Hi-Ho-Hi-Ho..It's Off to the Gyno I Go!

Ugh.

The yearly exam.

The poking.

The prodding.

The Pap.

I have to be honest. I skipped out on my last year's appointment and that is very unlike me. I know, I know...shame on me. But ever since my husband got 'snipped', my reasons for going to the gynecologist have been put on the back burner. Ok, so I need to get back in for the yearly cell scraping of my uterine wall and boob massage. Doesn't that sound like fun?

Preparing for this yearly venture is a task of it's own. I feel like I'm getting ready for a porn shoot the night before my appointment-- Haha, 'Saturday Night Beaver'. But seriously, I make sure my nether regions are primped and manicured and fresh before my appointment. And as I prepare for my ' yearly prom date', I start to think about how my appointment will go from beginning to end:

3:15- Walk into doctor's office, sign in, update my insurance information hand over my $20 co-pay

3:20- Sit down and survey the waiting room. The usual cast of characters will be there: the screaming kid rolling on the floor while mom ignores him, the teenager wanting to get on the pill, the chick with the cellphone that insists on talking loud enough so that everyone knows her 'baby daddy' is a cheating asshole, the overweight lady with the 7-11 Thirst Buster cup wearing a red "Sexy Bitch" tank top that is 5 sizes too small and dirty flip-flops (who is also pregnant and can't tell), and the 89 year old lady that doesn't hear her name when they call her for the umpteenth time.

3:30- My appointment is supposed to be at 3:30, but they won't call me until 3:50

3:50- The medical assistant will call my name and of course mispronounce it

3:51- The dreaded scale will await me. I will take off everything I can,even my earrings and I'll look the other way as she scales the weight 'thingy' back and forth on the professional, piece of crap scale. I will cringe and not want to know the result

3:55- Blood pressure will be taken and then I'll be asked to pee in a cup

3:56- I will have saved all my pee from drinking the gallon of ice tea I had on my way to the appointment

3:57- Stage fright. I'll think of warm beer

3:58- I'll pee and miss the cup

3:59- I'll try again and I'll manufacture enough pee to serve a Brownie troop refreshments for a month

4:00- I'll walk my warm pee to my examing room and set it on the the counter

4:05- The medical assistant will walk in and tell me to disrobe, tell me to place the paper top on
backward and pull the paper sheet over my legs

4:10- I'll place all my clothes carefully on the chair and hide my thong (I'll normally do this when I'm not wearing cute ones), pull on the gynecological couture and sit on the crinkly paper and wait

4:13- I'll text my friends and makes jokes about where I'm at

4;15- I'll think to myself that most of my time is spent waiting--the exam itself really only takes 15 minutes

4:16- I'll look at the stirrups (the metal things connected to the chair that you place your feet in) I'll think how considerate they were to cover them with a soft 'oven-mitt' type of material so that my feet won't be cold

4:17- I'll look at the posters on the wall about the different parts of the vagina and think about how many vaginas my doctor sees. Does it phase her? Does she look at vaginas and think about how ugly they are? I start to imagine the different smells she must put up with. Does she go home and talk shop over dinner? As she's eating her roast beef dinner, does she say, "Oh honey..this reminds me of a woman I had in today..her labias were gargantuan!"

4:20- I'll start to fidget and wonder if I should put my stilletos back on to elongate my legs while they're in the stirrups. I'll look at my thighs as they peek out from under the paper blanket and think about how thick they look then become instantly depressed

4:30- I'll start to notice how cold it is and how my nipples could cut glass. I don't want her to think this exam is turning me on, so i try to massage them back in

4:35- I'll find a dumb magazine like "Quilt Making Made Easy" and try to pass time

4:45- The doctor will come in with her nurse practioner and ask me the first day of my last period. I never know, so I usually lie.

4:50- The doctor will look at my chart, make small talk, ask me about what I did during the summer, how work is going and start to examine my breasts as we continue to talk about traffic and the housing market in Phoenix. Her hands will be cold and I'll pray she doesn't find anything unusual

4:55- She'll tell me to scoot down a bit, so that my butt is right at the edge of the examining chair. My vag will be close enough for her to see my tonsils. She'll tell me to relax as I place my feet in the stirrups and let my knees fall to the wayside. The nurse will stand there and observe as if she is watching the doctor carve a turkey for a family of 12

4:56- I'll be relieved that I didn't take a dump before my exam. I wouldn't want to show up with poo residue

4:57- The doctor will douse the speculum (it looks like a metal duck) with enough lubricant (for Phoenix and the surrounding cities to play slip & slide) and place that bad boy in my birth cannon and crank that sucker wide open to scrape out some lovely cells for examination

5:00- She'll take the 'car jack' out of my vagina and then tell me that she'll be doing a quick anal exam as well. One in the pink wasn't good enough for her- now we go to one in the stink. Not fun..but again, glad I didn't drop a deuce before the exam

5:05- She'll tell me everything looks good, pat me on my shoulder and send me on my way..and there I will lay..a lubricated mess, with nothing but my paper ensemble

5:10- I'll get dressed, walk out & into the waiting room past all the characters waiting to be seen. Each one of them will know that I was just penetrated by metal and fingers

5:15- I'll get into my car, thankful that it's over and immediately start dreading next year

Why is this such a chore? Why do I make this so much worse than it really is?

I need to stop being a whiner and be grateful.

Yes, be grateful for the top-notch medical care that's available to us in this country; let alone, the services that are available to us as women.

In other countries, women aren't so lucky.

In America, we don't realize how good we have it.

So~ I'll stop being a little, whiny bitch...

until next August.

:)

An Open Letter to My Boobs...

Dear Boobs,

I remember when you first popped into my life. I was 11 years old. It was a brisk fall day and my mother made me stand under a cherry blossom tree to take a picture wearing a tight, cream turtleneck sweater. When she developed the pictures, there you were..poking out in broad daylight, like aspirins on an ironing board. I refused to accept that you were going to be a part of my life.

When my Wonder Woman Underoos weren't doing the job anymore, I started to wear tight tank tops under my shirts to conceal you. I wanted to hide you from the world because I wasn't quite ready to advance into 'womanhood'. My grandmother would refer to you as 'mosquito bites'. All the other girls I knew were already wearing bras and the boys would joke about "Over the Shoulder Boulder Holders". I didn't want any of that attention, but you didn't listen. Noooo... you just insisted on growing and forced me into the teen bra section at Sears- damn you.

But over time, my resentment of you started to fade away. It was hard being in junior high and seeing 'Tina' with the biggest blouse bunnies one could ever imagine...in the 8th grade. (Everyone has a 'Tina' in school--that one overdeveloped girl in their class that the boys flock to.)

As I started to take an interest in boys, your interest in growing seemed to be put on the back burner. You just couldn't make up your mind. You started to frustrate me and I took it personal. It was like you were paying me back for being such a bitch to you when you made your first appearance under that cherry blossom tree.

High school is when you and I started to become allies. You decided that it was my time to shine and you transitioned from mosquito bites to boobies. You weren't as big as I wanted...yet. But I was happy to occupy my bra with your presence. I started to feel more like a woman instead of a prepubescent schoolboy.

By the time college came around, you were in full bloom...your prime... you weren't boobies anymore..you were tits. Sexy tits. Victoria's Secret sexy tits. I referred to you as 'The Girls' and boy did you get a lot of attention. You were fondled, you were pinched, you were grabbed, you were sucked, you brought ecstasy to my life. I never realized how sensitive you were. You were perky and cute yet erotic and strong. You gave my self esteem the boost I needed. I was no longer embarrassed to be associated with you or my sexual self. You had become one with me.

Life went on and then came marriage and babies.

I never knew how much you would change when my babies entered the picture. Our relationship had become a roller coaster of emotions. When I was pregnant, You decided to transform into sloppy, ugly National Geographic fun bags. You were no longer 'tits'..you became 'breasts'. I couldn't even look at you in the mirror. You disappointed me...but I never gave up on you.
You redeemed yourself right after I gave birth. You became delicious flesh melons. I changed your name to 'stripper boobs' because you were perfectly round and voluptuous---- you were back to tits. I missed you. I wanted you to stay like this forever...

But life goes on, seasons change and so do boobs.

I would never consider replacing you with fake ones. You've been good to me. I'm blessed to have you. I'm sure that there are a lot of women out there with cancer-stricken boobs that would kill for a pair like you. So, just know, that I appreciate you and have never taken you for granted and never will.

We've had a love/hate relationship up until now and you will always be a part of me...

(even if I secretly wish to have the stripper boobs back )

Love Always,
Me

Sexy Mother Packer

I confess.

I'm a serial over packer.

I will take EVERYTHING I can and pack it... 'JUST IN CASE'.


That's my excuse everytime..

Charlie: Why are you packing shampoo? They have it at the hotel.
Me: Just in case

Charlie: You're bringing a blow dryer, too?
Me: Just in case
Charlie: And... 10 pairs of panties?
Me: Just in case
Charlie: Do you really think you need all those shoes? We are only going to be gone for the weekend!
Me: Just in case
Charlie: And...the fur-lined parka & snowboots?? It's Arizona and 100 degrees outside...
Me: Just in case!

I can't help it. I like to be prepared!

My husband's mantra is, "...just buy it when you get there.."
He can fit a whole year's wardrobe into a Nike carry-on bag and be fine with it.
Me, on the otherhand, need a forklift to help me hoist all the heavy luggage for a weekend trip to San Diego.

It's gotten even worse now that I have kids...

Charlie: Why are you packing 6 toothbrushes? We only have 2 kids.
Me: Just in case
Charlie: Do you really think they need 3 pairs of pajamas and all this underwear?
Me: *sigh* Just in case!
Charlie: We are only going to be gone for 2 days. What's with the sweaters, ski masks and 5 pairs of jeans for each of them?!
Me: *roll my eyes*..Just in case
Charle: And stuffed animals, coloring books, a DVD player and the Barbie apartment/condo? Do they really need all this stuff?
Me: Just in case!!!

By the time I've packed everything but the kitchen sink, I've managed to load up 4 suitcases and 2 duffel bags. And I know, nine times out of ten, I really only use a quarter of what I brought. But, hey...I am always prepared! Why buy it when you have it at home? (Or in my case, in your suitcase?!)

What also changes when you become a mother is your handbag.

Oh, the lovely little handbag metamorphasizes into 5x's it's size when you have kids. You no longer have the cute little clutch..you now have the 'mom purse'..ouch!

I remember how cute my 'pre-mom' bag was..it was like yesterday...

It was the cutest little Louis Vuitton handbag with a matching coin purse and wallet. I loved that bag and the contents inside:

- Dior compact with rosy lip gloss
-Matching Louis Vuitton check book holder with pen
-Chanel blush
-Leather business card holder
-Cell phone neatly placed in the inside pocket
-Tiffany heart keyring with a few keys
-Concert tickets
-Brush
-Mint Gum
-Chanel perfume
-Dior sunglasses

And then.... it all changed after I shot my offspring out my birth cannon....
My cute little handbag turned into a monstrous, Mary Poppins, bottomless, pit of a purse overnight.

I now lug around the handbag from hell.

Let's take inventory, shall we?

- Dior compact w/ a broken mirror and smudged gloss
- Receipts
- Check book is now unbalanced and bent with pages folded over
- Receipts
- An unopened Capri Sun drink with a missing straw
- Receipts
- 3 different packs of gum with only one stick left in each pack
- Receipts
- A lollipop with crumbs and a paperclip stuck to it
- Receipts
- Movie ticket stubs from Hannah Montana
- Receipts
- Chuck E. Cheese tokens
- Receipts
- Cellphone with fingerprints and a sticker on the back
- Receipts
- Expired coupons
- Receipts

- A Polly Pocket shoe and skirt

- Receipts

- Polly Pocket's head (yes, just her head)

- Receipts
- Free panty coupon for Victoria's Secret that expired last Christmas
- Receipts

- Restaurant crayons with only 2 in the pack

- Receipts

- A rock

- Receipts

- A broken hair clip

- Receipts

- High School Musical lip gloss w/ Corbin Bleu scratched off because he's 'ugly'

- Receipts
- Recipe that I ripped out of a magazine at the dentist's office..last year
- Tampons
- Receipts
- Advil
- Receipts
- Camera to record all the kids' special moments (as soon as I erase the full memory stick)
- Receipts
- Hand sanitizer stuck to an appointment card for my gynecologist (that I forgot about)
- Receipts
- 3 packs of Spongebob Fruit snacks

I find it quite humorous as I take inventory. Wow..has my life changed. But I savor every minute of it.

And yet... it's kinda sad.

I know that before long, my babies will be all grown up and my huge, monstrous purse will slowing change back into the small handbag it once was... but for now, I will continue to immerse myself into the joys of motherhood...and hang on to the Chuck E. Cheese tokens...

JUST IN CASE :)

The Ghosts of Boyfriends Past...

"Maybe the past is like an anchor holding us back. Maybe... you have to let go of who you were to become who you will be...." Carrie Bradshaw, Sex in the City


Boyfriends.
Do I have any regrets about my past or who I've dated?
Absolutely not.

Do I sometimes question the decisions I've made when it came to the colorful personalities that I've have shared my life with?
Absolutely.

I know that God brings people in and out of our lives for a reason. And I've taken away so much from each relationship. I have learned a lot about myself and about life from each and every one of them. Although I don't mention every single guy I've dated in this blog (please don't take offense), you've all made an impact on my in some way, shape or form. I've learned how much my soul can tolerate and how much my heart can forgive.

To all the Ghosts of Boyfriends Past, I'd like to thank you...

D.R.: You were my very first boyfriend in 8th grade. You were the first to hold my hand and you were my first kiss. In junior high, when I was going through my 'ugly duckling' stage, you thought I was cute and it really boosted my self confidence that a popular boy like you found a goofy, clumsy girl like me attractive. But then you decided to 'cheat' on me with Veronica because she let you feel her boobies and go down her Jordache jeans. I was crushed. But I want to thank you. Thank you for bringing out the stronger side of me at such an early age. It felt good to know that I could make wise decisions and stand up for myself and not give in the pressures of intimacy at such an early age.


E.A.: We were together for 2 whole weeks in junior high. That's equivalent to a year in real life ;) You had the best handwriting, you were smart, funny and brought out the intellectual side of me. Thank you for helping me overcome my fear of revealing the "smart " side of myself instead of hiding it for fear of being classified as a nerd. I still have the love notes you sent me and will always cherish them. And now you're in heaven, your life taken too early. Miss you lots, Eddie.

D.S.: You were my first car date. You were the first one my mom let me stay out with until 10 p.m. You respected me and you never tried anything inappropriate. You were on the baseball team and had your head on straight. You had the Suzuki Samurai that screamed 'chick magnet'. You gave me all your attention and I think I took advantage of that. I want to apologize for being such a spoiled brat to you in high school. I want to apologize for breaking up with you and believeing your "friend" who told me that you were seeing other people behind my back when you really weren't. I didn't realize he had other motives. I will forever carry around the guilt and I am truly sorry. I know that you and I remained friends afterwards but I don't remember why we grew apart- it was probably my fault. But I want to Thank you. Thank you for showing me that guys in high school can still be gentlemen and loving without expectation of a physical nature. Thank you for bringing out the laughter in me.

B.G.: I had a crush on you in 11th grade, but we technically never dated. You were a baseball player, cute and always flirted with me and so I thought there was a chance for us. When i finally revealed my true feelings to you, you crushed me by telling me you had a girlfriend that attended a different school. WTF? You never, ever mentioned a girlfriend before. I felt like the biggest loser, And when things didn't pan out with her, you tried to get with me. But it was a little too late. THEN...I find out (22 years later) that you lied to me about my boyfriend (D.S.) cheating on me. You lied just to get me to break up with him. I don't think I will ever forgive you for that. I lost a very special person in my life because of you and I will always carry around the guilt for hurting him. Yet, still..I want to thank you. Thank you for keeping me grounded and bringing me to the realization that life isn't fair and that it goes on with or without me and my broken heart. A harsh reality to swallow at 16.

M.O.: Took you to my prom, dated for over a year and thought things were 'ok'. It was the 'football-player-meets-thug' swagger you had, that attracted me to you. Or maybe it was your cockiness that fascinated me. And there were some things that I thought I could change about you, and I tried. I thought that if could just change those 'little things', our relationship would be perfect. As I graduated, we grew apart...naturally. For the record, I never cheated on you. What I am guilty of, is knowing in my heart that it was over between us and not being upfront about it. Thank you for helping me learn that I cannot change anybody. I cannot 'fix' people or go into relationships thinking that this person will change for me. I either accept them for who they are or move on.

F.L.: When writing this blog, i told myself that I wasn't going to bash anyone. But with you, i will make an exception. I wish I could say one nice thing about you, but I can't. It's taking all I have in me not to mention your name. I don't know what i was thinking when I met you. Maybe it was the 'bad boy' image that created the excitement of being with you. I strayed from my norm and took a chance with you. Being an adult woman, i thought I knew what I was getting myself into. I thought I knew better. I never expected our relationship to be such an abortion. You tore away at my soul until there was nothing left of me. My spirit was drained and replaced with such negative energy and hurt. Your controlling ways brought out your demented world of insecurities and your physical abuse revealed the coward in you. You cheated, you lied and you blamed the world for your situation instead of looking within. I didn't like myself when i was with you. I actually loathed the person I saw in the mirror. I wasn't the happy, go-lucky girl that everyone knew. I had transformed into this sad, empty shell of a human being. I alienated my best friend and my family when I was involved with you. They couldn't bare to see what I was putting myself through for you. But I didn't listen. They loved me enough to let me follow my own path, but stayed right behind me to catch me when I fell. I didn't want to face the reality that they were right about you. I was your arm candy. That's all I was. Delusional, you were. But...I started to fight back, and you didn't like that. I started to place you in the backseat of my life, and you didn't like that. I started to regain my confidence to leave you, and you didn't like that. But-- I want to thank you. Yes, I want to thank you for testing my faith and my unwillingness to give up on myself and my future. I want to thank you for showing me that I was stronger than I thought I was and that I could fight my way back and become whole again. I want to thank you for forcing me to find my own wings and fly away. And...I also want you to know that I forgave you a long time ago. I knew I came to a crossroads in my life when I was able to forgive you and find closure. You need God, I hope you find Him one day, as I know you have a lot of free time in prison.


The Ghosts of Boyfriends Past will always remain a part of me. I wouldn't be the woman I am today making unusual efforts to succeed without the life experiences of Boyfriends Past.


No regrets. Just lessons.

Off to NYC!

It's been awhile since I've been on the road without without my kids..probably about 9 years ago when I used to work for a record label and it was a weekly occurrence. I've really settled into such a comfort zone with my daily routines and the monotony of daily life (which I love).
Leaving my kids behind for less than a week is excruciating. As I sit here in the airport I see kids pass by with their parents and the feeling of guilt overwhelms me. But I constantly gotta remind myself that what I am doing is for the better of my career which also affects our family. I gotta remind myself that I can be a strong, confident, successful woman in my career while also being a successful mother as well. It's not easy balancing motherhood and my career. But it IS do-able as long as my priorities stay straight and I keep family #1.

I'll probably blog about something funny later...like what people wear to the airport or the bags they carry..or maybe the Croc shoe invasion....

*Sigh*...is time to fly back home yet??

Dance with My Father

It seems like just yesterday that I danced with my father.

I remember when I was 5 years old and running to him the minute I'd hear a Freddy Fender song play and stand on his feet and grab his waist so that we could dance together. Before the Last Teardrop Falls, was one of our favorites and he would hold me as we danced together across the room...I never wanted the song to end. And the lyrics were fitting:

I'll be there anytime
You need me by your side
To drive away every teardop that you cried..


I share a lot of blessed memories with my father along with life long lessons:

- Dad taught me that that cleanliness is next to Godliness. I never had a hair out of place, a stain on my clothes or a scuff mark on my shoes. If he could carry me so that I wouldn't touch the dirty ground, he'd do it...even now, if I'd let him.

- Dad could do the laundry, wash all the cars, vacuum the entire house, dust and cook up lunch all before 12noon.

- Wrinkles were not allowed. My brother and I walked around in starched and pressed clothes. Our creases had creases! Dad was a slave to the iron (It had to be the Navy man in him)

- Dad knew I sucked at math and he was always patient with me. My math problems never made sense until he'd show me how to do it

- When it came to deadbeat boyfriends, he'd let me fall. He always trusted that I was smart enough to make my own decisions when it came to guys and in the end I'd always drop the zeros

- My dad was in the military, so there were many times where he'd have to go out to sea-- 9 months to a year at a time. I remember how he'd take the family out for a drive the night before he had to leave and we'd get ice cream and just enjoy driving around with him until the sun set

- I remember when the morning would come for dad to leave to the ship for Westpac and I'd cry uncontrollably after he'd leave. I never wanted him to see me cry because I didn't want to make him sad or have his last image of me in tears

- I remember the Grease soundtrack that my dad bought me. I played it so much that I wore the tape out and he ended up buying me another copy

- I always looked forward to the road trips we made to San Antonio, Texas in dad's brown Camaro

- Because Dad was a stickler on having a well manicured lawn, he never let us have a Slip-n-Slide. "It damages the grass!" he'd say

- I remember the purple bike he taught me to ride without training wheels. It was the coolest bike ever and I'm sure he was on the verge of having a coronary watching me fall constantly. I'm surprised i wasn't wrapped in bubble wrap from the first attempt

- If my brother or I got hurt, Dad would automatically get upset, "WHAT?! What NOW?!" He immediately went into panic mode

- One of the hardest days of my life was having to tell my father that his dad, my grandfather, had passed away

- Dad was the first person to ever introduce me to rap music! He had the vinyl record for The Sugar Hill Gang, Rapper's Delight. I loved the song so much, that to this day, I still remember every single lyric. (I'm a pretty big hit at karaoke bars)

- My dad always waited up for me when I went out with my girlfriends. I'd always bring him home a late night treat like a dessert or Mexican food and we'd stay up in the kitchen and just talk

- When my mother would cook liver and onions (a dish I despised) Dad would say, "Mmmm, hígado (Spanish for liver)..eat it! It'll put hair on your chest!"

- My dad is an obsessive compulsive when it comes to locked doors. He'll quadruple check the front door and garage door before he goes to sleep. He'd always tell me to keep my car door locked when I went out and made me prove it as I backed out of the driveway

- When I decided that it was good idea to "bleach" my brown hair in the 8th grade and it turned orange, he said I looked like an Aztec Indian. I scoffed..but now looking back at the pic- Yikes, it was horrible.

- My dad washed his hair with soap and always smelled good

- Dad could always bake up a mean Bundt cake and cheesecake

- My dad was a stickler when it came to time management. If my curfew was 12 midnight, he meant 12 midnight on the dot. Not 12:01, not 12:03. If I wasn't through the door at exactly 12 midnight, I would expect him sitting and waiting for me on the stairs with a clock in his hand asking me if I knew what time it was

- "Where's my change?" was his favorite line

- "Dad, do you have a couple a bucks?" was mine

- I remember when The Wonderful World of Disney would come on TV when I was little. I would grab a pillow and make myself comfy on dad's lap and we'd watch it together

- I'd always pretend that I was asleep in the car when we'd drive home late from somewhere and he'd end up having to pick me up and take me to my room

- My father was such a great husband to my mother. He loved her and I reveled in the affection he showed her

- When mom and I would get in a disagreement, I would run to him and he'd listen- even though he'd usually be in agreement with my mother, I still felt like he had my back

- Dad was the only one who could make me laugh until my sides hurt

- Even when I visit my father's house today, the flood of warm memories fill my soul as soon as I walk through his front door.

My father was and still is, the epitome of a great man. His love and inspiration have transformed me into the woman I am today. He taught me to never settle for second best and brought me up knowing that I could have anything I wanted with hard work. His encouraging words and unconditional love continue to resonate. Every chapter in my life from childhood to adulthood to marriage and children~I continue to look to him for guidance.

The last time I danced with my father, it was during my wedding. And like the Freddy Fender song, I didn't want it to end. Deep inside, I felt that once the song ended and he let go..that I'd have to move on and let go of him. But..I haven't...and never will.


If I could get another chance... Another walk, another dance with him I'd play a song that would never, ever end. How I'd love to dance with my father again....

Happy Father's Day, Dad... I love you.

Mom...

This picture sits in my office at work.

I can't help but smile when I look at it.

It has all the elements that make me happy: the wind, the beach, the white sand between my 4 year old toes...and my mother...

I look at this picture and I see a child with no worries in the world with a mother who constantly dotes over her with all her love and support; a father behind the camera who captures the moment on film knowing that one day his daughter will look back on this photo with heartfelt emotion and love.

I still hear the waves crashing in the background and the seagulls fluttering above.

I still smell her Oil of Olay cream and the scent of her flowery perfume. It's a perfect mixture with the fresh ocean air and warm sun.

Her warm hugs and infectious laughter still resonate within my soul.

The joy, the energy, the light in her eyes when she looked at me. I was her world.

The smiles...the happiness...the comfort of being a kid.

A blessed childhood.

A moment in time captured to remind me of the simplicity of life and what really matters: Family-Love-Togetherness

This photo captures the essence of who I am today: a mother, a wife, a daughter, a friend.

Time goes by so fast, I can hardly catch my breath.

I now create these memories with my little girls. I, now, the doting mommy with all the love and support to give.

In my daughters' eyes, I'm now the hero.

But...I still need her.... my mom...my hero...

If I could just hold my mother's hand and dig my four year old little toes into the white sand once again...

Stars...are they squishy or hard?

My five-year-old, Sofia has a great mind.

Her thoughts amaze me and really bring me back to the simplicity and wonderment of life. Let me share some of her most recent thoughts and comments:

- Sofia didn't want to participate in her school walk-a-thon because she thought it was a

walk-a-THONG and that everyone had to show up to the school track in a THONG

- She told me that she was thinking about the stars in the sky and wondering if they were "squishy or hard"

- She asked how soon she could get her hair cut into a "side bang"

- She recently asked her Godfather "who" he was wearing. He didn't quite understand until she pulled back his collar and and read the label. She then responded, "L.L. Bean?! I've never heard of it.."

- Sofia found a penny on the ground and said, "Look mommy, a penny from heaven! God is reminding me that He's thinking of me!"

- She claims to have voted for Obama

- I took her to The Gap to get her a few things and when I picked out a cute dress she said, "SERIOUSLY?" in her most serious tone ever

- She plans her birthday gift list 12 months in advance. She has the "Smooth Away" hair removal kit as well as the Bendaroos as #4 and #5 on her list (As Seen on TV is a fave of hers)

- Sofia told me that she heard a kid on the playground call another kid a bad word that started with an "A". I tried to guess, "Hmm, did he call him an ASS?" She rolled her eyes and said, "Worse! He called him an IDIOT". At that point I was confused and ended the conversation there

- She decided that she needed to leave the table at dinner and go poop. While we were all sitting & eating, she came out of the bathroom, spread her buttcheeks and asked if it was all gone. (She was proud of her wiping job)

- Sofia says she knows how babies get inside the tummies of mommies. God comes at night and takes a tiny egg out of his pocket and pushes it through the mommy's bellybutton into her stomach and it grows and grows until it's time to push it out of her butt

- She loves infomercials and can recite any commercial from the Sham-Wow to the Aqua Globes

- She believes that Santa watches us through all the vents in the house throughout the year

- She refers to any song that I sing to on the radio as "Old School"

- She dropped out of karate because she felt that it was incomprehensible that the sensei would make a 5 year old do push-ups

- Sofia believes that cotton candy is a good breakfast

Only through the eyes of a child do we remember how funny and wonderful life can be.

Thank you, Sofia for reminding mommy that even with all the daily stresses and challenges,

life is still beautiful and simple and fun...

I love you.

Mia Turned 10

Today my daughter turned 10.

It's a bittersweet moment for me. I'm excited that she's entered the double digits and has a lot to look forward to come her teenage years...and yet...my heart is heavy with the thoughts of yesterday...

Ten years ago at 9:43am and four hours of labor, she entered this world- all 7lbs 12oz. of her. Like any new mother, as soon as my eyes met hers, the love was instanstaneous. Her tiny little hand grasped my finger and she fit so perfectly in my arms; at that very moment, nothing else in the world mattered.

I named her Mia Angelica. I wanted a name that was short and sweet but exuded confidence and strong will. After seeing the world renowned soccer player, Mia Hamm, on T.V. I knew that was the name I wanted.

When we brought her home from the hospital, she had what seemed like, a never-ending bout with colic. There were many sleepless nights and endless tears (and that was just me). I thought I was supposed to have one of those "perfect" babies that you see on T.V.- you know, those shiny, smiley babies that never cry. I was in for such a rude awakening. She hated sleeping in her crib, always wanted to be held and insisted on falling asleep on my chest every time.

Mia hated to be away from me. I could not leave the room without her wailing like someone was pulling her toenails out one by one with a pair of rusty pliers. She always wanted to be carried and had to have me at arm's length at all times. I thought this phase would never end and that I would forever be joined at the hip with her.

But as time went on, she started to need me less and less...

She no longer needs me to kiss her goodbye when I drop her off at school in the morning (that just doesn't happen in 4th grade). She pours her own milk in her cereal bowl. She showers and gets ready for school by herself. When she talks with her best friend, Jade on the phone, she leaves the room. She doesn't need me to hold her hand anymore when crossing the street. She closes the bathroom door now and and can tie her own ponytail. She has her own opinions ...her own thoughts...her own dreams.What happened to that little hand that grabbed my finger so tightly 10 years ago?

All this time, she had been letting go; without me noticing, she slowly unleashed her grip from my finger and also...my life.

Independence replaced me.

As I sit here tonight watching her sleep, I can't help but feel sad. My little girl is growing up. Her little round face has metamorphasized overnight right in front of me. Her long bodyframe and her size 5 narrow feet show all the signs of a beauty in the making. I no longer see the chubby, fat toes of a toddler or a sticky mouth of a first grader.

I wipe away my "happy tears" and bend down to feel her cheek and kiss her forehead...

and out of nowhere...

she reaches for my finger

and holds tight...

Attack of the Panty Drawer

When you become a mom, practicality takes precedence over fabulosity. And this is quite evident when it comes to my underwear. I can't bear to throw away my most favorite, my most comfortable, underwear.

I will be the first to admit, I will hold on to a pair of panties for years until the elastic is ripping through and the material is almost transparent. It's sooo hard to let go. So I convince myself to just throw them back in my panty drawer and get rid of them later. From time to time, I will do my best to "clean out" my underwear drawer and this is when I start finding different types of panties and thongs and question why I never wear them...until I try them on:

-too tight

-pinches my gut in half

-rides up my buttcheeks

-squeezes my outter thigh fat

And you think I'd just get rid of 'em right??

Wrong.

I throw them back into my drawer so as not to hurt their panty feelings.

But this does give me a reason to go panty shopping.

Shopping for undergarments takes all day and it's excrutiating; kinda like standing in line at the DMV or getting your wisdom tooth pulled.

First stop: Victoria's Secret.

I ask myself what the hell am I doing in here? I browse around amongst all the 16 year olds shopping for push-up bras and lace thongs. I really don't like the way Victoria's Secret panties feel... I don't care what you call them: V-string, Brazilian cut, Very Sexy..they are all very uncomfortable. The elastic digs into my muffin top and keeps riding up my butt. They're made for women who are about 60lbs with no curves and no ass. Why don't I look like the model in the pic when I wear these panties?

I end up leaving with lipgloss and body spray.

Next stop: Fredericks of Hollywood.

Again, I ask myself what the hell am I doing here? I walk around the store and every picture seems to have a woman posing with one finger between her painted lips and every pair of panties looked like they'd be painful to wear. With names like "Naughty Knickers" and "Hollywood Exxtreme", you'd think I was getting prepped for a porn scene with Ron Jeremy. "Cotton" is a foreign word; leather, lace and crotchless? Then you're speaking their language.

I leave with mints shaped like lips and a pink hair tie.

Final Stop: Macy's.

I decide to forgo the sexy undies and stick to what makes me the happiest~ cute, cotton, bikini Jockey brand panties in the 3-pack. Very unsexy, but practical and oh-so-comfortable-- like me! And they're on sale! Woo-hoo! I'll take two! I merrily skip out of the store with my plastic white bag.

I've come to realize that my panties don't define me. I'm the sexy one, not my underwear. Nothing is sexier than a woman comfortable in her own skin and confident in who she is.

These are the moments that matter.

So bring on the ugly, high-waisted grandma panties..I'll rock those and still be stunning!

(..and then they'll join the rest of the panty posse in the back of my drawer.)

Shout Out to Thefreshfiends.com

I gotta give credit to a couple of pretty, intelligent, classy women who created a fun, positive website with a focus on street savy style and sisterhood with a sprinkle of entertainment in top!

Lady La and Miss Summer bring you http://www.thefreshfiends.com/

THINK: Harajuku Lovers meet Hip Hop Love

Both La and Summer keep it real and keep you in the know with everything trendy. I guarantee, once you've had a taste of http://www.thefreshfiends.com/, you'll be coming back for more!!
Much love to my girls xoxoxo

My Car...The Traveling Junk Drawer

Yup. There is no denying it. My car is a traveling junk drawer.

The thing about it is...it's not any ordinary, small junk drawer.

It's an SUV, TAHOE- SIZED junk drawer.

BUT, I have an excuse.

I travel 36 miles to downtown everyday to drop off my kids and go to work and then I drive 36 miles back home in the evening. We spend A LOT of time in the car- which means A LOT of crap accumulates. I knew it was time for me to clean things out when everytime I took a turn, I felt all the junk fall from one side of the truck to the to other.

I took inventory the other day when I attempted to just "pick up" a little bit and here's just a few things I came across:

-overdue library book from the Phoenix library

-Barbie with no top

-Broken yo-yo

-DVD's with missing cases

-DVD cases with missing DVD's

-Hair clips

-2 tubes of Hannah Montanta lip gloss

-2 kick balls

-Half eaten bag of melted M&M's

-Homework from 2 months ago

-1 empty Capri Sun

-2 quarters, 3 pennies and a nickel with hair

-Pack of Bubblicious

-Jonas Brothers book

-School uniform top

-Crayons

-4 markers

-Girl Scout cookies in the box

-Pillow

-1 flip flop

-Headband

-Stickers from the Dr's office

-4 goldfish crackers

-Littlest Pet Shop toys

-Nintendo DS games

-Bookmarker

-Movie tickets

-Farting slime (stick fingers in a bucket of slime & it makes fart noises)

-Sketch books

-Stuffed monkey

-Stuffed puppy with a hot pink tutu

-A McDonald's french fry

-Sonic cherry slush stain on the rug

Oh...I could go on and on, but you get the idea. It was enough to start my own little retail business. I constantly tell myself that I'm never going to let it get like that again ! But I fail miserably everytime.

I used to be envious of other people who had spotless cars that smelled like crisp, new leather. No smudges on the windows or sticky residue on the seat. They were the ones who didn't have to throw things under the seat or hide all the crap under a jacket when other people rode in the car with them.

I used to be envious.

But now I realize how lucky I really am.

Taking inventory of my car also forced me to take inventory of my life and how blessed I really am. I have transportation. I have beautiful, healthy children. I have a car of things that they love. It will only be a matter of time before those childhood items will be replaced with memories. It's hard to accept that one day I won't have my "junk drawer"to complain about. (It was hard enough getting rid of their infant car seats).

I sigh heavily as I hold the stuffed puppy in the hot pink tutu close to my heart. I place it back in my car...along with the pillow,the topless Barbie, stuffed monkey, Nintendo Games, crayons, markers...

and yes...

even the farting slime :)

Mom Jeans

If you're like me, you can never find the perfect pair of jeans.

I admit, I'm hippy and yeah- I'm still holding on to some of that post baby weight from my youngest child who will be 6 this year (I swear, I'm working on it). But no matter what kind of jeans I try on, they never look as good as they do in magazines on the models. I can never find jeans that are cute and comfortable while at the same time preventing the "spillage" of fat over my waist or what most would call "muffin top" or in Spanish llanta- tire.

Jeans can age you. They really can! I know some women who are in their mid-20's that wear the "mom jeans" and they're immediately thrust forward 20 years. We all know the mom jeans: high, skinny waist, no pockets, tapered legs and pleats that accentuate your gut. And the look wouldn't be complete without the infamous "tucking in" of the t-shirt into the jeans and adding a belt. Ai-yi-yi... this style does not look attractive on anyone!! You could probably get away with this look when you're 80.

How about the cameltoe jeans? Jeans so tight that everyone can read your lips. How can having a wedgie in the front be comfortable? It isn't sexy when guys point and laugh at your "moose knuckle". Plus, i don't think it's very healthy for you either. Leave the cameltoe pants to ice skaters, ballet dancers and porn stars.

And where would we be without the low-rise, hip-hugging jeans that allow you to show your thong? Very classy. And why is it always the 300 lb. woman I see flashing her thong atop her low rise jeans?

Nevertheless, one day I will find that perfect pair of jeans that will shrink and lift my butt, slim my hips and suck in my muffin top....

Yeah, right~ who am I kidding?

"...You Have Such a Pretty Face..."

Today I got together with some girlfriends for lunch. The conversation quickly turned from discussing outfits to wear to the Phoenix Open to a funny bitch session about one particular phrase:

"You have such a pretty face..."

We all agreed that it was code for:

"Too-Bad-You're-a-Fat-Cow-Because-Above-the-Neck-You're-Cute-And-If-It-Wasn't-For-Your-Body-I'd-Take-You-Out".

MEN: No matter how you phrase it, it'll never come out right. It's not a compliment. Refrain from ever using this line again with any woman. Think about it this way: you wouldn't want a woman saying "Size really doesn't matter to me" after seeing you naked.

Ouch. You feel the sting?

Instead, try saying, "You're pretty". Those two simple words will suffice. You'll get farther with that. I guarantee it.

And WOMEN: stay away from anything related to size when seeing him in the buff. A few different words will suffice (feel free to combine the words at different times when necessary): "Remarkable" or "Wow" or "Oooo" will pretty much mask the disappointment.

Choose Your Words Wisely.....And that, folks, is my lesson for today!

Why do I look like the "before" pics in diet ads?

It's true.

Everytime I come across those damn diet ads in magazines or on T.V. I look at the "before" pics and think, "Geez, I could make some dough as a "before" model!"

Don't get me wrong, I don't walk around with a half shirt with my gut hanging over my jeans. I know how to hide the flab and I think I do a pretty good job at it. My tummy isn't as cute as it used to be with the battle wounds of birth (i.e. stretch marks) and the post baby fat (my kids are both 5 & 9 years old and I still consider my flab post baby fat).

It's hard not to envy those celebrities that pop out a few kids and 2 weeks later are walking along the beaches of St.Tropez in a teeny, tiny bikini. What the hell? It's just so unfair; granted, they have trainers and personal chefs that help them bounce back into shape~ but it doesn't help my esteem any! For me, 2 weeks post pregnancy, I'm still wearing my grandma maternity panties and ugly ass, breast-feeding bra with the leak pads inside.

But honestly, I take full responsibility for the shape I'm in.

Am I morbidly obese?

No.

Could I stand to lose a few pounds?

Yes.

My excuse for not exercising and eating right?

Time.

After having kids, priorities change. Your time becomes their time and the hours in your days become shorter-- there are never enough of them. And when things slow down and you do have any extra time (like around midnight)- all you want to do is sleep. Sometimes I feel like I'm on this treadmill of life without a slow down button.

But.. I keep going.

My kids are my life and well, I'm a glutton for punishment.

Maybe one day I'll have the time to work out, diet & purge a la Victoria Beckham. But until then...my gut and I will gladly apply for the position of 'before' model.

Argh- the Grocery Carts from Hell

They really thought they were making our life easier when they introduced this contraption to us.

They thought that every mom with kids under the age of ten would be thanking the Lord for the introduction of this vehicle into the shopping world.

It would be a tool to help make all mothers shopping experiences more pleasurable....

so they thought.

If you're a mother, you know exactly what I'm talking about---the grocery cart from hell...

The makeshift truck, fire engine, rocket ship, whale, police car, grocery cart for kids that holds about $5 worth of groceries.

I'll be the first to admit that initially, I thought it was a great idea. What more does a kid want than to be pushed around in a rocket ship shopping cart while mom loads it up with food and snacks?! Awesome idea, right?!

Not so much.

Here is the real deal of what goes down with these carts:

Mom drives up to the grocery store.
Kid insists on sitting in a rocket ship grocery cart.
It's a Saturday, so inventory is low on the cool carts.
Kid cries and whines.
Mom scours the parking lot looking for one to shut the kid up.
Mom finds one.
The one mom finds is blocked by 10 regular shopping carts in the cart return area and has a loud squeaky wheel.
Kid is still whining.
Mom manages to pull it out after getting bumped and bruised.
Kid whines because it's not the "right one".
Mom bribes kid with candy.
Kid accepts bribe and gets in cart.
Mom maneuvers the rocket ship with the grace of a bull in a china shop through the small aisles.
Mom barely gets past the fruit & vegetable section and kid is dragging one of his feet outside the side door as mom pushes the cart.
Mom starts to shop a little faster and gets to the dairy section.
Kid is now on top of the rocket ship
Mom pulls him off
Kid starts to whine and now insists on sitting INSIDE the cart with the rest of the groceries.
Mom refuses.
Kid whines and asks if she's almost done shopping.
Kid wants a doughnut.
Mom is frustrated because there is no where to put the 20 lb bag of dog food, 12 pack of Bounty paper towels or the Charmin 24 count package.
Kid whines about being bored and tired and that his feet hurt.
Mom picks up kid and carries him the rest of the way while pushing the rocket ship cart .
Kid is no longer piloting the rocket ship- the 20lb bag of dog food is now occupying the space.
Mom's child-induced scoliosis is aggravated by the weight of the kid on her hip.
Mom doesn't look forward to check out time.
The kid bagging the groceries shoves $179 worth of groceries into the rocket ship instead of getting a regular cart
Mom, still holding kid, tries to maneuver the rocket ship cart back to her vehicle in the parking lot
Mom is swerving left and right
Kid still doesn't want to be put down
Mom bumps and scratches the car with the rocket ship cart
Mom places kid in car seat and pushes the rocket ship cart back to the return area
Kid cries for the rocket ship cart
Mom slits wrists

Sound familiar?

The mothers of America need to band together to rid our grocery stores of these contraptions. We no longer need to be subjected to the abuse of the pimped out grocery carts!

Mothers unite.
Join the fight: Mothers Against Pimped Out Grocery Carts

And... well... until then just leave the kid at home.

Mantyhose..are you kidding me?!!

You think I'm kidding, don't you?

I came across an article on MSN today about the new trend among men....MANTYHOSE.

I thought this was joke when I read the headline. But come to find out there are men out there that utilize this piece of constricting legwear. It's touted as "... tougher, less delicate than women's pantyhose, but not as bulky as long underwear."

As I read the rest of the article it goes on to say that men want to shape, lift, sculpt and suck in their beer bellies and this contraption will do the trick. And if they aren't happy with the Mantyhose, a Mirdle (Man Girdle) is available for purchase.

Blame it on the Europeans. It all started with the men over there who've been sporting the hose for several years. The disturbing part of it all is that the Mantyhose come in a variety of different designs and colors! If my husband ever came to bed wearing a pair of purple fishnets, I'd have to revoke his "man card".

Quite honestly, I love my big guy- gut and all. Nothing is sexier than a guy comfortable in his own skin. And nothing is more unattractive than a guy that is so self-absorbed that he feels a need to wear mantyhose....(or a Speedo-- but that's an entirely different subject).

Long live the beer gut.

Long live real men.

To Mia & Sofia...

To Mia & Sofia to Read When...

You Attend Your Senior Prom

It's a magical time in your life when you get asked to your senior prom. I think every girl starts fantasizing about her senior prom as soon as she hits high school. You think about the dress, your hair, make-up, the limo, the dance, the guy. You want it be like the proms you see in movies and Seventeen magazine. You want to make memories that you'll live to tell your kids about.

I want you both to know that you are both special girls and any guy that has the honor of taking you to prom needs to be advised that your father will be waiting, with heavy artillery, if you are not returned in the condition you left in.

My senior prom was interesting. I ended up taking the guy I was dating at the time. He was alright..a typical jock. I wore a pink gown with lace gloves and matching heels and corsage. I wore my hair down but teased about an inch high. My date wore a white tux with a pink cumerbund with his hair gelled back. (Geez, it's starting to sound like the making of a bad 80's teen movie).

I didn't go in a limo. He picked me up in his mom's freshly washed Nissan Maxima and took me straight to prom. We didn't go to a nice restaurant like the rest of my friends did, he said we'd get something afterward. (Here's where it get's interesting...) We stayed until the end of prom and then he took me to Subway for a footlong sub. (No, I am not making this up) Then he mentions that he got a room at a local motel.

There I sat at a gross Subway shop in my pink prom dress with matching heels and lace gloves pondering my decision on why I took this guy to my last dance as a senior. I sat in front of my footlong seafood and crab sub with a blank stare. Is this how my senior prom date is going to end? At a dirty sub shop in San Diego at midnight? WTF?! He seriously thought that I was going to give it up after going to prom (which we didn't even dance at) and dining at Subway!

It wasn't my idea of how I wanted to finish the night. I always envisioned going to a prom after party with all my friends and hanging out 'til the wee hours of the morning toasting to our impending college life. I wanted it to be like the ending in the movie Footloose, when Kevin Bacon and the rest of the high schoolers dance the night away under all the glittery confetti raining down.

Unfortunately, it didn't end that way. I had him take me right home after the fine dining experience at Subway.

Is there a point to this story?

Yes, there is.

I want you both to enjoy your prom. I want you to have the time of your lives surrounded by all your good friends. I want you to have your dream dress and spectacular limo. I want you to take tons of pictures to capture the magic of the night. I want you to go to prom with someone who respects you and wants to be a part of giving you the time of your life.

(I don't want you to give it up to some guy who buys you a sandwich and thinks he can have his way with you.)

But most of all...respect yourself.

You're my girls and the most precious things in my life. You deserve the best and no man will ever be good enough for you in my eyes. So find someone worthy of your time and affection..


Because...You both deserve the glittery confetti...

Friendship

I've had the same best friends for 23 years.

I don't think many people can say that. It's easy finding a best friend when your a kid. You spend almost every waking hour with them and when you're not with them, you're on the phone with them. You go through heartbreaks together, graduation, college, marriage, kids...

The hard part of growing older is nuturing those friendships so that they don't become just another closed chapter in your life. We all get so caught up in the hustle and bustle of life that we forget about reaching out. With technology: texting, e-mails, myspace, facebook..there isn't any excuse why we shouldn't be in touch. But then again, it's so impersonal. It seems to take so much energy to pick up the phone and just call. Nothing is better than hearing the laughter of your best friend on the other line. But I always seem to find excuses- "I'll call when the kids are asleep"..."When I drive home from work, I'll call"....."I'll call this weekend"..."I'll call during the week"..."I'll call on Christmas.."

There really shouldn't be any excuse- living in a different state shouldn't make a difference. I want to be a better best friend to Ana and Lewie. They mean the world to me and deserve that much.

My two best friends are not only the Godmothers to my girls, but they've been there for every poignant moment in my life. No one else, besides my family, know more about me than Ana and Lewie. We've shared everything from broken hearts to broken families...asshole boyfriends to awesome husbands...weight loss to weight gain! We've shared it all!

Here's a quick stroll down memory lane:

Ana- I will always remember:

- the red leotard and red tights you wore in Mrs.Wade's dance class and how we both were total Valley Girls

- the time we hung out at a bonfire at the Bahia and got caught in the crossfire of gang warfare

- when we went to Tijuana for the first time and I got drunk on Long Island Ice Teas

- how much we laughed when your old school limo pulled up to take you to prom and your limo driver looked like Rick James

- how you'd graffiti all over the inside of your mom's car with "Ana was here"

- the times you'd tell us how you'd walk in on your mom and dad having sex

- laying out at Mission Beach in our bikinis and random dudes coming up and trying to spit game

- the "fudge smudge" you left on the blanket and the vomit/gag face it gave your ex

- the "Canada" shoes

- coming back from clubbing in Mexico and going straight home to get ready for church

- getting high with you and some random cute guys in college then going to our Reebok Step class and watching you turn green

- how your mom's car was always filled with food from the Sweetwater High cafeteria

- your dog with the over sized hemorrhoid

- the way Aldo used to tease me about my tight black and yellow "Samoan" dress

- my crush on Topo

- Tio Juevos

- your obsession with Tony and Ronnie

- that you were the one who woke up at 5am to go with me to get my ear surgery

- cruising Highland, hanging out at the Jack in the Box in the corner and then hiding me from Mike when he drove by

- posing in the MeCha pic in high school just so we'd get some extra coverage in the yearbook

- getting me to use lipliner and acrylic nails

- laughing at me when I tried to do my own acrylic nails

- our knee high boots

- how my cousin spilled water all over your new suede boots

- Nancy Nails

- Miriam

- getting free food from you when you worked in the concession area at Target

- talking shit to the hookers as we drove through Chula Vista

- that all you wanted was the best for me when you wanted me to leave the asshole ex

- going with you to get your Raiders tattoo and then ending up getting my Baby Sylvester (what the hell was I thinking?!)

- Mia going poop through her diaper as I got my other tattoo

- Seeing you in the stands at both high school & college graduation with my family and Lew and Adam Weikel

- taking you as my "date" to my 10 year high school reunion

- Being my Maid of Honor and doing all that you did for me for my wedding

- You accepting the honor of being Godmother to my babies

- that you have been there unconditionally since day 1 and have never left my side

Lew- I will always remember:

- the endow you did on your brother's bike while sporting the bleach streak in your hair

- how you pushed out the glass roof of my Honda civic and had to hold it as we drove around

- how we annoyed the hell out of Gaylord

- our DJ crew with Lulu- The LSL Crew and how we thought we were going to really DJ parties by practicing on your dad's old turntable

- how we died laughing when Lulu slipped and fell under the parked car as she went to go check the mail

- how I had to borrow your strapless bra for my sweethearts ball dress.

- when Allan had a crush on me and gave me your mother's pearl necklace

- singing freestyle songs and doing commercials with you, Ana and Lu in the jacuzzi

- how we took over the dance floor at my Uncle Zaldy's wedding

- attending your Rainbow Girls ceremonies

- watching you doing the letterette thing

- helping me with math

- how flawlessly you put on make-up

- walking with you on Sherbrooke and having to pass by Peanut's house and hear him say disgusting things

- always hanging out at Plaza Bonita on Friday nights

- your obessession with Ferdie

- seeing you in the stands at my graduation with Ana

- singing karaoke (esp. Journey songs) at your house

- walking to the Ralph's shopping strip to get flavored seltzer water

- you taking over my position at Leo Hamel when I left

- the sadness you & shared when both our parents split up

- when you were also a Maid of Honor with Ana in my wedding

-accepting the honor of being Godmother to my girls

- your delicious sinigang

- how we'd crack up discussing Lu's leopard lingerie

- your dad's brown station wagon

- your buttplug story

- that you've been there unconditionally since day 1 and have never left my side

You both mean so much to me. You've enriched my life more than you'll ever know. Thank you both for accepting me as I am, nuturing my soul, and walking with me every step of my life. I miss your laughter, I miss your hugs...but most of all, I miss you.

Here's to renewing our bond...our friendship in 2009 and planning our girl's weekend in Vegas.

I love you...truly.

A Day at the Movies...solo.

I never thought I'd do it.

But I did.

I went to a movie... alone.

Now, I've always been urged by my husband and even my mother-in-law to go take in a movie by myself; to get away and have a day to myself. But when you're a mother, you're always thinking about what needs to be done around the house, errands that need to be taken care of and the guilt of not spending any extra time you may have with your children.

For me, it's hard to relax. I am a clock watcher. I am constantly looking at my watch because there are never enough hours in the day and I have this internal schedule that I try to follow with dinner, bedtimes, baths, etc.

So, on Monday I dropped off the girls at school and decided that this was going to be MY day. I was in a pretty good mood. I drove to Starbucks got myself a grande, skinny, vanilla latte and then headed towards Borders bookstore. It wasn't quite 9am yet (the time it opened) so I sat in my car and waited for the Border's guy to open the door. I sat and sat...checked my email...texted a few friends while scanning different radio stations. I ended up leaving it on 90.3, a Christian station. A lot of spiritual, feel-good songs came on and I started to get all weepy. Geez, how pathetic must I look sitting in my car crying to all these Christian songs, texting friends while waiting for Borders to open. Ugh.

Finally, I spotted the Border's guy opening the doors and a few people started to pour in. I wiped away my tears, blew my nose and headed in. It felt so good, not to be on anybody's schedule but my own. I walked through the many shelves of books and came across a huge one: The World's Must-See Islands. I sat down and started to fantasize as I turned each page of beautiful islands from the pink sand beaches of Cat Island to the beautiful isles of Greece. I spent about an hour island hopping before I realized that I needed to head to the movie I decided to see...

The Curious Life of Benjamin Button.

Like I said before, I've never gone to a movie by myself before. This was going to be an experience. As I pulled up to the Harkins theater, I noticed that the parking lot was already filled with movie-goers...all about 40 years older than me. I grabbed my purse and headed towards the ticket counter...

"Hi..ticket for one for Benjamin Button at 11:10"

(Wheh... that wasn't so hard)

I went inside the theater, went pee and then ordered a child's popcorn combo (I'm trying to watch the fat, ok?) I head towards theater 1 and I feel like everyone in the building is looking at me. I grab a seat right in the middle and get comfortable. Wow..I like this. I don't have someone twisting and turning knocking their popcorn over asking me when the movie was going to start. I don't have another person asking me to take them to the bathroom and for an oversized Icee. I don't have to tell anyone not to kick the chair in front of them or to lower their voice.

This was freedom.

It was a three hour movie that was outstanding. It was a three hour movie that captured my attention and not once did I have to turn away from the screen to attend to someone else's needs. It was a three hour movie that wasn't interrupted by potty breaks or "I'm bored" sidenotes. It was heaven...with Brad Pitt!!

I will never go to another movie with someone else again. (Ok, the kid flicks~ I'll be at) But the Mommy movies...It's all me, baby.

Just me, myself & I. :)