2010
New Year’s Eve is a holiday for young lovers and punky kids. There I said it. When you’re doing this adult-with-a-little-family gig it’s hard to get excited about it. Bedtime is still 8:30, though we cut Cee a little slack and let him stay up until 9:15, and that’s the night for you. After that it’s just staring at each other waiting for some meaningless instant in a lifetime of instants to tick by. I tried talking Jay into only celebrating it for the NYC time zone, but he insisted that we remain awake until our time zone reached the peak of the decade.
I kissed him, grumbled, and then rolled over under my heating blanket and hoped for a solid 8 hours of sleep.
Did I mention that I graduated in the year 2000? All through my childhood being part of the Class of 2000 set me and my peers apart as something special. We were the guinea pigs of our generation, being measured and tested more than anyone else because we were the future – the class of the new millennium and that fixed us immortally in some mystical future that even adults could only stand in awe of. Now it means nothing – an instant dissolved by the passing of time – forgotten by the rising group of adolescents who can’t remember Y2K because their bedtimes were 8:30 that night.
I want this to be clear – I’m not longing to return to the drama, insecurities, and hormones of HS. I’m just recognizing one more measure of how adulthood is here to stay. I’m getting old.
At least I’ve [like totally] got an super-cool hubby and a rockin’ awesome doodlebug to pass the time with.
So, around here, New Year’s DAY was the real holiday. Jay didn’t have to work and the whole day was open for adventure. The sad part is that much of the city was NOT open for adventure. We planned to spend the morning strolling through La Villita, but no one was getting up from their hangovers to sell their cute wares that day. Instead we stopped by the Buckhorn Saloon – the oldest saloon in TX with a large museum and curio shop. 
The price of admission made us go:
BUT we made the most of it – playing in the old western town and checking out the trillions of stuffed animals they have on display.
Cee and Jay in jail. Cee didn’t like being in jail which I take as a good sign. We won’t have to have one of those “Better get used to these bars Kid” conversations with him.
Cee – wheel… who didn’t see this coming really? He also wanted to climb all over Bonnie and Clyde’s death car, but I pried him off. The signs all said, No Touching, but I’m sure that was merely a suggestion….
Three Years Down, An Eternity to Go
This week Jay and I celebrate our 3rd anniversary. A lot can change from your wedding day to your subsequent anniversaries. On our wedding day I was the princess with special treatment at every turn. I had my own, beautifully ornate, prep room in which to get dolled up…
But this week this little bug stole my chair.
Back then I had hours set aside to get my hair professionally done. This week I scrambled to do my own hair during a down-to-the-wire nap time.
Back then I was the star of the show. 
Yesterday, this guy was the star of the show.
(We saw Avatar in 3D as part of our date. It was pretty rad.)
Yes, everything revolved around us back then. 
Yesterday everything revolved around finding a sitter at the last minute since our friend/sitter’s kid was sick. Thanks to the wonderful family who stepped in at the last minute to save our evening.
One thing didn’t change though and that was us.
I’m so glad to have had these three years with my best friend.
Been a Little Busy…
To all my faithful readers and recipe checkers, I want to say sorry for last week.
I was downright lazy.
It’s hard finding lots of extra time during the holiday season for writing, but I’ve also been pretty occupied with this:
This may very well be our first, real, now-we-can’t-pretend-to-not-be-adults-anymore home. We found it on a Saturday, made an appointment to go over paper work the following Thursday, then spent every waking moment we had checking every other neightbohood, tax rate, and area we’d been considering to find out if we really were getting the amazing deal we thought we’d found.
It really was that amazing, and if everything goes according to plan, this lovely house will be ours in a month.
No more smoke from the neighbors leaking under my front door. No more cheap and drafty windows. No more walls rattling from the neighbor’s shower or late night Rock Band tournaments. A Yard for Cee. A garage. A kitchen that’s big enough to waltz in.
So, maybe we’re just a little bit excited.
This is going to be a long month.
One Girl’s Workout, Another’s Joke
This morning my friend, the Trainer Momma, put up an old-school jazzercise video on her blog. It was meant as a joke, the bad 80′s hair and outfits, the bizarro “dance” moves. It’s pretty funny.
Funny, but also very very real.
My mom owned this Jazzercise tape. This very one. We dressed in our 80′s gear – me in a tumbling unitard and side ponytail, mom in an over sized t-shirt with a plastic ring tying it off to one side.
And we jazzercised. We shook our hips, we raised our arms, we rotated our pelvises, and we bounced our knees.
It made me feel like a big girl somehow – girls play, but women jazzercise.
I should also mention that I thought that the brunette on the right in the video was beautiful and I wanted to be like her when I grew up. I now note that she’s sporting a mullet – sure it’s a very full, very bouncy mullet, but a mullet all the same.
I’m glad that times have changed.
My favorite part in the workout was the opening credits when the group of ladies jazzercise past a couple of elephants who also shake it.
However, I was scared of both the segments that featured men as both men had facial hair (something that I did not trust at all as a girl) and since their legs seemed to move independently from their bodies.
Rockin’ Out Christmas Style
On Saturday night was the much awaited work Christmas party. I say much awaited, because I’ve been looking forward to this for months – the company rented the entire Alamodome:
They had for us guests (all 12,000 of us) a huge dinner, desserts galore (including a fudge stand from Rocky Mt. Chocolate Co.), casino games , dancers, gymnasts, singers, a mentalist, a fake snow storm when you entered the party…
Check this out – it’s only half of the whole banquet (it’s kind of funny to look out over such a formal dinner then look up to see a sport’s arena).
Oh, and did I mention that a little group called REO Speedwagon was there?
Right before we took this picture the lead singer said, “Our manager told us that we’d be going to San Antonio to do a Private Engagement – renting out the Alamodome, now that’s what I call a private engagement!” That got us all crazy!
Jay took my pic, I took his, and then a wanna be groupie (I say that cuz I saw her bear hugging the sound/guitar-storage guy off stage) took a pic of both of us.
Memorable Moments of the night:
- Slow dancing to I Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore right at the edge of the stage.
- REO played one of their Christmas songs for the very first time live. It’s funny to hear a 70′s rock band singing about blue birds and being married by a snowman.
- Having to hold our chests so they wouldn’t explode from the bass.
- “What do they mean additional food – ah quesadillas and bean dip – this company sure knows how to feed people.”
- Having a punk 12 year old beat the pants off of us at (fake money) blackjack.
- Seeing the mentalist decipher peoples thoughts just with their body language.
- The theme was All that Glitters, so the women were decked out in shine – I loved seeing all of the outfits (though I could have done without some of the nasty-immodest ones).
The Award We All Win: Worst Mom of the Year
It’s a feeling all Moms share, a crown that all of us wear from time to time.
We feel this burden of guilt bearing down on our shoulders like a personally hand-crafted rhinoceros.
- A little finger gets pinched in a door – I’m the worst Mom EVER!
- Needing a break and letting the TV be the in-house babysitter for a little too long – I’m the worst Mom EVER!
- We lose our cool a little too fast and react to a little person with our BIG emotions – I’m the worst Mom EVER!
- Along those same lines, we might slip and use one of those words that we should never use around little ears – I’m the worst Mom EVER!
- A fever goes unnoticed because we’re busy making dinner and feel just as hot as any fever– I’m the worst Mom EVER!
- Our kids act out in some dreadful way in public, leading us to fear the judgments of other shoppers, tourists, and people that don’t have kids yet so they couldn’t possibly understand that they really are good kids but they’re just 1) tired, 2) hungry, 3) over-stimulated, 4) teething, 5) in a stage where they need to learn about boundaries, etc – I’m the worst Mom EVER!
I think it important to say to Mothers everywhere that these feelings are just as normal and natural as the pains of childbirth that got you into this situation in the first place. I think that the trouble lies in the isolating impression that we’re the only one making mistakes and holding onto that rhinoceros sized guilt longer than necessary because of it.
Don’t do it.
We’ve all been there, we’ve all felt this, and the great news is that this crown is one that YOU take off. Let the moment go, evaluate how to handle things in the future, throw that crown in the trash because it isn’t true, and pour out your love on your kids.
From one Worst Mom to all others – we really aren’t so bad. : )
The First Kiss that Changed the World
I’ve already told a story or two about the early days in our courtship, but as this weekend marks both Jay’s birthday and the anniversary of our first kiss, I thought it would be a good time to tell this story.
Signals had been flying over the past week and I was going to burst. After almost an entire semester of flirting, then seeing him with someone else, having a deep/personal conversation then not seeing him for days, we were finally getting somewhere.
- He took me on a date for his free birthday lunch at one of my favorite restaurants (which I thought was going to be a group/friend thing, but he just took me and paid for my meal when his was free).
- He put his arm around me in the car.
- He held my hand at Harry Potter 4.
But Jay’s uncle came to town the weekend of his birthday, and for a day or so there wasn’t any contact between us.
We had been on a roll, a roll that I liked very much - each time we were together we acted more enamored, more interested, more touchy…
I really wanted that roll to keep going.
I hatched a plan to pop over to his apartment right at midnight so that I could be the first person to wish him a happy birthday, and to give him a little present. We weren’t bf/gf yet, so I just made a little box that was part of an inside joke with us and filled it with candy (Jay still has that box to this day – it’s filled with things from our dating days, ticket stubs, programs, etc.). It was sweet, but not too overbearing (I didn’t want to ruin things by sending out creeper vibes).
Jay seemed surprised to see me, but happy too. We just talked for a moment, since he mentioned having to get up at 4:30 to take his uncle to the airport in the morning. Much to my surprise he asked me if I’d like to go along for the ride.
Sleep, Boy, Sleep, Boy…. hmm. Two very important things to the average college age female. My deliberations only took a moment though – I figured that I had the rest of my life to sleep, but being along with Jay in a car for an hour drive only came along once in a lifetime (back then).
I told him that I’d LOVE a two hour car ride before the sun came up, and rushed home to get a [very] little bit of shut eye.
I’m sure that Jay slept like a log for those 4 hours. I contemplated taking a shower, doing my hair, if my pajamas were cute enough…. In the end, I think I didn’t want to come off as fake, so I just wrapped up in my red-plaid-teddy-bear blanket (no joke) and slumped into the backseat of his car.
You should never be fake in relationships. That’s the key to success.
On the drive to the airport, I snoozed a little in the back of the car. Jay wanted to talk personally with his uncle and I didn’t want to push myself into it. I did eavesdrop a little though when the uncle asked about girls – Jay said that he wanted to date, but that he wouldn’t get married before graduating unless he found the right girl.
Who would have thought the tattered little thing in the backseat would have been her?
After Uncle took off for his flight, I came up to sit in the front by Jay. His car was an old lady’s Buick (quite literally, it was a hand-me-down from Grandma G), which came fully equipped for a strapping young bachelor – a bench front seat. Jay stretched his arm out across the seat and offered me his shoulder to crash on, which I accepted delightedly.
We drove the hour back home like that. Yes, I did think of my mom and dad’s warnings about girlfriends who sit in the middle, then get in accidents and have the rear view mirror lodged in their heads, but I took the risk – it was JAY’s shoulder after all and at least I would have died happy.
Taking our exit off of the freeway the sun just began to crest over the mountains. The morning frost glistened in the perfect silence of a lazy Sunday morning. We were alone on the streets of our town.
Bending onto my road, I was sad to see my apt coming into view, but as we approached my driveway Jay swung to the left instead of the right and parked in the empty University A lot that we used for visitors on weekends. I thought he wanted to park and walk me to my door, but the engine stayed running, as Jay shifted to hold me tight.
I honestly cannot remember if we even said a word that morning. What I do know is that Jay was sporting his sloppy-look complete with a nerd’s hat (no joke, it said Atari on it) covering his uncombed (possibly unwashed?) hair.
With my head on his shoulder, he bent down and grazed my forehead with his lips.
I froze – a test, was that a test of the waters? How do I act interested without loosing my cool?
I remained still in that same position. Dead-frozen, like a kissing possum just in case there was some mistake.
Then, timidly, a second kiss was placed on my cheek, but dangerously close to my lips. The brim of his hat collided with my temple and I wondered, Was he trying to kiss me, but didn’t make it ‘cuz of the hat?
Stupid hat. Stupid, stupid, blocking hat.
With boldness that is NOT like me at all, I twisted around, grabbed onto the brim of that hat and gave it a heave into the backseat.
Jay smiled, nothing to misinterpret there, leaned over and kissed me for real.
I was dumbfounded by how perfect it was – not an awkward lip bump like so many first kisses when you’re not really sure of the other person. It was sincere, it was heart felt, and it lasted a good little while. ; ) wink wink.
The last part of the story (that I know if I don’t write out, Betty will jump on the comments section and add it) was that after it was time to go home I said goodbye to Jay, walked through our apt, passed another roommie who accused me right off the bat of having been freshly kissed, walked into the room we shared, then did a flying human-blanket onto Betty’s sleeping body screaming, “He KISSED me!”
As early as it was for a Sunday, she didn’t even complain. Talk about a great roommate.
There’s a lot more story to tell – not all of it as perfect as this little fair tale, but all of it goes back to that day. It’s been 4 years since the kiss that changed the world – four years and the kisses have only gotten better, the mornings have occasionally gotten even earlier, but the magic of each moment together is just as strong.
I love you Honey, happy birthday and happy kiss-aversary!
That’s Button-tastic!
Over the weekend, Jay and I went high-tech and figured out how to make website buttons. I’m pretty proud of these cuties and would be honored to see them out and about in the blog-o-sphere.
Just a Mom? HA! links back to my homepage.
I’m an AVERAGE PANTRY GOURMET links back to my recipes page.
To grab the button, copy and paste the code beneath onto an HTML sidebar widget on your own blog. Anyone with my button(s) on their blog will receive extra entries in the Belleza Mia GIVEAWAY!
Thanks for the support and Happy Monday!
Answering the Question: Are SAHMs Lazy?
One of the great wonders of the blogging sphere that I’ve joined is Google Analytics. They have the power to tell me how many people check this site, where they’re checking from, what they’re reading, and more.
It makes me feel like a spy, even sitting here in my fuzzy pink pajamas, and I like that. : )
About a week ago I noticed that someone out there found their way to this website by searching the question: Are stay-at-home-moms lazy? I found the idea of the question intriguing, and wondered what type of person it was asking this whopper-of-an-essay-question of my humble little website:
- Was it a woman who has now found herself pregnant and is wondering if staying home is the choice for her?
- Was it a man looking for a way to tell his wife that he feels she should go back to work?
- Was it just pure silliness?
I don’t know – unfortunately Google can’t go quite as far as telling you the searcher’s motivation, but to you, dear question asker, I’m going to tackle this question head-on.
Some are and some aren’t.
Choosing to stay at home these days really is a job choice for women. We have rights and protection in the work force, that makes us eligable for any job (a right that I am most grateful for), so when we stay home, it is essentially a career move. And, like with any job, you can’t generalize all of the workers – some are lazy and some are not in any field.
Did anyone else see that news article earlier in the year about the luggage handler that fell asleep in a cargo hold and was flown from NYC to Boston? That’s pretty lazy, but calling all baggage handlers lazy because of it wouldn’t be fair to those who do somehow get my bags from Santa Cruz Bolivia, to Miami, to San Francisco, to Portland.
Some SAHMs are probably lazy out there. They watch their soap operas, eat their bon-bons, and do whatever else is stereotypical of that particular lazy-mom image. That is their choice, and I would add that it’s a harmful one for both her and the family for which she is responsible.
Hard-working SAHMs are committed to child-rearing, to their home, and their husband’s well-being. They are on the move from morning till night making a home that is comfortable, friendly, educational, loving, tidy, and nurturing. Certainly, if you hired out people to take over all of her responsibilities to home and family you wouldn’t call them lazy – you might even find yourself giving them a big fat tip.
That being said, even the best of us (I’m not putting myself in that elite group, as I am quite flawed) have the occasional lazy day. That shouldn’t, however, overshadow all of her normal productivity. I remember when I was working, sometimes so many unexpected things would arise that at the end of the 8-hour day, I’d look at my agenda and think, “Did I accomplish anything today?” The unexpected happens a lot when your work environment is dictated by persons who aren’t toilet trained, who fall sick quite easily, and who’s attitudes and opinions change day to day and sometimes moment to moment.
Keep in mind that all of this happens without pause, break, sick days, weekends, or paid vacations. Choosing to stay home is everyday, period.
Now, I know that this can be a touchy subject, and I don’t want to make enemies of the working moms out there who put in their 8 (or more) hours at the office and still feel the burden of the SAHM’s workload too. I can see how the argument can be made that because we SAHMs aren’t putting in those 8 hours on top of everything else that we must be lazy. I would counter that argument simply by saying that we spend those 8 hours doing the things that others have to hire out, i.e. day-care and take-out, replacing the time we spend with children and the effort we put into nutritious and budgeted meals. We use that time wisely, so at the end of the day we can be relaxed and pleasant companions to our husbands – another important role of the SAHM and an added perk for him who puts in the long hours to support us financially.
Being a hard-working SAHM is about choosing to fully commit oneself to the support, nurture, and care of home and family. Lazy people are lazy, hardworking people are hard-working, where the work (or lack thereof) takes place is simply a matter of choice, priority, or circumstance.
Dullify Dinner Conversation Starters
The other night, Jay, Cee and I sat in relative silence as we ate dinner.
Gobble gobble, grub grub (then some banter about the day).
Gobble gobble, chew chew, snarf (then some laughing about the funny snarf sound that Cee just did).
It got me thinking about those classic dinner conversation starters that many companies put on salad dressing bottles or ketchup packets to help break the ice and create conversation at the table.
Only, after being together for over 3 years, I know exactly what Jay would say to each and every one of those questions, how boring huh?
BORING, that’s it!
The game is – take some of the classics, but change them just enough to be boring. As dull as that sounds, it ends up making for some fun banter.
I asked Jay if he had to pick one vial and detested animal to be (no majestic eagles, tigers, or lovable dolphins), which would be chose?
Jay went with a snake, but I chose a cockroach since they can survive nuclear fallout.
Some of the other questions we used:
1 – If you could have a super power, but only over some mundane daily acitivy (no flying, invisibility, mind reading, etc) what would it be?
Jay’s answer was power over commuting – a blink of the eye and he’d be at work. That got me really excited because then we could live in Hawaii, but then he reminded me at even with his dull power we couldn’t afford to live in Hawaii. Bummer.
I had a hard time deciding between power over dishes, laundry, or diaper changes. In the end I went with dishes since it’s my least favorite chore and because it has to be done EVERY day whereas laundry is just a couple times and week and eventually diapers will be phased out of our family anyway.
2- Where is the one place in the world you really wouldn’t want to travel? (After discussing war zones, we reworded the question to exclude them).
I said Russia because it’s too cold to enjoy yourself and the language is super difficult.
3 – What is your least favorite color?
Jay said pink, but I bugged him about never again seeing my cheeks blush, or seeing a pink flower, or a pink sunset, so he changed his mind and went with hot pink….
But I think that was just to humor me, I think he really would be glad to be done with all pink (what a manly-man, I can’t WAIT till we have a girl – she’s gonna be pink-tastic!)
I said neon-highlighter yellow. Don’t get me wrong, yellow is a great color, there’s just something about the highlighter yellow that rubs me the wrong way (maybe I’m still bitter about getting a C in freshman Zoology after studying my can off).
Feel free to try these and your own at dinner tonight. I’d love to hear your questions and responses. : )
