An Open Letter to My Parents on my Birthday...

39 years ago on August 31st, you brought me into this world...and on this day, when I'm the one receiving all the hugs and happy birthdays, I wanted to take the time to acknowledge you both and say thank you...thank you for my life.

I've learned a lot and have seen a lot in the past 39 years that has forced me to recognize how blessed I am to have such wonderful parents who gave me such a happy childhood

From the day I was born you've always been overprotective. I never had a smudge of dirt on me, my hair was always fixed, my clothes were always ironed and you'd carry me so I wouldn't scuff my shoes. Even though dad was gone a lot overseas, you mom, made sure you played both roles when necessary.

Mom, I remember the first day of 1st grade, how tightly you hugged me outside my classroom while I had tears in my eyes. And even though I was reluctant to step inside my new surroundings, the warmth of your smile and the security of your hug was enough to give me the confidence I needed to get through my first day. You never failed to leave an impression. I will always remember the late nights that you would stay up and make cupcakes for my class and hand decorate each cupcake with different roses with your special butter cream frosting. And as I grew older and more of a pain in the butt, we bumped heads a lot because I thought I knew everything. I was always pissed off that I had a 12midnight curfew...even in college. But you did give me a choice: stay in the house & go to college & not pay for anything or move out, get a job and support myself. Obviously I chose to stay and suffer the curfew rule. You were education oriented and could never stress enough how being educated was the most important thing I could ever do for myself. I've never been a kid to disobey, break the rules or push the envelope. I think the most hurtful thing I could ever do would be to disappoint you...and that was enough to keep me on the right track.

Dad..we've always had the closeness that many kids wish they had. You always brought laughter and music into the house. If it wasn't for you, I would've never learned all the lyrics to The Sugarhill Gang's Rappers Delight. I still remember the vinyl record sitting next to your record player and how often we'd listen and dance to it. And when it came to Freddy Fender or Little Joe y La Familia playing, I was quick to jump on your shoes and hug your waist and dance with you while you lifted your feet to the music. I could never do wrong in your eyes, dad. And when I made mistakes in life, you were always there to pick me back up with your reassurance and love. In a world where there aren't a lot of girls with fathers in their lives, thank you for being such a strong, positive role model. I'm know you are the reason why I have zero tolerance for idiot men. Pat yourself on the back for raising a woman who doesn't take shit...and who is raising her own daughters to be the same way.

Even though you both lead separate lives now, remember always, that you BOTH raised an amazing girl..who is so thankful for such a wonderful childhood and amazing life you've given her. Not a day goes by that she doesn't thank God for you both.

Every year, you always ask what i want for my birthday.
But you've given me more than I could ever ask for...

you gave me the gift of life...

*I love you*

67 Life Tips I'll Pass Along to My Kids (Part 1)

1. Whenever you have a bad cough/cold, slather your feet with Vicks and wear warm socks to bed. It will suppress your cough overnight

2. If you have problems with your thick thighs chaffing because of the summer heat, rub some of your deodorant on each inner thigh. Because of the barrier the deodorant creates, you won’t have to worry about any rash

3. Spend money on good feminine products. Buying generic tampons is just inviting trouble and leaks

4. If a guy doesn’t call you/text you back right away..it’s not because he’s not thinking of you, it’s because that’s what guys do and he’s probably right in the middle of something

5. Crock pots rock. Invest in one. There is nothing like coming home to the wonderful aroma of a pot roast ready to eat once you walk in the door after a long day

6. Don’t be afraid to watch a movie by yourself. It’s very liberating to walk into a theater by yourself and totally immerse yourself into the storyline on the screen without any interruptions

7. Eat by yourself. Whenever the opportunity arises, don’t be self-conscious..and dine by yourself. Nothing screams “self-confidence” like a woman dining by herself

8. Smile at everyone you encounter. Every person that comes in and out of your life every day was meant to be there at that given moment. Your smile says a thousand words.

9. Laugh out loud. Who cares if someone thinks you’re obnoxious. There are people out there that would kill to have something to laugh out loud about

10. Appreciate your body. We all have a love/hate relationship with our bodies. But do what you can to be healthy and good to yourself. It doesn’t mean being anorexic, it means loving yourself enough to make healthy decisions about your lifestyle.

11. Don’t smoke. A no-brainer, right?

12. When you wake up every day, before your feet hit the floor..thank God for blessing you with another day

13. Educate yourself. An educated woman is a strong woman. An educated woman is open to many more opportunities. An educated woman has more options.

14. Never let a man raise his hand to you. If he did it once, he’ll do it again. Leave.

15. Never let the hand you hold, hold you down. Do not stay with a man that doesn’t uplift you. Jealousy and envy come from guilty men. Be with a man who makes you want to be a better woman

16. There is a fine line between sexy & slutty. If the world can see your nipples through your top and your coochie when you sit down…change

17. Real friends will tell you to change if they think your outfit is not flattering. Real friends will not let you leave the house looking like a homeless skank

18. Your best friend(s) will tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear

19. Life isn’t fair. But it’s up to you to choose how you will react in every situation. Your reaction will determine the outcome every time

20. Don’t date married men. If they were really unhappy, they’d be single.

21. When you can, turn the music up in the car and sing along loudly. It helps if it’s a rap song with bad lyrics

22. Eat cupcakes. Nothing makes me smile more than a cupcake with sprinkles

23. Travel alone if given the chance. Taking a road trip or flying solo can do wonders for your self-confidence.

24. Always say “Thank You” when someone compliments you. Even if it’s the perv at the gas station…

25. Dance with an ugly dude. When a “grenade”(aka ugly dude) asks you to dance when you’re at a club, accept the offer. It shows that you aren’t shallow and just want to have a good time

26. Acknowledge other women. If you see a woman dressed nice, great haircut, amazing shoes, etc., let her know. There is too much negativity amongst us women. We need to stop hating and start congratulating

27. When you’re about to sleep with a guy and you think he’s going to notice all the flaws on your naked body that you “think” you have…think again, guys don’t notice that stuff at that point. All they know is that they have a beautiful naked woman in front of them.

28. Protect yourself. Take the lead when it comes to birth control and protection. Never depend on a guy to handle it. Your life depends on it

29. Wax. Nothing more unappealing than a woman with a huge Chaka-Zulu bush between her legs

30. Never drink more than 3 Long Island Ice Teas in one sitting if you want to avoid being carried out of a nightclub in Tijuana

31. Drink a glass of water after each Tequila shot

32. It’s never a good idea to “try” weed right before a high intensity cardio workout at your college

33. Learn to walk in stilettos and spend money on quality shoes. Flats are made for weekends at home and do NOTHING for you

34. Always have a cute black dress in your closet. If all else fails, that is an item you can always rely on

35. Always have clean fingernails/toenails. People can tell a lot about you by the way you keep your fingers and toes up

36. Brush AND floss daily. No one likes a yuck mouth

37. Never believe a guy when he says “Just the tip..”

38. Take care of your car. Never let it go below a ¼ of a tank (so bad for the engine)

39. Let your date pick up the tab; don’t feel like you always have to be a feminist

40. Enjoy a weekend on the couch with your sweats watching the Lifetime channel with all the cheesy made for tv movies

41. Surround yourself with positive people. Negative people are a cancer and can steal your joy continuously

42. Alone does not mean lonely

43. Own a pet. At the end of the day, if there is anyone that loves you unconditionally (besides me)..it’s your dog

44. Nothing works like exercise and a well balanced diet. Save your money and don’t spend it on fad diets

45. Vitamin E oil heals every skin ailment

46. When you have poop cramps, do not attempt to fart. You WILL shit your pants

47. Never park next to a van in the parking lot and always act like you’re a bad ass when you are walking out of the store to your car. Be aware of your surroundings and lock your car as soon as you get in. Don’t be a victim

48. Volunteer at a food bank. It really puts things in perspective when it comes to your life issues

49. Remind yourself that you don’t have bad days; you have inconvenient ones. The parents of a child with stage 4 cancer…. that’s a bad day

50. Think twice about your road rage when someone pisses you off on the freeway. That person that cut you off could’ve just received bad news. Take a breath and let it go

51. Never kick a boy in the nuts

52. Ride a rollercoaster

53. Refuse to feel guilty when you want time to yourself. It’s hard when you’re a mom, but you need to take care of YOU if you’re gonna take care of THEM

54. Lunges and squats WILL change the look of your butt

55. Learn to swim

56. Don’t go to bed mad. Leave all your frustrations behind before closing your eyes

57. Don’t bring up things from the past; look ahead. There is a reason why the windshield in your car is so big and the rearview mirror is so small. The past is not as significant as the present or the future

58. Don’t burn bridges—life has a funny way of “recycling” people back into your life

59. It’s not true about the size of a man’s feet

60. Use flushable wet wipes instead of regular toilet paper

61. Pluck your eyebrows (don’t overpluck). It will change the look of your face

62. Take lots of pics…capture every moment in life you can

63. Go to a concert and dance in your seat

64. Buy colors and a coloring book and when you’re stressed, start coloring. It does wonders

65. Always remind your best friends how important they are

66. Send a card to your parents on your birthday thanking them for life

67. Listen to your heart..it’s God whispering

You Dirty Girl!

Pet Peeve #76
Unsanitary Women

Nothing I hate more than public restrooms.
What’s even worse is walking into a ladies restroom and seeing how filthy women can be.
There are some women out there that have NO SHAME.
I’ve been witness to many things in the powder room and it ain’t pretty! Let me share a few of my favorite bathroom characters:

The Faux Washer- She is the one who comes out of the stall, sets her purse down and looks in the mirror pretends to fuss with her hair for a few minutes in front of the sink, but doesn’t ever wash her hands. She leaves like she’s in a hurry and smells her hands on the way out.

The Bloody Valentine- She is the chick that leaves her bloody tampon floating in the toilet. She doesn’t check to see if it was ever flushed completely down the pipe. She could care less for the next person that sees the aftermath of her bloody outpour. This character trait is not limited to just the teen factor. There are many grown ass women that can’t handle their red tide. Check yourself.

The Gangsta- She is quick to do a drive-by shit. She comes in with the quickness, doesn’t care who’s around and drops the biggest doo-doo ever and leaves.

The Queefer- She is the chick that comes in and lets out vaginal farts as she pees. If you look under the stall, she’s probably wearing some ugly ass Birkenstocks or Velcro, leather sandals. She’ll wait ‘til everyone is out of the restroom to make her exit.

The Pad Thai- The chick that still uses pads and doesn’t care to wrap the used ones up, but rips it from her panties and just throws it half-way into the miniature trashcan. It sticks out half way so that you have a nice visual of her blood clots and shit marks.

The Cougher- She is the one that comes in to take a dump and coughs to mask the splash of her shit hitting the water, or to cover the sound of her wiping her muddy ass.

The Talker- She is the chick that can’t put her phone down while she’s using the restroom. She is the one in the stall that is talking/cussing loud enough for everyone to hear about her baby daddy sleeping with her girl, LaQueefa .

The Sprinkler- This is the one that leaves pee-pee drips all over the toilet seat. You can’t seem to figure out how that happens if one wipes their vagina properly. But then again, we’re talking about dirty women.

The Flusher- The Flusher is the girl who comes in to take a crap and flushes right before it hits the water..and will continually flush to avoid the embarrassment and the smell (NOT to be confused with The Cougher)

The Panty Dropper- She is the chick that as soon as she drops her panties, the smell of day old fish and feet permeate the bathroom. As soon as you walk into the stall that she previously used the odor has the ability to render you immobile. Beware.

The next time you’re in the ladies room, take notice of these characters.

You will never, ever enter another public restroom the same way again…

In Her Shoes...

The Shape-Up shoe has to be the ugliest shoe ever invented.

The Shape-Up shoe joins the ranks of Birkenstocks, Platform Flip Flops and Teva Sandals.

EWWW…

If you own any of the above, take them outside and burn them immediately. They are the most unflattering shoe a woman could ever put on her feet.

The Shape-Up shoe claims to firm buttock muscles, tone and firm thigh muscles, tighten abdominal muscles and firms calf muscles. I can think of a million other ways to firm my muscles than subjecting myself to ugly ass shoes.

Take a good look at these shoes…I mean really. Do not compromise your sense of style when trying to get your fitness on by sporting these kicks. There’s a reason Joe Montana endorses them…they’re orthopedic, fit for a dude and no one else would wear ‘em if they weren’t getting paid for it.

And let me talk shit about a few of the other shoes that have made Sandra’s U.S.L. (Ugliest Shoe List):




The Teva Sandals
Oh Lord! Ok, no offense to my lesbian friends. You know I love you and I always tell it like it is, but you guys seem to love these sandals! What is it with gay women and man shoes? Hazel? LeTonya? Can you tell me? Seriously, if I was batting for your team, you would get NO GAME if I saw you sporting these with your cargo shorts. No excuse ladies…gay does not mean style-retarded. Remember… Velcro (especially on shoes) is a no-no.




The Birkenstock
There is only one reason you should have a pair of these in your closet: you were actually AT Woodstock and kept your sandals for the great memories of your unshaved bush, smoking spliffs and having group sex in the mud. Get rid of ‘em if you weren’t part of that movement.







The Platform Flip Flop
Trailer Park. Dirty. Enough said.


I’m not trying to point any fingers or say that because you own any of the aforementioned shoes that you are fashion outcast.

But…

If the shoe fits…..

She Had Dumps Like a Truck...

“She had dumps like a truck, truck, truck

Thighs like what, what, what

All night long….Let me see that thong…”
---Sisqo, Thong Song

I want a dumps like a truck and thighs like what.

I want a “thong-worthy” ass.

First of all, I wasn’t born with a nice firm, booty. Being Asian/Mexican, you think my chances of getting a nice, round full ass were in my favor.

*SIGH*

Unfortunately, God decided to give me the Asian, barely there, booty and the Latina hips and thighs…damnit! I wish we could reverse the two! I’d love to have no hips and thighs with a delicious ba-donk-a-donk.

And these thighs…are you kidding me?

It didn’t help that I started gymnastics at an early age. That just added to the bulk of these stems. And guess what happens when you grow up and stop your gymnastics workout? Yup…those thighs become jell-o. Then the weight fluctuations come and go and that’s when the lovely cellulite decides to set up camp starting from your inner thighs and slowly take over the rest of the outer thigh campsite. But the Cellulite family gets lonely, so they invite over the Stretch Marks. The Stretch Marks are a busy bunch. They love to hang out on the hips and stomach. They love to make long, lovely roads from your stomach to your belly button. They’re a committed family and will be with you ‘til the day you die. Comforting, right?

When guys started to refer to my junk as appealingly “thick” instead of fat, I started to think twice about rejecting my body. If you can’t have what you want, then work with what you got, right?

And so I did that.

I am no ass shaking, video chick by any stretch of the imagination (although that would be an awesome side job to be with rappers making it rain with the benjamins), but I look at these beautiful women (well, most of them are beautiful) with toned, thunder thighs and booties in these videos and I think, “what am I complaining about?” These women capitalize off their curves! I need to start embracing my thickness…

I took charge. My workouts, my cardio…all these have done wonders for my thighs AND my ass. I’m not in perfect shape, but I’m doing my best to mold, and stretch and tone out these problem areas. My thighs don’t even rub together anymore…now that’s an accomplishment in itself! Is my body in the condition I want it to be in?

Nope.

But I’m getting there.

Dumps like a truck? Not yet

Thighs like what? Not yet

Embracing and accepting my thickness….I’m there.

(I’ll let you know when I can crack a walnut with my ass cheeks)

"I Got This Ice Box Where My Heart Used to Be..."

Nothing worse than opening up your fridge door and things toppling all over you with the “old food” odor dancing around your nostrils. I admit..I’m the worst when it comes to throwing crap out. The kitchen trashcan is about 10 steps away but it commands too much of an effort on my part to walk over and throw anything out. Like many household items, I have a love/hate relationship with my refrigerator…so let me share a few of my issues:

FTS “Fridge-to-Trash-to-Sink” Domino Effect
You may of experienced it, but let me set the scenario so that you are witness to the mindset of a madwoman: I open up the fridge. I see a bazillion (ok, 5 or 6) Tupperware containers of leftovers. I think to myself, “Hmm, Sandra, it would probably be a good idea to take those containers out and make more space..” Now, that’s what the level-headed Sandra thinks. But then the tired, working mom, Sandra says, “Shit, that means I’ll have to take all these containers to the trashcan, scrape out all the crap and THEN go back to the sink and wash them out! And it’s not going to be easy because there is food in those containers that I don’t even remember making and now have taken on a different life form..blechhh!” So, I convince myself that the smartest thing to do would be to throw everything out to “protect “everyone from any harmful bacteria. I’m very considerate that way.

Take-Out Graveyard
My fridge doubles as a graveyard for take-out food. Once those Styrofoam boxes, Chinese take-out boxes, paper bags and/or earth friendly containers hit the fridge, it’s lights out…literally. I can hear the food scream as I transport them from my car to my kitchen. They know that their demise is near. I don’t know why I am such a food murderer. I should leave that last bite of cheesecake on the plate, that last helping of Pad Thai, that last fork of feta chicken salad….but do I? Nooooo. I convince myself that I shouldn’t be wasteful and that there are starving children all over the world who would kill for those last three Pad Thai noodles. So I get everything boxed up to make it’s way through the food funeral procession to my fridge. My Take-Out graveyard also signifies how unhealthy I’ve been eating and how much money I’ve been throwing away. It’s just not a good look. Have I gotten better? Hell no. I just keep pushing each container until it hits the back of the refrigerator where it meets it’s untimely death and someone else ends up throwing it out. Forgive me, Father…

Condiment Crazy
I’m crazy about condiments. You name it, I have it. Ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, horseradish, relish, cock sauce (Sriracha), Cholula, Tabasco, wasabi, pickles, pickled ginger, pepperoncinis, soy sauce, fish sauce..just to name a few. And with the exception of the ketchup and mayonnaise, they’re all probably expired. But they look cute in the side door of the fridge and I don’t feel like throwing all those glass bottles out which in turn will make my trash bag heavier causing undue strain on my back when I’m forced to take the full bag out to the main garbage can. Makes sense, right?

Ok, maybe I’m a tad neurotic. I can deal with that…another time.
But for now, I gotta figure out what I’m going to wear to the P.F. Chang’s lettuce wrap memorial…

LAUNDRY LOVE

They say that there are 2 absolutes in life: death and taxes. I think they forgot one more..
LAUNDRY..

When you’re single, all you have to worry about is your dirty crap. If you don’t wash, then there’s no one to blame but yourself. You end up grabbing clothes out of your hamper or off the pile on your floor, smell ‘em, then wear ‘em! Or if you’re like a few guys I know, take your underwear, turn them inside out and you’re good to go. More often than not, single people will walk to their communal laundry room in their apartment complex, quarters in hand and load the washers/dryers and if they’re feeling really brave, leave for the cycle and come back when it’s done. I’ve tried that before. Yeah, I got brave…and when I came back, all my thong underwear was missing. Scary.

Then your single life laundry quickly translates into “couple” mode when you start co-habitating with your significant other. At first, it’s weird. As you witness him attempt to do the laundry, you think to yourself, “Do I really want him touching my stuff? Is he going to throw my delicates in with his jeans? I hope he doesn’t see my “period undies”. What detergent is he using? Why is he folding my stuff like that? That top doesn’t belong in the dryer!”

But it’s not any easier when you’re the one taking on the chore: “Does he not understand what INSIDE the hamper means? Why does he throw all his shit AROUND the hamper? Why does he leave his underwear inside his jeans? Even worse, rolls his jeans off so his underwear is caught up in them?!” And just when you think you have a good system going…

The co-habitation leads to offspring…

This is when you feel like those women in Third World countries that you see on T.V. with 50 baskets of clothes, washing and banging their laundry against a rock by the side of a stream. The clothes multiply with children in the house. Not only do you find dirty clothes in the hamper, the kids throw their clean clothes in because it’s easier than putting them back in their dresser. You’ll also find toys, Barbie shoes, teacher notes, gum (my favorite..esp when it makes to the dryer), hair clips and anything else they can fit into pockets or up their nose. This is the laundry stage when the Sock Ghost appears. No matter how good your kids are at putting everything into the hamper, the Sock Ghost always manages to steal one sock from at least 3 pairs. And do you think he’d swoop down and steal the “unimportant” socks? NOOOOOOO…. He has to take the socks from their favorite pairs. You know the kind I’m talking about…the socks that they love to wear…the socks that will cause hyperventilating tantrums and heart failure if not found. I’ve almost lost a kid to two to the evilness of the Sock Ghost. There really isn’t anything you can do to exorcise the Sock Ghost (believe me, I’ve tried the Holy Water and incense..no dice). So, accept it and move on.. .it’s just easier to keep your sanity.

Along with the Sock Ghost, comes his friend the Laundry Basket from Hell. Everyone has the laundry basket(s) that become makeshift drawers for the entire family and will sit in the same location until someone (usually mom) is forced to unload it to make room for the new clean clothes. The whole family will live out of the Laundry Basket from Hell because they’re too lazy to go through their dressers or closets for clean clothes. Instead, they rummage through all the neatly folded items in the Laundry Basket from Hell to find that pink Hollister t-shirt with the white lettering on it and leave a trail of mass destruction behind.

And what happens after that?

You re-fold, then place their clothes in their bedrooms where they will sit until needed. The clothes won’t get hung (unless mom does it). The clothes won’t get placed in their dresser (unless mom does it). Instead, they will sit on the bed and then slowly become part of the comforter. Your kid won’t acknowledge that nicely folded piece of laundry. Your kid will instead slide up underneath the covers and pretend that it doesn’t exist. This stage is when you also become “bad mom”. When your kids can’t find what they are looking for and they swore they threw it in the hamper, it’s “your fault”. You and the Sock Ghost are in cahoots to make your kid’s life a living hell by hiding that Justin Bieber concert t-shirt. Bad Mom….Bad, bad mom…

At this point, all you can do is grin and bear it.

Life still goes on…the sun will still rise…the sun will still set…and there will always be dirty underwear waiting for you.

I could go on and on..but I got a date with a Sock Ghost...

Baby Mama Drama...overrated.

Wikipedia defines BABY MAMA as the following: A baby mama (also baby-mama and baby-mother) is generally defined as a mother who is not married to her child's father, although the term often is used with other meanings as well.

After recently writing about the good and bad about fatherhood, I received numerous emails requesting my insight on Baby Mamas. When you think about Baby Mama Drama the first thing that pops into your head is the three-ring circus you see on Maury Povich or Jerry Springer with screaming people and paternity tests involving the baby’s dad, his brother, and his cousin. Yes, the media capitalizes off of it because society still has a fascination with other people’s misfortunes; viewers won’t change the channel because they want to find out of Tyrone is the father of little DeShawn and then in turn watch the Baby Mama fall to the floor or run out of the room when the results aren’t what she expected.

So, I thought long and hard about this subject because every situation is unique in it’s own and there is never one solution to end all issues with Baby Mamas. There are so many factors that play into Baby Mama Drama: the daddy, the mama, the girlfriend/current wife, the baby. But I decided to take the approach from my role as a life coach to many friends and offer a different view and give my advice to the girlfriend/current wife and the Baby Mama…

BABY MAMA..
First of all…kudos. Kudos to you for taking on the role of full-time parenthood. It’s one of the toughest jobs in the world. Hopefully you co-parent with your Baby Daddy to help make your world a little easier. And if you don’t, I’m sorry. Not all men step up to the plate like you’d hope. But I believe God never gives us more than we can handle and although every day can be a struggle, know that in your heart, you are raising a child that will always remember the sacrifices you’ve made when they grow up. I know it must be hard when you see a family together and you look down at your little one and feel as though you cheated him out of having the ‘perfect’ family by raising him in a single household. But you need to stop being so hard on yourself. Kids would rather have happy parents living apart than two who are together and completely miserable.

If you have a decent relationship with your Baby Daddy, that says A LOT about your character. It shows that you both have your child’s best interest at heart. You’re showing your child that you both respect each other, regardless of what drove you two apart and are BOTH on the same team when it comes to raising him/her.

Being Baby Mama doesn’t give you a hall pass to get involved in his love life whatsoever.
It is NONE of your business.
Part of having a decent relationship with Baby Daddy is also accepting the changes in his life when it comes to his new significant other. It’s a two way street. If you’ve moved on and are dating, more than likely, he is too. Should you at least know the person your child spends time around? Of course! Should you voice concerns? Of course! But that’s where it stops. He doesn’t owe you any explanation of their relationship. All that he owes you is the promise of care, guidance, respect and communication when it comes to your child. You should be able to trust his judgment when it comes to the child that you share together. And vice versa is true when it comes to your relationship. There is a reason you both aren’t together. Move on and use that energy towards making your relationship with each other more productive as well as your relationship with your new man.

Strive to become a better mother by becoming a better woman

Think about forming a cordial relationship with Baby Daddy’s girlfriend/wife. I’m not asking you to become best friends and hang out on the weekends. But go out of your way to show that you are a strong, confident, secure woman that doesn’t feel threatened by her. Make her feel that she’s important because she’s involved in your child’s life. Remember, she’s probably feeling just as threatened by you, as you are of her. And if Baby Daddy’s girlfriend/wife doesn’t budge…oh well! You know you’ve done your part and you move on knowing you’ve tried.

Do you find yourself taking things from the past and throwing them back in Baby Daddy’s face?
Stop it.
Stop it NOW.
It’s not solving anything and always makes the situation a lot worse. Refuse to go there. As much as you want to remind him of his shortcomings, stop yourself. I’m sure there’s a crapload of shortcomings he could throw your way, so think twice before you start hurling stones out of your little glass house. As long as you keep bringing up the past, you will never be able to move forward. You will continue to empower him by holding on to such intense negativity. Forgive him. Forgive yourself. Forgiveness is such a powerful thing. Life is short, get over it.

Your child is NOT a bargaining tool
Do not threaten your Baby Daddy by refusing to let him see his child when you’re upset with him regarding other issues. Again, think about what’s in your child’s best interest. Your child is not a weapon; as disappointed as you may be in Baby Daddy, do not get swept away by anger, rage and the desire to punish him.

You both brought life into this world
You both signed up for parenthood the minute you found out you were having a baby. For once…it is NOT about you. It’s about what is in the best interest of the child you share together. Put aside your differences and think about how every word, every action that emanates from your body is absorbed into the soul of your child. No one’s perfect. But strive every day to become a better parent…with all that you’ve got, choose to fully rise above the negativity. Its black or white, not a shade of grey, because when you love your child, there is no such thing as halfway.

Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of women out there that struggle to have that decent relationship with Baby Daddy, but it’s just near impossible because of circumstances beyond their control. But continue to move forward and refuse to let anyone steal your joy.

BABY DADDY GIRLFRIEND/WIFE…
I hate to say it, but you guys are always made out to be the bad guy. And it’s not very helpful when Baby Daddy tends to ignite the situation instead of offer solutions. But let me start by saying that when you got together with your man, you knew he had a child. And by becoming involved with him, this meant also being involved in the life of his child. This is not only an honor, but a huge responsibility. You know that along with the involvement with your man and his child comes Baby Mama in the package. And this is not always such an easy thing. So let me give you a little bit of insight into the role you play:

Congratulations on taking a step into the tough world of being #2.
Yeah..#2.
As long as you understand that his child will ALWAYS be his priority, you won’t enter this relationship with unrealistic expectations. I’m not saying this will be an easy task. It takes a secure woman to know who she is and where she stands and when to back off.

Being wifey/girlfriend doesn’t give you a hall pass to get directly involved in the raising of his child whatsoever.
Don’t give unsolicited advice and don’t try to put your two cents in. If there is an issue that affects you, discuss it with him. Your feelings are just as valid. For him, it can be hard to juggle such a sensitive situation.
Just be there.
Be there when he needs to vent.
Be there when he needs your shoulder.

As hard as it may be, do not bad mouth his Baby Mama, especially in front of their child.
It’s ugly, no one benefits from it and you just make yourself look like a bigger idiot. It’s a natural tendency to say things out of spite when it comes to the woman that used to have a life with your man, but go back to what your mama taught you, if you have nothing nice to say….

Keep in mind that Baby Mama has feelings and emotions like you
Remember that she actually loved your man at one time. It’s a hard pill to swallow when you think you’re going to marry your baby's daddy but end up a single parent… imagine the bitterness that can come when you’ve seen that he’s moved on. So, no need for jealousy on your part. It's his child who he loves, regardless of his relationship with the mother.When I said it was an “honor” to be involved in your man’s life with his child, I didn’t mean that lightly. You should be proud that he chose you; that he trusts you to share in the life of his child. And part of that honor is also the responsibility and acknowledgement of his eternal connection to his Baby Mama in some way, shape or form because of their child. As much as you wish she would disappear off the face of this earth, she's not going anywhere. So accept it. If you can’t, you need to cut your losses now and move on. Remember..it is not your job to get caught up in the “drama” .

Try and be her friend
Ok, you’re reading this and saying, “WTF?!” I know, I know…you’d rather have your toenails plucked off one by one than be her friend. But quite honestly, Baby Mama needs to be reassured that you aren’t trying to replace her. Acknowledge her bond between herself, the child, and your man. It can make all the difference knowing you took the time to recognize her relationship with them and reassure her that her child will still know who their mother is. Respect her role and be proud of yours.

Whether your Baby Mama or Baby Daddy’s girlfriend/wife, you need to continue to respect yourself and make sure to never lose sight of what’s important, and that is the welfare of the child involved.

Be open.
Be positive.
Be accepting.

You have the greatness to persevere, to forgive, to smile, to lift yourself and others up and to move on…

Be the one who makes the difference.

(this blog dedicated to llewelyn manzano…a nice baby daddy girlfriend)

Single Dads...

Alright, I know it’s so easy for come down on deadbeat dads. There are a ton of articles on absentee fathers and what they aren’t doing, what they should be doing and the effect on their children.


But how about the single dads that ARE stepping up to the plate?

Did you know that one-fifth of single parents today are single fathers -- more than 2 million of them.

I don’t think we do enough to acknowledge the good dads. We are so quick to focus on the negative when it comes to fatherhood and what the man isn’t doing and exploit that, but when it comes to the good that a man does for his child, no one really cares.

There are A LOT of good men out there that are single fathers that take care of business, as well as men that have stepped up to the plate to be a father to children that aren’t even biologically their own. And how about the men that have taken over as mom AND dad because mom wasn’t up to task?

I have many single dad friends that I respect because of the love and responsibility they have for their children. And yes, I’ll take the time to acknowledge them: Scott Taylor, Joey Rodriguez, Jack Gordon Mills, Marlon Derraco, Daryl Stamps, David Butler, Jeff Guadarrama, Jim Simunek, Brian Carbajal, Ramses King Taylor, Oliver Ware, Kevin Ratcliff, Landy Parce,and Deonne McBean.

They are empowering men. They are men that are role models not only to their sons, but to their daughters as well. They are men that still respect their “babies mamas” regardless of the situation that broke them up in the first place. They are men that will go without so that their children will have what they need. Not only are these men there physically, emotionally, spiritually, financially…but they actively participate in their children’s’ lives -- finger paints, bike rides, playing tag in the park, throwing the football around and reading bedtime stories. And as their children grow they’ll be there to witness: their first date… prom… graduation..marriage….

Being a father… being a dad... isn’t a privilege, it’s an honor. You only get to do this gig once in this lifetime.

And~

That same little hand you held from the minute they entered this world...

will be the same one you hold when you leave it….

It’s never too late to be a good dad.

Make today count…

An Open Letter to My Cousin's Father...

An Open Letter to My Cousin’s Father:

Wait, let me retract that…An Open Letter to My Cousin’s Sperm Donor:

I used to like you. I really did. You married my aunt, who I considered my sister, because of the close proximity of our age. We had a special bond. Everything that she felt, I felt. Every sorrow, every joy that she experienced..I experienced. Every milestone in each of our lives was celebrated immediately with each other over the phone. And when she found out she was pregnant, she was nervous…but excited to bring this beautiful being made by you two into this world. I shared in this joyous news and you seemed to be equally excited…at the time.

When your son finally entered this world, everything changed. My aunt’s life no longer revolved around you. You were no longer #1. You were no longer catered to. You were no longer the center of attention. You couldn’t handle that. And although she still struggled to make you feel important and loved, it was never enough. You started to withdraw…you started to lie…and your needs became more important than your family. Even when you were around, you were still absent.

When you weren’t up to the task of being a husband and father, did it feel good to walk out the door and not look back? Did it feel good to charge up all the credit cards with purchases for your skanky girlfriend before you left? Did you just never feel good enough because your wife was an intelligent, college-educated woman? It’s funny though,your son didn’t seem to notice when you left. I guess you had to drop to your level and mess with the barely-getting-G.E.D. skank that you must’ve picked up at the local carnival…and then end up marrying her at a local Texas Chuck E. Cheese-like entertainment center before the ink on your divorce was dry.

You’ve always been one for timing, right?

You fought so hard for visitation and custody for your child during your divorce. You were such a great actor. You wanted people to think that you were doing the “right” thing; that you were looking out for your child’s best interest...but it was all a show; Academy Award worthy. In the beginning, you picked him up like clockwork (that was part of the script, right?) and then slowly but surely, the visits became far and less between. You always had an excuse for not showing up. (I hope you put “excuse-maker/liar” on your resume when you lost your job and used my aunt as a reference, she’d totally vouch for you). But my aunt knew you too well. She never told my cousin about your scheduled visits to pick him up because she knew better. She knew that you wouldn’t show. And the last thing she wanted to do was break his heart.

You know what you don’t realize? You don’t realize how much my aunt does to save face when it comes to your child. I know it’s hard for her not to call you a fucking asshole and to tell your son that you’re a loser. You know what she does? She makes excuses for you in order to save him from a world of hurt if he knew the truth. When it comes to your whereabouts, she does her best to conjure up some undeserving excuse for your absence. She knows you think he’s an inconvenience. You’d rather spend time with your step-daughter than with your own flesh and blood. You let your carnival wife dictate every move in your life which in turn affects your son. You go for months not seeing him, not calling him and then wonder why he looks at you with the warmth he would a total stranger. And when it comes to special occasions, you’re predictable. You got him the same thing for his birthday this year as you did last year..nothing. You're always asking for your child support to be cut down so that you can support your trailer park lifestyle. And even though you barely pay enough, my aunt makes it work. She sacrifices so that your son has whatever his heart desires. But, YOU are the one that’s supposed to be his hero and set the example. YOU were the one that was to provide for the family and keep him safe. That's what daddy's do. They’re supposed to be there through the good times and the bad times.

Not only did you lose your way...you lost a good woman.

But good riddance for her. God is going to bring her a MAN that steps up to the plate and treats her like a queen. This MAN will love your child and put his needs first. Your son will have a father that plays ball with him, takes him to the movies, helps him with his homework, takes him camping, plays in the park, or just sits with him and holds him. Who knows? She just might have that going on already.

You know..it's really hard for me to hold back and not print your name so that everyone knows that you're a piece of shit. But..I'm not going to use my blog to waste space and acknowledge your name that your son will forever carry. Everyone that knows me..knows of you...and that's enough for me.

Just so you know, you’re really missing out on a wonderful person. Your son is so smart and loving. He has a smile that can light up a room and at nine years of age, has an infectious personality that can capture anyone's heart. You need to thank his mom. She's raising such an amazing boy that will someday change the world.

I hope that one day, when my cousin looks back at the pictures of you holding him as a baby, he knows, that at one time..

you loved him…

and that at one time…

you would conquer the world for him…

Smile Now, Cry Later~ My Relationship with my Bathroom Scale

There aren’t too many things in life that I have a love/hate relationship with. But my relationship with my bathroom scale probably ranks right up there with my love/hate relationship with my thighs. Since I started working out and losing weight I’ve become obsessed with my scale. Oh, it’s not one of those funny, ha-ha obsessions; it’s an unhealthy one.

I drag my $19.98 Wal-Mart digital scale out every morning I wake up. Of course, first I pee to make sure I get rid of any water weight. I carefully place the scale on my tile and slowly get on. If I don’t like the number I go through the whole rigmarole:
1. Take a dump. Nothing like cleaning the pipes, right? Rid myself of any unwanted waste and the chicken pita from the night before
2. Do a few jumping jacks
3. Scoot the scale onto a different floor tile and another and another
4. Log my weight in my handy-dandy journal that I keep in my vanity

Does it work?

Hell no! I usually end up weighing more than I did before I took a crap and did the jumping jacks!

It’s so frustrating. Maybe it was better when I didn’t care about my weight. I used to go to my annual gynecologist appointment and dread the whole weigh-in. I’d sit in the lobby with all the other women and think about that stupid medical scale. When the nurse would finally call my name after 2 ½ hours, she’d go through her whole spiel:

“Hi, Sandra. How are you today? If you wouldn’t mind hopping on this scale so that I can get your weight and then I’ll get your blood pressure…”

I place my purse on the chair next to the scale and proceed to take off my heels, my necklace, bracelets, earrings, watch, wipe off any excess blush, brush out any added hairspray and remove my nail polish that might interfere with my true weigh-in. If I could get butt-naked in the hallway, I would. I stand on the scale and tell the nurse:

“Umm, I am going to turn away while you take my weight. I do NOT want to hear you sigh. I do NOT want to hear the scraping of that big ass square weight slide across the metal that alerts me that you need to add more lbs to the scale. I do NOT want to hear your pen write the 3 digit numbers on my file. I do NOT want to know what my weight is. Just smile and return the metal square thing on the scale back to it’s original position when you’re done. And by the way, when was the last time the Department of Executive Administration Weights and Measures came by to conduct an inspection on this particular scale??”

A bit drastic? Not to me.

I sit down and she takes my blood pressure. She tells me that my blood pressure is a little high. NO KIDDING? After placing my fat ass on the scale, my blood pressure probably won’t go back to normal for at least a few hours.

So, as you can see…it’s been a turbulent relationship-me & my scale. I try and keep the healthy mind-set of ‘As long as I look and feel good, who cares what the numbers are’. Yet, there are those mornings that I want to take the scale and fling the damn thing out the window…

but then…

I’d have one less thing to complain about.

An Open Letter to My Vagina...

As most of you know by now, I'm pretty open when it comes to my body parts and all the primping and upkeep that I speak so freely about. But when I came across an article about 'Vaginal Trainers' in this month's Cosmopolitan, I thought it was a joke. Yes, there really are V.T.'s out there that will help get your vagina in tip top shape! It's not enough that we're forced to do Kegel's to keep those muscles in shape, but now we have weight sets? This article moved me to write an open letter. Yes, an open letter to my vagina....

Dear Vagina,

I hope you know how lucky you are that you have an owner that takes such good care of you. When I was young lass, I would jokingly refer to you as the 'front butt' or 'pee-pee' or if I wanted to go back to my ethnic roots, 'chocha' or 'pek-pek'. You weren't of much use to me back then, you were what you were.

Then puberty hit...

I didn't want you to grow hair. I think it was partly because I knew that it meant I was leaving my Barbies and cartoons behind and now entering the world of bras, boys and pads (ugh).

I resisted.. but you insisted. And you started to sprout hair every which way you could. The once lovely, pristine patch of skin was now overtaken by an ugly, wirey sparse rug of hair. I was scared to shave you because of all the horror stories about hair coming back 3x thicker. But as time passed, so did my wrath against womanhood.

I knew the time had come to embrace you; because with you came boobies....yay!

I remember when you decided it was time for me to have my first period. I was turning 13 and you couldn't wait until I was at home or maybe in the shower. No..you waited until I was walking on the balance beam playing around behind the school with my friend, Cheryl Delz. She noticed the rust colored spot on my jeans and informed me of my impending doom.

"WHAT?! No! I can't start. I'm athletic, I'm skinny, I'm too young to start my period!! I probably held my pee in for too long!"

I was in denial.

But you remained adamant.

You insisted I move into the next stage in my life.

I know you hated being suffocated by the pillow-size pads that my mother insisted on buying me. And God forbid if I asked her about tampons. Tampons were for 'non-virgins' and I'd "rupture my hymen" if I tried sticking a tampon in you. Girls were dying all over the world from Toxic Shock Syndrome! (Mom had a way of being a little over dramatic). I hated going to the store to get the big, orange box of Freedom pads. There was no way to be discreet when you were at the grocery store. The big ass box took up half the shopping cart and I always prayed that I wouldn't run into any cute boys from school when we lugged around this box of pads with a graphic on the front of a woman in a flowing dress running on a beach; that cheesy picture will forever be imprinted in my brain.

The teen years came and gone. And as the years passed I became more comfortable with you. Sure, I know there were times when I was a teen when you felt you were ready to take that big step and leave the 'V-Squad' (Virgin Squad), but I held onto my morals and didn't let that happen too early. It wasn't easy. Oh boy..it wasn't easy...but I knew you were too precious to give away to just anyone. And when that time finally did come, I made sure the it was right and that you, along with my heart, would walk away unscathed. I know it wasn't all that it was made out to be...it was my first time..and yeah, I agree..it pretty much sucked.

I was so proud of you when the time to have babies came around. You refused to let me go to the operating room and have my gut cut open. You insisted that you were going to help me push these 10lb babies out naturally. I worried that you'd be stretched out forever...that you'd never go back to normal...that sex would be like throwing a hotdog down a hallway. But you again, you didn't dissapoint me. You regained your strength (and some muscle, I might add).

When I decided that I wanted to change you around a bit and chose to introduce you to Brazilian bikini waxing, I know you were nervous. But I could tell you were excited and impressed by the end results. You looked like a new 'you'. You had the option of the "Playboy"- clean cut and bald or the "Landing Strip" (aka as The Hitler)...and you looked glamourous either way. You could pull both looks off and I was rather impressed. You were red-carpet worthy.

As I've gotten older, I've also tried to keep you in shape. No,I haven't resorted to the vaginal weight set. But I do the Kegels when I'm at a redlight. I hope you've noticed how strong and more limber you've become. I think I see some definition forming!

The whole concept behind this letter to you, was one of gratitude. I also want you to know that I will always have your back. I will never let you down. I will never let you look like Chewbacca from Star Wars or subject you to any piercings. I will never, ever suffocate you with XXL pads again (Tampax Pearl tampons are the best, don't you think?) or ever wear cameltoe jeans to irritate you.

I hope you appreciate all the effort that I put into you to make you look snazzy and feel your best.

We only get one vagina in life...and I'm glad you're mine.

Self Nurturing~ The Art of Being Good to ME...

I recently attended a women's empowerment seminar and learned a lot about "Self Nurturing".

As a mother, this word was foreign to me. I really couldn't comprehend the actual nurturing of myself. I mean, really... my family came first and if there was a miniscule of time left, it didn't go to me. It went to other areas of life that needed tending to (i.e. baked goods for school, Girl Scout meetings, science projects). But for the last 8 months, I've been trying to carve out that "me" time...

Alice Domar, Ph.D. defined self-nurture as "caring for yourself and putting yourself amongst your own list of priorities." Right away, we automatically think about how selfish a behavior that would be. But...why is it selfish to want to be happy and to take care of yourself and your needs? Stress, right now, is the number one problem cited by American women, mostly because balancing work and family is so hard. And when we juggle them, we leave ourselves last which takes a huge toll on our mental and physical health.

Self Nuture. That's what I've started doing 8 months ago. I've dedicated time to myself to get back in shape, reconnect with close friends and just take that 'breather' that I need. I'm not a party animal on the weekends by any stretch of the imagination, but I've been carving out time, every couple of months to fly out to my hometown, San Diego to see my family and friends...solo. Even for just a couple of days, I truly appreciate that alone time. I think it's made me a better person with a more appreciative, more grateful view on life.

It's hard amidst all the chaos of our daily family routine to find restorative moments that can be squeezed into the schedule. But, I'm much more conscious about my life and find myself deep in thought about what will help me get through this time better, what my needs are, and what I can do for myself the next day. Even something short and very simple, like my drive home from work listening to my iPod, can help me regroup.

I get very emotional when I think about this "perfect person" that I've been struggling to be all my life: the perfect wife, the perfect mom, the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect friend. And it's still a struggle to give myself some compassion instead of pretending to be strong all the time. I stop myself during these moments and I think about what's worked in the past to make me feel better~ calling a friend, watching a funny movie... I think about what recharges me and brings out my strength. And when I think about it..it is my San Diego getaways that I do by myself. For a few days, I don't have to worry about anyone but myself. I don't have to bathe anyone, cook, clean or break up fights. I don't have to clean up dog poo or do laundry. For those few days, I can be irresponsible (to an extent). But most of all, I feel like I'm giving myself the gift of time, and I really enjoy it...and I'm blessed to have it.

The catch? The catch is that to find that time, and then take it, we need to believe we deserve it -- and the bottom line, it seems to me, is that we must. I was always the one saying, "I'll take some time after they get out of school.." or "When things slow down at work, I'll do that...." Postponing self-care until "life calms down" can mean a very long wait.

And life is too short.

I truly believe the words of Dr. Alice Domar, "From my experience, you are not the best mother, daughter, wife, sister or friend if you have depleted yourself. When you feel exhausted, resentment starts to build up, and your loved ones can sense it. . Taking "you" time is crucial and should be guilt free.."

In the end, it's not selfish to do what allows us to continue giving to others.

It's not selfish to treat ourselves with the same thoughtfulness we show those we love.

When I'm doing for myself, every cell of my being is fully alive...and nothing could make me give it up.

I owe to my family....

but most of all, to myself.

An Open Letter to All The After School Moms with Shitty Attitudes

"..You say High Maintenance like it's a bad thing..."




Dear After School Moms with the Shitty Attitudes:

Do I care about the way I look?
Yes.
Do I try and dress in things that flatter me?
Absolutely.
Do I love my shoe and purse collection?
Ab-so-freaking-loutely.
Do I give credit to other women when I see them "put together"?
Totally!

But you know what pisses me off? When I get looks from you After School Mothers that pick up your kids when I do. What "looks" you might ask?

Well...

Let me get up on my soapbox for a minute, because I really have to get this off my chest (and if I offend you, I'm sure you'll get over it)...

It never fails. I will always get the "look" from you After School Moms. You know the "look" that comes so easily to you~ the one-eye-brow-up...the full body scan from head to toe...the neck roll from side to side...the pursed lips...the non-smile...the avoidance of any eye contact.

You After School Moms fit a certain profile, too. You are the ones that are unkept, sloppy and wear your husband's sweatpants. You are the women who are 250+ lbs and wear your greasy hair in a ponytail. You are the women wearing the Wal-Mart flip-flops with dirty feet and pizza-stained Nascar t-shirts and waist purses. You are the women that volunteer for every freaking school function and then try and make the working moms feel bad when they can't make it to the class Play-doh party.

I cannot tell you how much effort I put into being social and nice just to break the ice with you women and I just can't make any headway. So then I choose to dissect your psyche...

Maybe you're unhappy with your life.
Maybe you feel that being healthy and clean is not a priority.
Maybe it's easier to be unfriendly.
Maybe you're upset because your baby daddy doesn't even acknowledge your presence
Maybe you feel threatened by a woman who can balance a family AND career and STILL take the time to look good.

But don't be mad at me because you've given up on yourself.

I think women, especially mothers, need to come together and be more supportive of one another. I don't think we take the time to acknowledge each other like we should or give compliments like we should.But we are so quick to be so judgmental and critical of one another.

And such is life...

I will continue to smile like I always do (even when you look away). I will continue to acknowledge your presence (even if I am invisible to you) and I will continue to wear my Christian Louboutin heels (even if you are flopping around in your Walmart flip flops with the Tweety Bird plastic character).

I will continue to be the woman my daughters look up to and respect and want to be like.

I am not claiming to be better than you, I'm just claiming to be me.

And I kinda feel bad for you, because you're really missing out on a pretty nice person....


Sincerely,
The Smiling Mom with the red-bottom shoes

Sriracha-cha-cha!

PARENTS, TAKE NOTE:

Your children are ALWAYS listening. Oh, they act like they aren't..but they really are. Behind that Dr. Suess book they act like they're reading- they're really listening. When playing their Nintendo DS- they're really listening. When watching The Wizards of Waverly Place- they're listening. They have supersonic hearing that starts at birth and grows in sensitivity as they enter "tween-hood"...

Let me use an example and let you decide if you change your mind about watching what you say around the kiddos..

We love taking the kids to Pita Jungle. Great, healthy, menu with lots of choices. The staff is friendly, the place clean and the food comes almost instantaneously. Part of enjoying our food is squeezing the Sriracha chili sauce on everything. The bottle is dark red with a green spout and rooster on the bottle. Because I can't seem to ever pronounce 'sriracha' correctly, I always privately joke about calling it "cock sauce" because of the rooster on the label.

Unbeknownst to me, Mia would continually hear me refer to the tasty sauce in this manner. She loves the hot sauce and is actually the one at the table that uses it the most. Well, on a recent outing to Pita Jungle she decided to order for herself:

"Could I please have the pita with chicken and a side of spinach? Oh, and could I please get some cock sauce?"


Umm, yeah...

Just so you know, the correct pronunciation for Sriracha is SEE-rah-chah...and the whole family now knows how to say it.

And remember, the kids are ALWAYS listening!

Booty Pop

Call me gullible.

I just had to order them.

I want a Kim Kardashian ass.

I don't want to pay $11,000 for an ass implant, but I will pay $20 for a pair of panties that give me that "lift" I need.

Yes, I gave in and ordered the BOOTY POP undies.

You're probably wondering WTF?

Let me give you a quick recap on how this went down....

My friend Jaclyn McGill, always complained about not having a butt. She is 5'9, 110lbs and beautiful, but always complained about not having enough junk in her trunk. Recently we had lunch together with some friends and she spoke about how she received BOOTY POP as a gift. At first, I didn't know what she was referring to...a candy? A music video? A porno?

After our lunch I went back to the office and googled Booty Pop and I was pleasantly surprised to see a cute pair of panties with shapely butt padding! So..I didn't stop there. I am a researcher at heart and continued to delve deeper into reviews on this product. Everything came back positive. Then I saw a video clip of the women on The View talk about it and Kelly Ripa try it out. (Ok, Kelly Ripa is what sold me on it). I logged onto bootypop.com and watched the infomercial. The girls looked amazing in jeans wearing booty pop. I wanted to look like that! No amount of working out and doing lunges is gonna give me an ass like that!

So I'm cheating. I'm buying a pair. And the best part, I get one free!

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate my ass. I come from an Asian/Latino background. Unfortunately, I was blessed with the Asian ass, which means it's pretty much non-existent. No offense to my mother, but I would've much rather had the Latina ass in exchange for the thighs and hips. I do have a "bump"...just not a nice, plump one; a biteable one..a la Kim K. I want a video chick ass like the ones you see in rap videos. I want the ass that "...swallows up a g-string..." (ok, ok..maybe not THAT big).

I'll let you know how they work out.

If worse comes to worse, I can always use them as padding when I take up snowboarding....

Mia & Sofia's Conversation of the Day...

Sofia: Ewww, I have a uni-brow! It looks like a caterpillar!

Mia: Don't worry, when you get older, you can get it waxed like mommy does her pee-pee.

Wiener on Parade!

So it's the typical elementary school program. All the parents show up with their cameras, video recorders, Blackberries, iPhones, etc. to tape their little munchkin sing the well-versed medley of America's favorites: a remix of It's a Grand Ol' Flag with a touch of America the Beautiful peppered with The Star Spangled Banner. The music teacher is a flustered mess as she races from one part of the stage to the other. The usual cast of characters take their place on stage: the crying kid, the kid that won't keep his hands to himself, the clean kid that looked like she just stepped out of a Nordstrom catalog, the booger eater and the mannequin kid (you know that kid, the one with the eyes wide open and lips sealed shut that don't move).

Of course my 6 year-old, with the stage presence of Oprah Winfrey and the charismatic voice of Celine Dion, is in the front row singing her heart out void of shyness. This is the same kid, when at home, asked what she was singing for the program responds with a disinterested, "I don't know" or "I don't remember" and runs off to tackle the dog.

The show continues and the 2nd graders now enter and partake in the familiar sounds of patriotic hymns. And, like the 1st graders, the cast of characters aren't too different: crying kid and mannequin kid are on stage along with booger eater...but now throw in wiener boy*.

Yes, it is EXACTLY what you are thinking. Let me paint the scenario...

The 2nd graders are on stage doing their rendition of It's a Grand Ol' Flag and I see a boy on stage fumbling around with his pants and messing around with his zipper.

At first I thought, "Ok, the kid is just nervous, he doesn't know what to do with his hands..."

Then he started fidgeting and pulled his zipper down.

"Ok, maybe he's fixing his underwear..."

Then, in a Matrix-like, slo-mo fashion, he whips it out.

Yes... he pulls out his wiener.

And continues to sing loudly in his most patriotic voice while his little baloney pony stands at attention.

Parents who were sitting in the front row flew up in a rage to grab a teacher nearby to yank wiener boy off the stage. The teacher was oblivious to Admiral Winky & the Twins coming out for the show. So, wiener boy was pulled off the stage instantaneously and whisked away like a criminal...

Enter wiener boy's dad.

Wiener boy's dad races towards the teacher demanding to know why his son was pulled from the program. While I didn't hear the conversation...his facial expressions said it all. He made a beeline to the back of the auditorium where wiener boy was sequestered for the rest of the show.

The parents who had front row seats to the shenanigans were so up in arms and talking about how awful it was. But.. you know what? I thought it was fricking hilarious.

Inappropriate? Yeah, ok...

But I'm chalking this up to this kid "being a boy". Yeah, he's 7 years old and old enough to know better and ok, hold him accountable by punishing him appropriately....but then...let it go.

I don't think this kid premeditated anything. He wasn't at home before the show strategically planning on how he could display his frank & beans and piss people off.

Sometimes in life, we just gotta learn to laugh and not take life too seriously.

This kid could very well be our next president.

If not, his parents will always have a funny story to tell...

*name has been changed to protect the very embarrassed parents of wiener boy