always been therapeutic for me. It calms me...soothes my soul and eases away the crazy tension that every day life collects.

And hanging out with a bunch of other chickie friends and laughing until 1 a.m. ain't bad, either.

The best birthday EVER.

I think I've hit a new high for birthdays this year, and not sure I'll ever be able to top it.

The Hubster worked the night before, so even though I took the day off work I had to get up with the kids and get them ready for school and the sitter's. We didn't have to get up as early as we normally do, which was nice, but Nick still got up about a half hour earlier than the alarm. I somehow was able to convince my six-year-old that he should crawl under the covers and cuddle with me...and I'm fully aware of how few times that will probably happen in the future.

Finally, at ten to seven, I let him get up and went to wake Will. Somehow, we were totally on top of things that morning. Some days there is whining and fighting and indecision as to who wants what cereal. But Friday morning there was peace and smiles and even singing.

Ignore the random pile of school papers on the table.

Jay got home from work in time to take Nick to school, so Will and I had some time to just kinda hang out. Around 8:45 he and I left - I dropped him off at the sitter's with his lunch and I headed to the spa.

I am personally of the opinion that THAT is how women should spend EVERY birthday. Take the day off work and go let people exfoliate and rub down just about every inch of your body. Men, don't ask your wife what she wants. You'll probably mis-hear her and get the wrong thing or pick out something that completely doesn't fit. Send her to get a massage and a facial, and if the package includes it, some rejuvenating dew body wrap thingie with steam.

So, after three plus hours at the spa I was starving. I actually skipped sitting in the sauna or the hot tub in favor of a shower and a late lunch with the Hubster. Look - I erased every possible good thing I did for my body that morning by stuffing my face with nachos. But they were goooood nachos.

We finished up our gooooood nachos just in time to go pick Nick up from school. I don't think we've ever been able to both be there to pick him up before, and he had a grin from ear to ear when he saw us both standing there. Then we went and got the other kid and came home.

I had just enough time to run to the store - by myself! - and see if I could find a new shirt to wear out for the evening. I didn't, but wasn't all that worried about it. I came home and started getting ready to go out for the evening.

We left the house around 5:15 and dropped the kids off at The Hubster's Mom's. The kids were happy to get to sleep over at their Grandma's and we were happy to be kid-free for an evening.

We had 6:30 reservations for Buca di Beppo's with a group of our friends. Buca's = YUM. And look - we got a BABS. (Big ass birthday sundae.)

After dinner, we rolled ourselves out and to a nearby bar where one of my brother's girlfriends works. There was fun and merriment and far too many shots of tequila.

I woke up Saturday morning to get ready for Will's fourth birthday party with the worst hangover of my life. I couldn't believe how horrible I felt, or that I actually would have drank all the beverages that had been put in front of me. But then I realized -- I'm still young enough to get hung over.

And that made me feel pretty darned good.

Name dropping, BlogHer style

I met Bossy at breakfast.

Had lunch with Jen.

Rubbed elbows (and butts) with Lotus and Maria and roomed with the other half of C².

Had cocktails with Melisa and Weasel Mama and Piper and Momo.

Met Dawn and Stephanie and Maggie.

Got Legos from Jim.

Went out on a ledge with Angie.

Danced my ass off with Karen and Miss and ZoeyJane.

Learned Avitable and Black Hockey Jesus aren't scary in person.

Hugged Melissa and Mrs. 4444 and Red Lotus Mama. I could keep going but you get it already.

My point isn't to make you seethe with jealousy or piss you off with one. more. FREAKIN'. BlogHer. post.

I will elaborate later, but wanted simply to share some of the good juju with those of you who weren't there.

And? I hope, that like I did at this time last year, you decide you're going to be part of the fun in NYC next summer.

Carrie'd away

You may recall I announced a Wisconsin blogger's get together awhile back. The event was to be part of a campaign put together by the lovely ladies at Mom it Forward and would raise money for a great charity that helps Kenyan woman start their own coconut oil extraction business. Those oils are then sold to a company that make them into lotions, soaps and other products.

Besides, it'd be a lot of fun, yo.

I've planned a lot of events, and never have the details fallen into place so easily. It was like putting together a preschooler's jig saw puzzle.

Easy peasy.

One great blogger offered to have the event at her house. Another owns a great online store and donated a gift card for our raffle. Early on, I had a lot of people excited that something local was being planned and looked forward to meeting other "imaginary friends" in person.

But somehow when it came time to collect registrations for the event, the numbers, well...trickled in. In the end, only three of us lovely ladies met for dinner this past Saturday.

Boy, did the rest of you miss out!

Carrie S., Carrie C. and myself (an honorary Carrie for the evening) met at Trattoria Stefano in lovely Sheboygan, Wisconsin and laughed ourselves silly.

It really was a great time. And who would have thought that in a small Wisconsin city, in a teeny little restaurant one could find such GREAT FOOD?!? Honestly, the prices were comparable to that of one of the chain crap restaurants, only Trattoria Stefano featured salads with "organic farm raised Norwegan salmon" and other entres with so many delicious ingredients that our server stood for five minutes at a time reciting them back to us.

(I translated after he left: "A salad with fish, a dish with some meat, and one with noodles, sauce and more meat.")

We sampled the silky and yumma-licious lotions from Basa Body. (And found that despite how delicious it smells, the chocolate mint soap still tastes like soap if you take a bite. Thanks for that, Carrie S.)

And we laughed.

And enjoyed the fact that there were no little short people yelling, "MOOOOOM!"

And then we saw this guy and the night just got *thismuch* better.

Yes, that's a full grown man in a nice restaurant wearing a Snuggie. (Who rocked because he didn't bat an eye when we took his picture. And then told his wife, "You married THIS!" which was super awesome because we all concurred that was something our husbands would say.)

So, big thanks to the Carries for joining me for a super rad evening. Thanks to Basa Body for the lotion and Mom it Forward for organizing such a great chain of events for a great charity. And huge thanks to Angie of Good for the Kids for the raffle prize.

The rest of you -- well, we hope you'll be able to join us next time!

Just a few finishing thoughts:

1) Buying a product from Basa Body or donating $20 to The Pope Foundation (the charity that trains Kenyan women to start their own oil extraction businesses) between now and May 12 enters you to win one of three great gift cards, including a $250 Disney Gift Card, a $150 Amazon.com Gift Card or a $100 Target Gift Card! Click here for more info, or visit the Basa Body site or click on the widget in my left side bar to make a donation. You can still win!

2) If you don't have money to donate right now, check out Mom it Forward's "10 Ways to Donate to Charity Without Spending a Cent" article. Good stuff.

3) If you're ever in Sheboygan, I highly recommend Trattoria Stefano or its "sister restaurant" across the street (owned by the same folks). Their menu was impressive and their prices budget friendly. Plus they let us sit and be all loud for nearly three hours and never once gave us the evil stink eye.

4) Come back on Friday - I'll be giving away some of the Basa Body lotion. And, no, it doesn't smell like coconuts.

Ain't no party like a Cheesehead party

Its late and I'm really really tired, but I want to post about this -- along with the help of some friends, I'm excited to announce that

we're having a Mom It Forward Fundraiser/
Mix 'n' Mingle event in Wisconsin!!!

WHEN: Saturday, April 18, 2009, 7:00 p.m.

WHERE: Carrie's Stuckman's house, Sheboygan, WI

WHAT'S THE CHARITY?

Yehu Microfinance (http://yehu.org/) provides funding for women in Kenya to receive training and support in starting their own coconut oil extraction business. This oil is then sold to BasaBody (http://basabody.com/) and made into skin care items.

WHAT'RE WE DOIN'?

Along with a slew of other events online and off (see the Mom It Forward site for a list) this mixer is just one of many in person get-togethers that will be held across the US, Canada and Australia to raise money for this great charity. (Not near southeast Wisconsin? Check the M.I.F. site for a list of cities hosting events.)

While we mingle, you'll be able to sample the Basa Body's skin care items and purchase them if you'd like. We will also have a few GREAT items we'll be raffling off at the party. All ticket sales from the raffle will go directly to the charity!

PLUS! Donate $20 or purchase a product & you will be entered to win a $250 Disney Gift Card, a $150 Amazon.com Gift Card or a $100 Target Gift Card! (Click here for more info.)

I hope you'll be able to join us -- please email me or leave a comment on this post if you're interested. (Just make sure you include your email address on that comment so that I can send you event details!)

Can't join us? You can still donate and enter the gift card giveaway! There's a lovely little widget in my left sidebar where you can quickly and easily donate money online that will go directly to the charity.

THANK YOU!!!

For more info on the charities involved, or Mom It Forward in general, please read this post.

What has YOUR blog done for YOU lately?

Hey, its Flashback Friday once again! FF's are hosted by moí, and anyone and everyone is welcome to link up! If you wrote a post recently that included a reflection of your past, an old photo (whether it's from 20 years ago or last week), link up, baby!

Check this post for graphics and the rules - they're pretty basic. (Just make sure you use a permalink, huh?)

---

About two months ago, I wrote this post about a song that took me back to my grade school days. I called out an old friend in it and guess what?

SHE EMAILED ME.

She lives in New York City and a friend had Googled her name while writing her bio and found my post. She's a digital technician at a photo studio, and an aspiring fashion photographer.

How freakin' cool is THAT?

So, in the name of all things 1990, here's another little gem of a video for your viewing pleasure. I remember thinking Donnie Walberg was so hot on that motorcycle. Little did I know...I hadn't seen his brother in his skivvies yet!

Why I blog

A new bloggie friend of mine, Rachel, recently wrote about why she blogs.

Now, normally, if people ask me, I say I blog because I need an outlet for the frustrations of every day working mommyhood. And that's not a lie. Sometimes there are days like this that only you other mommies would truly understand.

But if that were truly the only reason, then why would I feel so ecstatic when I get 40 comments on a picture of my son? Why am I so hooked on social networking? Why do I feel near-panic if I'm offline for more than a day at a time?

Another new bloggie friend, the Nap Warden, recently wrote about a crappy comment she received, in which the writer felt "blogging=narcissism." Thankfully, I've yet to receive my first "hate comment" but what I'm going after by mentioning this post is that I guess, to a certain extent, we all need some validation now and again, right? We need that little "yes, you are important enough that other people will read about your life." We all need that little, "yes, your kids are cute and funny and smart." We all need a little, "gawd, I've been there, too!" And there's nothing to be ashamed of in that.

And for me? I guess I need the luhve I get from bloggy land because I'm lonely! Here I am, a thirty-year-old working professional. I work in a big tall building downtown and have my own fancy office. I own a home and am financially very stable. I have a wonderful husband and I've always been blessed with a lot of real life friends. But in reality, there are very few of them that have kids the same ages as mine. And those that do? Well, all this working and mommy-ing and geez...being spouses to our husbands sorta gets in the way of all those girl nights we envision. In those months between one girl-date and another, I need a touch of that happiness that can only come from girlfriends. The giggling, the jokes about inappropriate things, the giving of small gifts called comments to let one another know we are appreciated.

When we became parents nearly four years ago, the Hubster and I made the conscious decision that we would both stay home with our kids, which for those of you who don't know, means we work opposite shifts. We each get a lot of one-on-one time with our kiddos, which is great, but we don't get a lot of time with each other. There are a lot of "passing in the night parking lot" kisses and, uh, that's about it.

Not only is it hard to constantly be without your spouse (giving major props to Army/Navy/Marine wives right now) but its also hard to have to do everything by yourself with two little kids. Don't get me wrong here, I subscribe to the "if you make your expectations known to children, they'll learn how to behave" school of thought, as in, if you take them to church or out to eat regularly, they will be more accustomed as to how they should behave in those places. And my kids are very good. But its still tiring to lug two small kids in and out of stores (and thus, in and out of car seats in between each trip). At the end of the day, arranging a play date with a friend and their kids just seems even more tiring!

So what do I do? I read other blogs and comment. I put my feet up and plurk, or twitter, or check out the scene on Cre8buzz. Its like chatting with friends while your kids play, but without worrying that someone's eating play dough or trying to climb the curtains. And without having to clean the house first.

I might not blog for the deepest of reasons but there my reasons none-the-less. There are plenty of days when I still just need to get a little mommy stress off my chest and others when I just want to share cute pics of my kids with the world.

Why do *you* blog?

Baby-sitter: $30. Gag gifts: $25. Drinking too much with old friends: PRICELESS.

First - I must post my winner from last week's gas card giveaway. Somehow my post announcing the winner on Friday night was saved as a draft and not published, so I apologize! Drum roll, please...SUZIE from Up the Hill Backwards! My dear - email me your address and I'll make sure the place I buy the gift card from is in your area.

Now, on to our regularly scheduled "Moment for Me Monday."

This week's post includes no pictures since I was too drunk busy reminiscing with friends to take them. Forgive me - but it doesn't much matter as they would have been funny to me and not so much anyone else who reads my blog anyway.

We took the family to visit good friends in Green Bay and got a sitter for Saturday night. We almost didn't go - gas is expensive (duh) and well, we were invited to no less than FOUR different parties for various friends and family members for the same day.

But now that we all have kids, we don't get to see this group of people all that often. So it took quite a bit of juggling - but it was sooooo worth it.

We may all have more crow's feet than we used to, and more kids, but when we get together we might as well all be 22 again. Somehow, when you're with good friends you revert back to the true "you" - not the you-who-has-kids-and-can-successfully-juggle-potty-training-and-a-dinner-party, but the you who swigs beer and laughs so hard you nearly pee your pants over something so stupid as a fart joke. (Or a picture of a grown man's poop - not that we really did that.) The you who goes to Spencer's Gifts to buy the birthday boy a mohawk drink hat and thinks its the funniest thing you've ever seen.

Yes, admittedly, we headed home much earlier than we might ever have in the past, but we still went. And I can't wait for the "Hair Bash" in August.

The worst stripper ever

Tammy wrote a post a few weeks back about an experience with a stripper that reminded me of one of my own. Now, I don't say this to appear prudish, but strippers just aren't really my thing. I mean good looking muscular men = good, same good looking muscular men slimed up with oil nearly naked rubbing themselves on every woman in the room for money = eeew.

But I've been at more than one bachelorette party where said slimy naked man was also invited.

A good friend of mine was married in the fall of 2002 and her sister, who was nineteen at the time, planned her bachelorette party. Now, the fact that she was nineteen was only part of the problem - I mean, there are probably very few women in this world that are "stripper experts", right? (Lets hope so.) Anywhoo...she first was unsure of the idea, so she called to reserve the guy (would that be the right word - "reserve"?) a week and a half before the party. And with that sort of notice, the only time he was available was at 6:30 p.m.

Yeah. Big fun.

So, while it was still daylight, we headed to the Bride's Sister's apartment. Someone mentioned that maybe we'd have more fun if we had a few drinks. Only, like I've already said, Bride's Sister was only 19 and didn't have any liquor.

Except one bottle of vodka.

And there was nothing to mix it with.

Someone started to do shots.

I politely said, "No thanks."

Now, I know what it cost just to get the guy to come through the door. Bride's Sister had asked each of us girls in the wedding party to chip in to cover the cost and like a good friend I did. I mean, that's what the Bride had wanted, right? I don't remember specifics now, but I think I pitched in around $40.

So, Sir Stripper gets there with his Boom Box Attendant Man and goes into the bathroom to change. Boom Box Attendant Man (BBAM) tells us to find a chair for the Bride to sit on and we put it in the middle of the room for her.

Now I must tell you, Sir Stripper is about 5'2". Bride is about 5'8" and there are many "tall-ies" in the room, so this clearly wasn't the man Bride's Sister originally ordered. But we decide it doesn't matter. He tells us his name is "Sugar Shane" (I'm not making this up) which sort of makes the whole situation more laughable. But I digress.

By this point, Bride is on the downward side of drunk. She's worked her way up to drunk and has kept drinking, over the precipice of the hill and is on the other side. She is whooping and hollering and yelling things like, "BRING IT ON!!!"

Now, again, Bride's Sister - like almost all of us have been at some point in our lives, let's not judge - was in the "whatever cheap furniture I can find and afford" stage. So the chair we found for the Bride was one of those that didn't have four legs, but sort of looked like a "C" from the side. (See highly artistic depiction of said chair. I don't know what those things are officially called, so I couldn't find it via a Google search. Instead I drew my own.)

BBAM begins to play something like "Pour some sugar on me" and Sir Stripper emerges, writhing and thrusting and the crowd of women start doing that "WHOOOOOO!" thing, waving their arms above their heads like women do when they're drunk and see a stripper. Another good friend and I stand near the back, completely enjoying the humor of the entire spectacle.

Sir Stripper gyrates in front of the Bride, removing clothing until he gets down to the leather g-string he's wearing under whatever the heck costume he originally had on and he's slimy and sweaty, then walks around the circle of chickies, taking random peoples' hands and rubbing them up and down his chest. Gag me.

Then he goes back to face the Bride. He gives her a wry smile, as if to say, "Hmmm...does this smile make you wonder what I'm up to next?" then whirls around, his back to her, and squats down on the floor. In one swift movement, he does a sort of donkey kick, and (the Bride ducking) does a hand stand, then rests his legs on the Bride's shoulders. What a view.

Only a few seconds later, there's a shriek from the Bride and they crumble into a pile on the floor.

ACK! - Gasp! - clutches for invisible pearls - "OH MY GOSH!" - and finally someone rushes in to see if they're OK. Sir Stripper is still laying on top of Bride, and he struggles to get up. Bride's face is red and we're horrified until we see she's laughing.

The chair Bride was sitting on had collapsed; the "C" was now more like a "V" (but sideways - I'm not drawing another picture, you'll just have to close your eyes and imagine it). Sir Stripper apologizes and we laugh, and he goes on with the rest of his routine.

This entire time, money is flying about as if it will start our pocketbooks on fire if it is not spent. When all is said and done, the time is about 7:30 and we're nearly broke and ready for dinner. Sir Stripper goes into the bathroom to change.

A few minutes later, he emerges, looking MUCH better with his clothes on, thank you, and crosses the room to the front door while telling us where he'll be "dancing" later and that we should come and see him.

Before heading out he turns to us, our money making another bulge in his pocket and says, "Can anyone bum a smoke?"

Join me every Friday for Flashback Fridays. Review the rules here.

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Our Anniversary, Jay's Surprise Graduation Party & Weekly Winners

For you visitors looking for my Weekly Winners, I promise you, they're in here somewhere.

Yesterday, May 17th was our five year anniversary and I had a little trick up my sleeve.

You see, my hubby has been working on an Associate's Degree for the past four years. He's worked his butt off for it, too. We both work full time and work different shifts so that one of us is always home with our boys. He's a great father - taking our boys, who are still very young, out to do all sorts of fun things that lots of other Daddies don't take the time to do. He's a great hubby, too - despite our hectic schedules he somehow finds a way to make time for me, too. Oh, and did I mention he's graduating with honors? Yeah...he is. Dean's list the past three semesters and all that. Oh, and he took extra classes - his Associate's is in Criminal Justice (he wants to be a cop) and he attended the police academy at the school to make himself more desirable as an employee (essentially this way the place that hires him won't have to pay him to go through the same training).

He has one last test to take online before midnight tonight (YAY!) and then he officially walks the stage next Thursday. But as I've mentioned before, we're quite the busy family these days. I wasn't sure we'd have time to fit in a party for him, despite how much he truly deserved it.

So I decided that a fifth anniversary wasn't as much of a big deal as his accomplishment, and proceeded to plan a surprise graduation party for the hubster on the one day we had available for a party - our anniversary.

I ♥ Photoshop

I figured the anniversary was the perfect guise - I could easily lure him to the restaurant thinking we were just going out to dinner. Guess what? It worked.

Us

About 40 of our good friends and family were there to yell "surprise" as Jay and I walked through the door.

Instead of a cake, I ordered a sheet-cake sized box filled with of rows of donuts. (Get it? Cops? Donuts?)

Nick stealin' another donut "with 'prinkles"

MMMM!

On the invitation I asked people to bring a gag gift - something inexpensive but that poked fun at being a cop. He got lots of really funny things.

RESPECT MA AUTHORITAY!!!

"I hear pigs LOVE corn!"

This one was X-rated. I'll just tell you it was called "the hole patrol".

He got a few nice gifts, too, including this watch from me and the boys.

So the party was a blast and today we're eating donuts and recovering. I think I could sleep for a week!

Remembering Nathan

I've been hemming and hawing over whether I'd write a post about this.

Part of me feels as though I have no right to examine the situation, feel badly about it or even write about it. Because it didn't happen to me. It happened to people I know and love. That's not to say I don't feel sad, or angry, or injusticed. It just means that I don't feel worthy of writing about the situation because I'm so far removed.

That and because the one person who was hurt most by what happened - the murder of his son - reads my blog on a regular basis. I originally felt that if I wrote about his son, Nathan, that I might do an injustice to his memory, or not cover the facts wholely, or miss a key element. I felt those things because I did not know him as well as I should have.

But to not write about what happened at all is sort of an injustice in and of itself. Nathan was an amazing person and no verdict returned by any jury will ever erase that fact. He touched my life, in whatever small way, so to offer even a small examination of my thoughts on his death and the trial of his killer will only be adding to the great expanse of what is...the whole of the memories of his short life.

Actually, I could fill many blog entries with links to news articles about his death. I could talk at great length about the memories I have of him as a rough and tumble little boy - dirty and sweaty and full of bruises, on his bike alongside my baby brother. I could tell you of the number of times that I, as the big sister, stuffed those bikes into the trunk of my old beater car and drove those boys wherever it was they needed to go. I could tell you that regardless of the fact that I hadn't seen him in years, that he approached me and my young son at the mall one day a few years ago. He was with friends that I didn't recognize, and there I was, a pregnant old lady, in a booth at the food court, wrestling with my 2-year-old, trying to get him to eat. He sauntered up and said, "Hey Smelleen! How are you?" as if I'd seen him just the week before.

But he left this world much too young for me to not mention the way in which he died. He was 20. There was an argument on a hot summer night. He was stabbed, once in the chest. He died there, on the sidewalk.

There was a trial, of course, of the man who'd stabbed him. The jury returned their verdict yesterday. To say it was disappointing is an understatement. There are no words to describe how I felt when I heard that this...guy...would get a max of five years in jail for the loss of such a powerful presence like Nathan. I decided I'd give it a day, before writing about it, but I don't know that I'll ever be able to describe that feeling. I can't imagine what his parents must feel.

So, because I have nothing else to offer on the subject, I'm including below a video, made by one of Nathan's many friends, that includes memories of his life. There are three parts total, equaling roughly 30 minutes. If you watch the one below links to the others should appear at the end.

I truly believe Nathan is in a better place, riding his bike off the jumps in the sky.

God bless you, Nathan. You've left a whole in many hearts.




In an incredible thought of the day, the same baby brother? Today is his 21st birthday. I can only think that Nathan would have probably bought him a beer.

Flashback Friday No. 5 - 1998

Let me first say, if you're reading this, you are invited to join in on these Flashback Fridays. I started this after seeing a lot of people doing similar posts (including Angie, Lotus and Kristen) and thinking they were fun. And therapeutic. If you wrote something this past week that qualifies, link up, baby. You don't have to divulge the deepest, darkest bits of your personal history. Just post a photo of your 12-year-old self and learn to laugh at your crooked bangs.

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So, 1998. Where was I? Oh yeah...moved 120+ miles to a city where I knew no one to be with my boyfriend.

Kids, take a lesson from ol' Auntie Colleen. Not a good idea.

That December evening drive I described in last week's post? Well, it was just before Christmas. And New Year's. And while we both came home to be with family and friends for the holidays, we had no tree. There wasn't anyone baking cookies at our place. It pretty much sucked.

I had enrolled in spring semester classes at UW-Green Bay. But I had no job, so I enlisted with a temp service and worked a few shifts in one of the city's famous paper mills packaging napkins before I decided I could find better work on my own.

Whether the work I found was actually better or not is questionable. First it was a checker and customer service manager in a small Mom & Pop grocery store. (Imagine lots of arguments with senior citizens as to whether or not they received their 10% off the one banana they were buying. Fun.) Then it was a clerk and shift supervisor at Family Video.

Now, I must digress from my flashback to give you the dirt on that job. Family Video. Its for Families, right? I mean, "Family" is the first word of its name.

Family Video had a porn section. A BIG porn section.

I had to inventory that porn.

I had to call customers and ask they return the porn when it wasn't returned on time.

It went a little something like this:

Ring ring!

"Hi! You're reached the Hanson residence. John, Karen, Rachel and Peter can't take your call right now. Please leave us a message and we'll get back to you!"

BEEP!

"Um, hello, Mr. Hanson. This is Colleen from Family Video calling. Forrest Humps is now five days overdue and we need you to return that to our store on Military Avenue right away to keep your account from accruing additional late fees. Thanks and have a great day!"

A-hem. Back to flashback.

There are VERY few pictures from 1998 in my plethora of albums at home. I found a few last night to include in this post and let's just say I didn't look very flattering in any of them. And its my blog so I've decided these anti-flattering shots aren't going in this post. Either that or I left my laptop at home and therefore can't connect to my scanner.

Either way, about the time I worked at Family Porn uh, Video, I finally started to make friends. It was summer. My friends mainly consisted of folks who also worked at that video store and the girlfriends of the guys who worked with my boyfriend.

One such girlfriend worked at the Radisson Hotel. Where the Packers stay the night before a home game. She mentioned that they had a need for front desk clerks. OOH OOH! PICK ME! PICK ME! I applied, had an interview and they did. Pick me, that is.

At $7/hr it was like mucho bucks to be working there. I felt all cool and professional. I met famous people. John Madden, Pat Summerall, Jamie Farr, Gilbert Brown (who had a LOT of late, non-porn videos at Family Video) and Mike Holmgren. I made more friends, many of whom I still love to this day.

But at the time, $7/hr didn't pay a lot of bills. My boyfriend worked looong shifts and I often didn't have anything to do but wait for him to come home. We fought a lot, over stupid things.

I was still an art student that year. My days were spent drawing sketches of nudes and photographing concepts such as "line". That fall, I took my first Journalism class. UW-GB offered a major that combined graphic design and writing and after a "Woo hoo! That's right up my alley!" I signed on before realizing no other UW school had a similar program. But what that did was put me in Journalism 101 at the time of the Clinton/Lewinsky scandal. Day after day we wrote our own obituaries and poured over the latest content in the NY Times, including a timeline of just when the blue dress was believed to have been soiled.

After a long year in the frozen tundra of Green Bay, my boyfriend got an offer to manage a store in southeastern Wisconsin, and took it. We were finally going home!

Just another manic Monday...

Are you singing it now? HA! Got you!

So my worries about my birthday were all for nothing. I do that a lot. Worry about all the people who say they can't make it and forget about all the GREAT friends I have that would be there for me at 4 a.m. on a Tuesday in January if I needed a ride somewhere. The real day was yesterday and it was great. But first things first - Friday night we went out to eat in true Milwaukee fashion, to celebrate with some of our "4 a.m. on Tuesday" friends.

Now, for those of you not from the midwest, Friday night fish fries are BIG here. In case you don't want to read the whole article:

Lotsa German & Polish Immigrants + Catholic Faith (and no meat on Fridays during Lent) + being near a big body of water = Friday Fish Fry

They're so big here that there is a place, the American Serb Hall, that boasts they hold the world's largest fish fry. They even offer a drive through. I know from experience that their drive through is likely to wrap around the block and that a person could just about eat in the dining room in less time than it takes to wait in that looong line.

We went to Don's Pub. They have a great fish fry and operate in a location that's been around since prohibition ended. How's that for history? I sorta feel more cultured, eh, since eatin' there dontcha know.

After lots of fish, steak fries and beer, we went to the ol' neighborhood bowling alley. I haven't bowled in SO LONG.

The bowling alley offered lots of high class libations, such as the Pabst Blue Ribbon and Blatz shown here. Oh, and karaoke. The only thing missing was our old-school bowling shirts. I've always wanted one with "Dottie" embroidered on the front over the left-hand pocket. (Friends - jot that down on your "list of crap to get Colleen" list. I know you have one.)

Oh, and we found our new favorite shot. "Hot Sex in the Butt". Its yummier than it sounds - Hot Sex and butterscotch schnapps.

After our two hours of bowling were up, of course we'd had enough to drink to actually do karaoke.

Here are Steph, me and Emily singing "Manic Monday". There was much more singing after that, but this is the only one I'll own up to.

And yes, I was hung over on Saturday. Because, like, when do I ever drink? And why do I ever think its a good idea to do shots?

The rest of the weekend was nice. Jay worked - Mom came over on Sunday, made dinner and cleaned up afterward. That's just about the best thing ever. Until you get to Monday.

I took the day off work yesterday. Steph took the day off cuz it was President's Day she needed time to be properly thankful for all our presidents. (*snort*) Emily doesn't work on Mondays, she's a beauty operator (that's a hair dresser to the rest of you folks), and the three of us had a girl's day.

I woke up slowly, hung out and snuggled with the fam in bed. Then went in my PJs to Steph's house and Emily gave us both highlights. (I love you, Emily!) I didn't take any pictures of the "after", but trust me, we're cute. We finally got showered (separately - get yer mind outta tha gutta), dressed and got out of the house in time for a late lunch where we stuffed ourselves with sushi. The girls paid as their treat for my bday (love you guys AGAIN). We were so full that we walked around Stein Mart for awhile to walk it all off and they made me try on dresses. Barf. O. Rama. Not dresses in general as much as the dresses they thought I should try. (Yellow? Are you serious?!?)

Then it was off to get pedicures. It may be -40 outside, but damn, I have cute toes! Its just too bad no one will see my feet until May. I got home around 8:00, in time to give Nick hugs and kisses and tuck him in bed and watched I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry with Jay.

And lovely hubby that he is, Jay also got me a car charger/thing-that-lets-you-listen-to-your-iPod-through-your-radio thing for my iPod. Thing. It was the perfect birthday!