Qualified

Have you ever noticed that people LOVE to give advice? They give advice when they are asked. They give advice when they are not. The tell people what they would do if it was THEIR child rolling around the floor at Gymboree, or how they feel about pacifiers, thumb sucking, co-sleeping, losing weight, drinking Pepsi, or VBACs. I am one of those people who loves to give my opinion. My dad has an old saying, "Opinions are like Butt-Holes...everyone has one and they ALL stink." My dad is wiser than I gave him credit for. Originally I thought I was "Qualified" to give my opinion on most things. I do a great deal of research. Most decisions I make have been thoroughly studied and thought-through. I have a degree in Psychology. I minored in Family Studies, focusing mainly on Child Development. I know nothing of Politics and don't claim to. I love the Internet and when I say something dumb I typically check up on the dumb thing I said so I can either learn from it, or beat myself up about being wrong in the first place. All in all, I think I am pretty sharp. I say dumb crap once in a while, and my memory sucks so I get information wrong from time to time. At the end of the day though, it doesn't matter. Nobody wants my opinion, or they would ask it. They don't give a crap about how many people have a uterine rupture with a VBAC, or the amount of Caffeine March of Dimes says is okay to drink during pregnancy. They most likely think I am making my information up, or that I am snotty for imposing my information on them. If they wanted to know these answers they would ask a Gynecologist. The reason I even bother to mention this is that I realized today that I HATE getting advice from people. It has taken me 28 years to figure out who I am. So how can someone claim to have an edge on my life after knowing me for seven months. Even if you really know me, you only know the side of me I show you. I can say the same for you. I could point my finger at you, at your lifestyle, at your parenting, at your marriage, at who you claim to be from what I see. But is that fair? Does what I see adequately represent what you are? Is what you see when you look at my life how it really is? Next time I think to give my advice I will refrain. I will hold my tongue. I will try and realize that there are proffessionals in this world who could give qualified advice and that I am not one of them.

My Day at the "SPA"

For my birthday this year my husband asked the gals at work what he should get me and they suggested a day at the spa. My husband knew instantly that this would be perfect. Yesterday was THE day. I arrived at the Spa feeling a little out of place in my sweatshirt and jeans. The woman coming out of the door when I was entering had ATLEAST a full carat and a half of diamonds on her ring finger. First stop was the facial. I met a very friendly and Spa-like lady who took me to a room, told me to undress and wrap this towel thing around me and climb into this Gernie and then left the room. I looked at this very small towel thing thinking...how and where in the HELL is this supposed to go. I opted to keep the bra ON and wrapped the miniature towel around my waist like a hula skirt. Knock knock went the door. Before I had a chance to protest that I wasn't under the blanket on the Gernie, the Esthetician walked in. She took one look at the giant pregnant belly and the hula-skirt bra ensamble and began to laugh. Apperantly it was supposed to go under the armpits and cover the bra. Woops. How does one come back from that and enjoy a facial? Once the laughter died down I let the pasty mud on my face soothe my humiliation as well as my face. The lady proceeded to tell me that I have one of the driest faces she has ever seen. Thanks. She added that the lines and wrinkles that are surrounding my eyes are due to skin starvation and not to aging. Thanks again. It is surprising to me that ANY part of me could be starving. She listed off the many products she was going to give me. Finally, something for free I thought. She excitedly shows me my new face with an amplifying mirror. Eew, if I am this hidious now, imagine how I was BEFORE the facial. I NEVER want to see my face that close up ever again. When the facial was done I got to go to the massage. More nudity and Gernies. More nature music and more hippies rubbing my body. This time add a body pillow. You would think THIS would be relaxing, unfortunately I am slightly uncomfortable with ANY physical contact. I know, with three kids how uncomfortable could I really be, but I am one of those people who will stare at a crying person rather than hug them. Alan likes to call me Frigid, but I prefer the word awkward. The massage felt nice, but the entire time I was thinking..."Damn I haven't shaved my legs for a week and a half...I wonder if I am going to be allergic to this massage lotion...I bet I am the fattest, poorest person she has ever massaged...What am I supposed to do with this arm...Do you think they washed this body pillow after the last pregnant woman used it? How much am I supposed to tip each of these ladies?" Halfway through the massage, the therapist turned off what little lighting there was in the the room. That answers the question about being the fattest person ever...she can't even stand to look at the appendage she is massaging. Nice. Fifteen long, embarassing minutes later I heard the sweetest words I have ever heard. "You can go ahead and get your clothes back on and come out when you are done." At this point I have gone an hour and a half without speaking, mostly naked, getting touched by strangers I am paying. I have a new definition of hell. It is a place of quiet nudity where lights are dimmed, candles are lit and people are touching me. There is seriously something wrong with me. Most people enojoy crap like that. I wrapped my day up with the Manicure/Pedicure which I can say nothing bad about. It was awesome. I went to pay my balance, leave my tips and pick up the crap the esthetician took up front for me, I love free stuff. The free stuff came to a total of $300 and the tips came to $27. I passed on the free stuff and left with what dignity I could muster. I may have starving wrinkly skin, and a fat gooey body, but my nails look spectacular. Thanks Alan for the birthday gift.

Warts VS Acne

At my most recent Doctor's appointment I received some unsettling news. I went in to have some cancer looking thingies on my face looked at. I can only imagine the perimeters they were going to need to cut out to remove the cancer from my face. I was informed that it was not cancer, but that I had sprouted multiple warts on my chin and one on my temple. It was unsettling, but hysterical at the same time. I decided not to hide my deplorable warts, but to announce them openly...maybe I could get a laugh as well as looks of disgust. I called my sister immediately! Her response was "I will never complain about getting acne again. I will thank my lucky stars it isn't warts." I was a little surprised. I have seen some serious acne. Could five...or six warts be that much grosser than acne? Later that day I told a friend about the warts. She told me that I would be better off to lie to people and say they were zits. I decided to do a little research and see which is really grosser, Warts or Acne. This is what I have discovered from dictionary.com... A wart is: a small, often hard, abnormal elevation on the skin, usually caused by a papomavirus. Acne is:an inflammatory disease of the sebaceous glands, characterized by comedones and pimples, esp. on the face, back, and chest, and, in severe cases, by cysts and nodules resulting in scarring. So I pose a question. Which is worse, six warts that you can have burned off your face immediately, or acne on your face, neck and back? I choose the warts (Not that I really had a choice). I may look like Elpheba, or Nanny McPhee, but by golly they were gone in one doctor's visit. Lets hope we don't get that papomavirus again.

East Coast Disease

Who gives a crap about the festive beauty of late Fall? The leaves have fallen, the birds have high-tailed it out of here, and pretty much the only things stupid enough to still be in New York are the people, the Squirrels and the Rabbits. I mention the animals because their carcasses are strewn across every road you drive down. It is freezing cold here. I am wishing I had followed the examples of the birds and headed south. The cold sucks, but it's not just that... It is the freaking illness occuring here. I would go to my good friend's house, but one of her kids has pink eye, and the other has an ear infection. I wait a week...one of her kids has strep and the other has inherited the pink eye from their sibling. I call another friend...."Sorry, but my kid just threw up all over and I can't talk right now." Scratch that person off my list. I try to arrange a lunch for a bunch of gals, we put jackets on our kids and haul them to Chili's. During my first bowl of soup one of the gals kid pukes on the table, then again on the way to the Chili's bathroom. I will never eat Chicken Enchilada soup again...well that's a bloody lie, but the first time after the incident I only was only able to eat one bowl of it. What a disappointment. My son has been as healthy as a horse over the past four years. He has not had a SINGLE illness to send us to a doctor's office in FOUR years. This was in New Mexico, the grimiest place we have ever lived. Last month he got Strep Throat. Today he has an Ear Infection. What's next, Hand-Foot-and Mouth disease? How can a state be so eco-friendly and green, and yet so thoroughly contaminated with illness? Looks like it's going to be a long, antibioti-filled winter.

3's Tag

3 JOYS: My children, Twilight Series, Fudge

3 Fears: It is so hard to narrow it down....: Perverts, Airplanes, Cockroaches

3 Goals: To not completely traumatize my children by the time they are adults, To someday be a size 12, and to be able to jump on a trampoline and not pee my pants!~

3 Obsessions: The Twilight Series, The Children's Place, Did I mention Fudge?

3 Random Facts: I know enough Spanish and sign language to communicate slowly with Spanish speaking or deaf people. I just learned the story of Abinidi from my Four-year old this week, I HATE moderation.

Twi-Hard

I am ashamed to admit it, but I am a Twi-hard. For those of you who don't have the mentality of a fourteen year old or youger, that means I am in love with Twilight. I am by far the nerdiest housewife EVER! When i get together for play group at the park with women from church I just sit there, quiet. I have nothing to say. I have nothing in common with these women aside from having children who like the park and sharing a religion. Then...one of these women who I care nothing about will say the name Jacob Black. Boom...they are my new best friend. I don't care if you walk on all fours and have slobber dripping down your face, if you are a friend of Twilight you are a friend of mine. I have never been so angry online than when a man made a derogative comment about Twilight on my brother's blog. I was ready to jump into cyber space and kick his cyber ass. So the question is...WHAT IS MY PROBLEM? The answer to that is NOTHING. I am perfect. Maybe not as perfect as my sweet Edward. There is no difference between loving Twilight and Loving Pride and Prejudice. Chicks are just cheesey, hopeless romantics and as long as we don't expect our frumpy human husbands to be as perfect as a vampire or as fun as a werewolve, what is the problem? by the way. I'm Team EDWARD!

4th of July Barbeque

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who would have thought that chicken could bring people together?! Have you ever noticed that when there is good food around, people feel comfortable? You could take two incredibly hostile neighbors and put them together in a room full of food and for that twenty minutes they were scarfing down food you would think they were best friends. Granted as soon as their bellies are full you can feel the hatred exuding instanteously. This same phenomenom occurred at the 4th of July barbeque yesterday. People who are usually nowhere to be seen came out of the woodwork and had a very pleasant time. As a bystander this is really fun to watch. Our 4th of July barbeque was very fun. I even got to see my friend Jessica get a piece of Ice put down her shorts. I personally would feel safer petting a ravenous bear, but someone out there has more cajones than I do. And thank heavens, because I caught her reaction to the ice with my camera. Priceless.

Stupid Add Picture Feature

Lowering my standards

Having left my sweet mother earth and moved to an alien world...aka New York, I have become emotionally as well as physically distanced from the people I love most. Having had this mentioned to me I decided to go against my better judgment and create a blog. Thank you very much Sister. We are adjusting to New York life quicker than in any of the places we have lived. My little dude keeps telling me he wants to live in New York forever. He has more friends than he has anywhere previously. He misses his Gucci tremendously, and mentions her constantly. I have four or five great friends. The friends I spend the most time with are Paula (a sweet gal from Argentina who is married to a Pathology Resident) and Jessica (a native New Yorker who is married to an Anesthesiologist Resident). They are polar opposites and each one brings out different characteristics in me. We recently went to the strangest Circus together. The children had a fantastic time, except for during the modern dance piece where the dancers wore none other than mummy costumes. The only way to make modern dance any weirder. We had a great time. It made Circus Shamira look like Cirque de Solei (or however you spell it).