Subscribers OVERBOARD!

Well hello there. How are you all? I'm hearing from manymany of you that when I moved I lost you if you were subscribed through feedburner and ya know what, I'm not opposed to begging. Please come on over to http://www.dialmforminky.com/
and resubscribe, please? Pretty please? I miss your faces.

What are you doing here?

Hey guys...I've moved! Come visit me!
http://dialmforminky.com/2010/06/the-randomness-and-the-swoon/

What're ya doing here?

Come on over to the new digs Dial M for Minky: Motherhood & Mimosas!  I've done my first v-log. Come mock me support me!

And away we go!

Tonight this little ol blog goes on the road! So, check back tomorrow for a brand new post and a new look! The URL remains the same http://www.dialmforminky.com/ but the server will be different, so please be sure to update your readers!
I hope to be able to reply to comments and be more interactive with you on the new site! I'm also going to do my first *gulp* giveaway and *utter panic* VLOG!

Oh, and did you think I forgot about the prize for the top book reader at We Give Books? I didn't!

There's some cool things in the works, and of course more of The Boss, TOTT, Puppy Bear and my utter dorkitude brewing. I'm so excited I can barely stand it. Sigh. I do love blogging!

The Moving Van is here....

{source}

It's time y'all. Time to pack up this dog and pony show and move it on over to a brand new spiffy place. Like Oz.

I can't wait! I hope you all will join me and will like the new design. Every time I look at it I get happy. I can't wait to get all set up and move in full time. And also, I hope I can figure out all the bells and whistles at wp. Eek!

I hope you stick with me for the fun and games!

I leave you with this, from the ever practical Mommy-McGuyver Dub:

I call that muti-useful. Indeed. And I do hope you will all joing me at

http://www.dialmforminky.com/

for more

Motherhood &Mimosas!

Cookie dough is like a pregnancy test

When I was trying to get pregnant (and by trying I mean, decided to have a baby, took a trip to Italy, lit a bunch of candles and came home pregnant) I bought a three pack of pregnancy tests. When I got home from Italy I knew- knew I was pg, and yet when I took that first test it came up negative.

I was devastated.
The next day and the next test provided the same result.

But that third test, it was just sitting in the bathroom cabinet, just sitting there. Taunting me with it's non-taken-ness and I just had to take it and be done with it so I could move on and be not pregnant for another month.
But then...so faint it was barely visible to the naked eye was a second line. A line. I rushed out and bought three more tests, and then three more and finally one of those overpriced 1 in 5 women can misread a pregnancy test (say whaaa?) tests. You know the one...the one that says in big letters PREGNANT.

It was glorious.

This past week I made The Boss some of Auntie Keek's (Keek. Boss speak combo for Kelly and CAKE) awesomelicious egg free cookie dough. It's my PMS fav and the little dude had a rough week so a treat was in order.
It goes a little something like this:

Blend together:
1/2 cup butter
1 cup flour
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 tbsp water
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp salt

Stir in 1/2 cup chocolate chips.

You're welcome.

(typing that out I realize I used a tablespoon and a half of vanilla. Oops! My bad. It was delish though!)

The Boss and I had a lovely snack of it. And the next day we did as well. Then...then he went off to dream land. But that cookie dough was just sitting there in the refigerator. Just sitting there. Taunting me with it's non-eaten-ness. I just had to eat it and be done with it so I could move on and not eat it for another month until I caved and made it again.
But then...so quietly no one in the house knew,  I ate a bite. And then three more bites. And then three more. And then I finished it all off.

It was glorious.

So you see, cookie dough is just like a pregnancy test. It will taunt you until you give in. Resistance is futile.
Plus both a baby and the cookie dough will give you a belly. And both will make you really happy.

Wordless Wednesday ~Now with words!

Welcome to my second instalment of From Totally Geek to Totally Chic!

I do believe it's official. I am obsessed with yard sale furniture and painting or refinishing it. I want the world to look like Anthropologie, but I don't want to pay that much. Know what I'm saying? I scour over fabulous decorating blogs and wish I could do that! My first foray turned out pretty good, so this weekend I took the plunge and conquered not one, but two projects.

I have a metric ton of jewelry. No, it's not all real, I love costume jewelry -again taking after my grandmother {dag nabbit!} I've got a fabulous collection of what I lovingly refer to as Mrs. Roper necklaces. Clearly my formative years were spent pining over John Ritter and thinking Mrs Roper could really work that MuuMuu.

So, this metric ton of jewelry has had no place to live but tucked in many little boxes, dishes, and dresser drawers. Let's just say I call on St. Anthony to find my engagement ring more often than my iphone.

and you know that's a lot.

Mumsy (my mom) had asked for some suggestions as to what I would like for my upcoming *cough* 28th birthday. I want a jewelry chest, said I. But once I hopped on ye olde internet, I realized that they were crazy ridonkulous money and also I didn't love any of them.

Enter the decorating blogs. And my new lovah: craigslist. Right at the tippy top was JEWELRY CHEST $75 bucks. I offered her 30. Thinking she might go to 60. Lucky me! She accepted my 30 bones and TOTT and I were off to pick up my Jewelry Dream House ala Barbie.

I wish I'd taken a picture of the before but it was this one right here:

faboo, non?

I said to TOTT, I want this to look like it could be a display case at Anthro. If I was a braver sort, I would have gone with a color, but as it was Lauren (Dude. Lauren the Waitress, Lauren the Paint Expert.Wild.) at Home Depot hooked me up! She taught me how to do what was in my head and off I went to do it.

And for my first try, I think I did mighty well! Plus? Auntie Keek took one look at it and said "It looks like a display case at Anthro! LOVE!' (no, she was not coached and no I didn't pay her. But I would have)

I was so drunk with happiness I decided to takle this beast- totally worth the $20 bucks I paid for it- and make it into a night table (for now) when we move I will put the top back on it and move it to a bathroom or a kitchen.

And so {for now} it shall live here and look like this:

So, who has something the need painted because I am DRUNK with painting power and I just want to redo everything.  It's such a blast!

What are your favorite decorating blogs?

Dear Iphone,

Dear iPhone,

I have been meaning to talk to you for a while, although this weekends events have changed the tone of this letter. You see, you and I have recently been fighting. A lot. Maybe we're too close? I don't know, but things that didn't bother me when we first got together have recently become almost unbearable.

For one thing, you dissapear for hours at a time and I can't find you. I page you...but you don't answer. And don't say it's MY fault because I always have you on silent. Not everything can by my fault y'know. Can't you please just stick by me? I mean we made a vow, for at least two years, and we've got several months left in our union. If losing you was a drinking game I would be drunk everyday.

For another thing,  I know you think it's really funny, but for reals it's not. Stop flipping back and forth between landscape and portrait. I'm not moving at all...stop flipping! I know you get an even bigger laugh at my expense when I do desperately try to move you to catch up. I'm sure it's really funny, how I look like a grandma playing Super Mario Brothers. Leaning to the left does not make Mario go to the left any more than it makes you hold still.

Despite all of this, I think I owe you an apology. The other day I was so annoyed over my futile Cholula quest...(seriously Cholula, why are you more elusive than the holy grail?) I hopped out of the car and raced in the house, grumpier than Snow White's 5th dwarf. After dinner I realized I couldn't find you, and I looked. I did. But you dissapear so frequently these days, I didn't worry too much.I'm sort of used to it. Really, I just hopped on the computer and then went to bed watching the lightening and listening to the thunder rolling in and the rain hitting the window. It was a great storm.

In the morning I awoke desperate to find you. I was in a panic, frantically looking everywhere. Where were you? Did anyone text me? I knew you must be starved, your battery nearly worn out. I looked all over the house, finally setting out on the damp driveway making my way to the car.

It was then that I spied you. Oh no. You lay facedown in the grass like a college freshman. Soaking wet from the rain. I fell to the ground beside you, cradling you in my arms saying a prayer over you. I gently pushed the button and you feebly fluttered your eyes.

You awoke. It was like a Christmas miracle! In May. I warmed you and dried you off as best I could then gave you the sustanance you craved. I can't believe you came back to me without so much as a scratch!

I apologize, for not seeing how truly special you are. I'll try not to get bogged down in the annoying habits that a long term loving couple develops. Instead, I'll think of you waiting out the rainstorm, fighting to get back to me.

Let's play Words With Friends for a while, and then whaddya say I take ya somewhere special. How about the Apple store? Would you like a new protective case? Let's get you something pretty.
It would be great if you could stop that annoying flipping thing though. And I'll try to stop dropping you so much. Deal?

Love,
Minky

God Bless America My Home Sweet Home

Happy Memorial Day ! {?}

{source}

Isn't it odd how a holiday that mourns and honors our fallen has morphed into welcoming summer with barbeques, picnics and parades?

I know some people feel this is disrespectful but I feel that it's fitting. After all, truly, is there anything more truly American than kids running around, neighbors and friends meeting up and talking, everyone getting out of the house to grill up some {veggie} burgers and bust out the watermelon?

{None for me thanks I'm allergic. Yes, to watermelon. It's a total tragedy.}

Anyway, isn't that America at it's finest? The simplicity of summer, of children's laughter, the smell of food wafting through the neighborhood...fantastic parades, and the music! oh, I am a sucker for a good march.

To me, this is the American way of life at it's best. For all of us. Color, creed, religion. None of it matters. Everyone loves to hear their child laugh, to feel the warmth of the sun soaking in to our winter-fied bones, our eyes drinking in all the colors of the grass, now green, and the flowers. It's glorious, isn't it?

To me, this is what our men and women died for. To me this is American. And every child's laugh today is like a bell giving an angel his/her wings. Every joyous laugh from a child lifts a soldier up.

The willingness to give up your very life - to leave your children, your home - to go across the world to fight for freedom. Sometimes, not agreeing with the fight, but believing in the ideals of freedom itself. This, this idealism, this bravery is breathtaking.

So, to those who served and serve still, thank you.

To those who have lost loved ones, my heart aches for you, my soul thanks you for your sacrifice. May my son's giggles tomorrow heal your heart, just a little bit, as his first popsicle drips down his chin and onto his new All American Boy t-shirt, know that while we are laughing and smiling and enjoying the day we know, I know, that the sacrifice your loved ones made is what protects this...this beautiful day where we all stop and smell the apple pie.

They did not give their lives in vain.

We will be attending the parade, and as The Boss grows up, he will learn about the day and why it is a Holiday. His great grandfathers fought in WW2 and his Bob-Bob served in the army during Vietnam. By the grace of God, they all survived. We are so grateful.
By relishing the sun and the celebrations, please know that I haven't forgotten your service, your sacrifice, I honor it. I honor it by enjoying the very things your loved one died for, the things your loved one loved too.

There are no words in the English language, nor I suspect in any known tongue on this earth, to convey my thanks, my gratitude, my very soul filled love and appreciation for you. All of you. Those who serve. Those who are families of those who serve...for you serve too.

And lastly, for those who died. Bless you. Bless you. Bless you.


And God Bless America.

Forget Moms Clubs, It's all about MOMZSHARE!

Dare I say I am beginning to make a life here in the D.C. Metro area? I think I am. One of the things that has helped quell my insane homesickness for the land of breast implants and Lohan court dates is Momzshare. Momzshare is the brainchild of Lara from Chicken Nuggets of Wisdom and Jennifer from Hip as I Wanna Be. Check those hot chicks out because it is no exaggeration to say that the two of them have made the DC Metro area a lot more like home for me.


I tried the moms club route and was met with, how to say this nicely, the cold shoulder. Well harumph right back at ya! I don't need you! I've got 80 brilliant funny and fabulous bloggers to hang with! If you are in the DC Metro area I seriously recommend you join us! I can guarantee you a good time.


This past Saturday's Momzshare was held at The Little Gym in Silver Spring, MD. How fun! I can't wait to take Max there. I was only sad we didn't really get to swing on the uneven bars. Although we did have wine, so perhaps it was a wise choice to prevent 80+ tipsy mommy bloggers (and non moms too!) from going crazy on the kids equipment! I kid - we were very well behaved. I had a great time chatting with several of the girls I had met before and met many more funny women who I may or may not be currently blog stalking. The concept of Momzshare is to get fabulous women together for networking and fun...and maybe to do a little good. So while we were all buying raffle tickets  for fantabulous prizes like crazy amounts of awesomeness from BitMoms and La Papillion Spa while scarfing down cupcakes and vegan soup (oh, asparagus soup...I've been dreaming of you!) we were actually giving money to Team Why Mommy.




It was a great time from start to finish. Great food, great women, great conversation. Won't you join us next time? Cause for reals, wild horses couldn't keep me from the next Momzshare!


Lauree from SimplyLeap spoke to us about finding our passions. It's always interesting when you have to boil it down to one word what you are really passionate about.





What's your one word?




(see this? random background? that would be why I'm moving. wth! and no...no, I've not highlighted it.)

The curious case of the toddler and the porn-like music.

Last night as I did the stand and sway, nursing my little cherub to sleep- which is getting more difficult by the day, they grow so fast - The Boss reached a up a sweet chubby little hand, placed in on my cheek and said "Baby Mine".

Swoon.

One more round of Baby Mine on the house little one! As his eyes fluttered, fighting sleep, he popped off blinked his big blue eyes at me and said:

Bow chicka bow wow!

Um. Excuse me? I asked, what did you say?

Bow chicka bow woooooooow, Mommy!

I kissed his goose egged forehead and went downstairs hoping and praying that my mother in law and sister in law, who both were cheerleaders had taught him the Booma Chicka Boom cheer.  Nope. Neither one had, although they vowed to do so.

Next up I cornered the men in the fam...the likeliest suspects, non? Who on earth, said I, has been exposing my child to porn, or at the very least terrible cheesy porn-like music?!

Shakespeare really should have written "Hell hath no fury like a mother who thinks someone has shown her baby something innapropriate". Although, that doesn't have quite as good a ring to it.

The boys faces quickly paled and both denied any such thing, of course. They never would do such a thing. (for real, they NEVER would do something. This child is so very loved and protected, I always say to him that I wish all babies in the world were as loved as he is) I may have been a little, how you say, irrational? And craving chocolate like a crack whore craves crack. You get the point. The menfolk both wracked their brains to figure out where The Boss could have learned such a musical phrase!

Aha! Cried TOTT. The Motown documentary they watched several days ago! The Boss had loved the section where they laid down the tracks one by one and the bassist vocalized his line along with playing.
Boom. Chicka. Bow. Wow.
They had replayed it several times for him. Cause he's The Boss.
Phew.

My child, not exposed to porn at all, just a run of the mill musical genius.

I hereby rename the Toddler stage "Disaster Machine"

Springsteen exit stage left. There's a new boss taking over!

The other day as I was blissfully watching a little Law & Order on the stationary bike at the gym when one of the male trainers came out of the day care and said to me "man, your kid is a trip!"

I feel that Max is SO safe at the gym daycare, from the moment we walk in every one who works there says hello to Max, knows his name. The trainers take the time to go in and play ball with him while he is there. No one could get through them to get to my kid. In fact TOTT went in not to long ago in the evening and the girl behind the counter squinted at him and asked "are you Max's dad?"

Our new roles are as parents to the real star of the show...The Boss.

The Boss, you say? We've never heard that one before! Sweet Baby Max, or King Max yes but The Boss? No. Well, get used to it.

The trainer proceeded to tell me what a kick they get out of him and how he does this thing now where if he wants to do something or wants you to get something for him he will forcibly take your hand and put it on what he wants or lead you over to wherever he wants to go and command you with a "THIS!" and follow it with a blink of his cartoon baby eyes and a sweet voiced "peas?" And so the they had taken to calling my sweet baby The Boss.

He is indeed The Boss. I mean really, I am the boss. I may have made him eggless cookie dough as a treat today but then I put my foot down and wouldn't give in to the cupcake. See? I'm in charge! of course then I spent an hour on youtube playing Beatles videos, so maybe he really is in charge.

Oh well, when your kid is under the weather you do things like make 'em cookie dough and play Beatles vidoes, right? RIGHT?

We spent Sunday in the E.R. It was decidedly not awesome. The Boss was climbing and slid, smashing his face on the edge of the entertainment center. Ma (Grandma) was watching him at the time and she was inconsolable, but it could have happened on any of our watches.

Because toddlers are disaster machines.

The gum above his right front tooth was split to the bone- good lord! seeing your childs bone should never happen- and he tore the connector from his lip to his gum. As you can imagine blood was gushing at nearly rate of the oil spill. It was terrifying. Afterfour hours in the emergency room we left with a 'it'll heal itself' and a prescription for anitbiotics. He vascilates between playing fine and being miserable. Poor baby!

Just an FYI, if your kid is miserable I do indeed suggest eggless cookie dough. Bonus for you, it's yummy so you can drown your 'my baby is sick' sorrows in it too! The Boss loved it so much he did his version of Snoopy's happy dance while singing 'Happy Day!" It slays me with cute.

Anyway, he's been extra cuddly and snuggly and I've been drinking in that sweet baby skin. He is intoxicating, even if his feet now smell like feet and not marshmallows. When did that happen? It's going too fast. But I am still drunk with love for my little klutzy boy. Maybe he did actually inherit something from me after all.

Sorry about that, little dude.

In fact right now I'm trying to decide whether the lovely new goose egg smack in the middle of his forehead makes him look more like a Cyclops or as if he is sprouting a unicorn horn. I think unicorn horn. I also think it's time for more Tylenol (generic, natch)

I leave you with this, in NY we hit up a music class at with DadaRocks and his adorable son Marc. Marc and The Boss made quick friends and had a glorious time together. Plus, the teacher could for real and for true play the guitar. The Boss' mind was blown. He just stood there for a few, taking it all in before he finally let loose and boogied till he couldn't boogie no mo!

The good stuff starts about 30 seconds in, it also features Marc. This kid is so cute I could eat him up. Luckily I have my own kiddo to snack on because we had just met DadaRocks and his wife...I'm not sure if munching on their child would have made the proper first impression.

The Boss spins it right round, baby, right round.

Really, is there anything cuter than babies rocking it out??? Sigh. It makes my heart happy.

Newsies! Get your papes! And also the Parade de Douche heads back into town!

If I eat it [the rose] I can take it into my soul and no one else can ever have it ~ Kyle, The Bachelorette.

It's Bachelorette time! Squee! I can't decide if I love the Bachelor better or Bachelorette. It's like Sophie's choice up in this joint! I mean, on one show there is a bevvy of buxom totally insane chics and maybe one or two normal ones who will never get picked *cough* Melissa *cough*, but on the other show there's utterly idiotic doucheberg's having the most bizarre pissing contest evah.

I love it. And last night the Parade de Douches came into town in a line of loonies worthy of mardi gras. It's gonna be a good season. They got all Lord of the Flies on the introductory episode, so I'm pretty sure that soon it's about to become a Survivor/Bachelorette blend. Or maybe Running Man. Whatever, this season is headed to a dark place. Suicides, stalking, and girlfriends! I can't wait!!! If you want to snark and giggle, join me and TOTT  on Twitter during the show!

Change of subject:

I was approached by NVIDIA about my netbook and how much I love it, which I do, and they made this little video of me! Check it out! (also, file in narcisissm)

 Things we can mock:
1.my voice. what the heck? I am so squeeky. I guess that's why I book a lot of character cartoony- voice overs.
2. My outfit at the park. It was laundry day. Also, horrible posture and excellent muffin top. Tossing that sweater out as soon as I find it.
3. TOTT in his shorts. Awesome tan. But how cute is he?
It was a blast to shoot! And since I do love my netbook, it was no lie.

One last bit of biz:
Hopefully you've all noticed my little message at the top of this blog! Look up...go on. Yup! We are mooooooovin on up. (to the East Side). You know how you can do your own mani/pedi and dye your hair, maybe give yourself a facial and you look in the mirror and think "dang! Well done me, I look pretty good!" but then like, for your birthday or Mother's day you get to go to the salon and someone who really knows what's going on fancies you up and you look in the mirror and think "dang! what was I thinking that I could do this to myself! This is so much better!"

I've done my best to give this blog it's home grown mani/pedi and touch up it's roots (lamest analogy ever.) but dialmforminky.com is working it's way through salon de NapWarden. Bless her heart she has worked her magic and very soon we will be unveiling the new look and also making the big leap! The URL will remain the same, but I don't want to lose a one of you! So I hope you'll help me move by coming along for the ride. No heavy lifting required!

That my friends, is what a random recap blog post looks like. Lamesauce, but it had to be done! Back to the funny on the morrow!

Tangled up in blue...Huggies Jeans Diaper blue, that is!

TOTT and I are midgets...errrr...small people. 

Hanging with Rebecca Romijn and Jerry O'Connell. Like ya do.

Someone call Alanis because I've got a new one for her song. An actual ironic moment. Not just bad luck, or poor planing. Actual irony. But more on that in a minute.

There is something about NYC that usually makes me want to take a Xanax. Since I'm a bad weaner, Xanax isn't an option right about now. Curse you Xanax and your non-safe-for-nursing-relaxingness!

Let me just tell you, that if you need to hit NYC may I recommend you arrive as the guests of the fantastic Huggies team. When I received the email asking me if we would like to attend the Huggies Jeans Diaper fashion show and inviting Max to be in the fashion show,  I was like...hold on let me check my sched. OH HECK YEAH!! First off, Max already rocks the Huggies. Second, who doesn't want to go to NYC for a fashion show! I though I could live out some sort of 90's Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. Only instead of D&G hot pants it would be jeans diapers. The Huggies team even popped some in the mail to us so we could try them out before we got there.
I think they are adorable! I've seen some rumblings on the internet about them and to those people I say lighten up! They're diapers, they look like jeans, and they are so cute. You know I love a baby in a diaper, and this adds to it. I've always been a wee bit jealous of the adorable cloth diaper covers...why can't disposable diapering moms have some fun too?  TOTT, Max and I took the train from DC armed with an Elmo video and a well stocked diaper bag full of treats. The moment our train arrived in New York my phone rang. How lovely! It was Attitude New York letting us know our car was waiting for us. Let me just tell you, hopping into a driven Escalade complete with car seat is a lovely way to roll into the city. Well done, Huggies.
We were driven to the W Hotel at Union Square, a swanky hotel which at first glance might not seem to baby friendly, but the entire staff simply couldn't have been nicer to Max, the door man and the kiddo had a nice high five or two and we were off to our room.  And what a lovely room it was!

Then it happened.

We settled in and I started to clean the little tyke up before we headed off to dinner and then TOTT and his fellow producing partner were to see American Idiot. I started digging through the diaper bag, and then the suitcase feeling the panic rise as I futily searched.

It went like this:

Me: Dude. We forgot diapers!
TOTT:  Who is this 'we', kimosabe?
Me: Shut it you! We. Have. No. Diapers.(I start to giggle)  At a diaper event.
TOTT: It's like ray-ee-ain on your wedding day! (he starts to laugh)
Max starts to laugh too, just cause we are.
Me:(Laughing)  I can't believe we are here for a diaper event and have no diapers.
TOTT: (laughing) I'll just run out and get some.

Knock.Knock.Knock.

TOTT: (confused face-answers door) Hello?

Adorable Hotel Worker Marian: Miss Dulli? Huggies would like to welcome you to New York.

She then proceeds to hand me a Skip Hop denim (natch) diaper bag. I say thank you and the moment she leaves we begin giggling again. I tear open that bag and whatdayaknow! DIAPERS! Huggies literally saves the (stinky) day! After the kid was changed and we had wiped our tears of laughter and totally rewrote Alanis' song (remind me to send it to her. It's pretty good. And features actual irony) we dug into that cute bag and whoohoo! more goodies!

Along with the diapers and bag were coupons for more free diapers (squee!) a gc to cover eating out etc. and oh yeah...a FLIP video camera.


We headed up and moved on out to meet the friends for dinner. I've no idea where we ended up, exept that it was totally YUM and featured this:

Ultra awesome super sly taken on the go pic of Uncle Jesse in several poses. How oddly awesome.

At that point I wasn't aware that Rebecca Romijn was the Celeb mom. Weird, non? (note to Alanis, NOT ironic though.)

After a quick trip to the St. James theatre, Max and I were off to the hotel to catch some ZZZZ's before his big day! We started out with a lovely breakfast with our fellow bloggers who were total rockstars. I don't mean to be biased, but seriously...some outrageously adorable children amongst the bloggers. They kids quickly got acquainted as did we. Is there anything cuter than a bunch of 18 mo-2 year olds playing together?

We got the kids ready for the fashion show and then two of the tallest, most beautiful people ever walked in the room. Rebecca Romijn and Jerry O'Connell. The two of them were very nice and down to earth! Even better they seemed to genuinely like babies and were happy to interact with them. Jerry told Max that he had two little girls at home for him...so it looks like Lauren the waitress has some competition. I know I'll be the mother of the groom, but I've got some great ideas for the Dulli-O'Connell wedding.

Before you knew it we were off to the fashion show! Having done a bunch of these myself as a kid I know how hectic they are and you add babies into the mix and it's a whole lot crazier! There were a couple of mix ups, and we felt a little ummmm, second fiddle there for a second but the Huggies Team was on the case and took care of everything politely and brilliantly!

I was very proud of Max, he's done a ton of photo shoots so he's a pro with that, but this was his very first fashion show and he did very well!

The Huggies team even let me know that he ended up on the life.com website and he even made the Access Hollywood promo for the event. Well done, Max.

I wish the shirt was shorter so you could see the jeans diapers!

We had a wonderful time, and the diapers are great. We used them overnight in NY and they held up beautifully while Max slept for 11 hours! Go Huggies! (and Go Max) They fit him like a dream and I think they are cute. Why not have a little fun while keeping our little ones dry? Everytime I've asked M to bring me a diaper he's chosen the Jeans diaper so I guess he likes em too. Get em while you can cause they are only available during the summer. Thank you to Huggies for hosting us, we had a lovely time and we love the jeans diapers!

Wordless Wednesday~ Apple. Tree. Not far.

                                                        Apple.               Tree.

TOTT makes this face when he looks in the mirror. It's kinda Blue Steel-like. The whole of the American Dream teases him about this. The other night TOTT had given M a bath and had combed their hair so it matched. M looked in the mirror, made the face and said:

"I LOVE MAX"

Clear as a bell. I am in so much trouble 

A simple prayer...

Dear God,

   First off, thank you so much for the baby. I love, love, love him! He is an angel come to earth and there isn't a minute where I am not so grateful for the blessing of him. He is amazing and he blows my mind by the minute. I know that's all you 'cause it's not like I conciously said "today I shall make his heart and it shall be good!" Nope. I was more like "turn on Law & Order and fetch me a puke bucket!" Totally worth it, since he is the grooviest little boy that ever lived! Cooler than Harry Potter for sure.  Thank you so much for the opportunity to be his mother. Aren't children just the reason for everything? Amazing.



I know you understand this since your son was the coolest cat around and the grooviest of the groovy! Did you just swoon every time you saw him?

Of course, we are all your children so you probably think we are all amazing and groovy. Except maybe Hitler. And Jeffrey Dahmer. Oh! And child molestors. Maybe you wish you could have put them on a one way ticket to you-know-where. Probably not though cause you are way more forgiving and amazing than me. But I'm all death penalty like that. Sorry...I'm working on it.

Anyway, I only have one teeny tiny question...and prayer really. It's not just for me, it's for mothers everywhere! I recently tweeted:

And from the large number of responses I've come to realize I am not alone. Why, oh why do we feel more exhausted when we wake than when we went to bed? I'm confused because feeling rested would truly help me take even better care of my sweet groovy angel! So, dear Heavenly Father, could the mothers of the world please rest a little better? It would really help me enjoy the incessant fun games of Fan On! Fan Off! And truly I'd really like to enjoy his amazement that I can actually turn the fan on...

We all thank you so much.

Amen.

Dude where's my...what was I looking for again?

I'm not going to lie to you. I'm a bit of a scatterbrain about certian things. I can feel your shock. Duly noted. I am also lazy about certain things. (oh, shut it you!) This laziness is clearly evidenced that despite Hunky Paul's protestations that my hair is my crowning glory, I continue to wear it in some sort of sloppy bun 90% of the time. I am the hotness. (not so much)

The American Dream features five cars in the driveway. Sometimes it's a highly choreographed event when someone who is in position one wants to leave the abode. Sometimes if TOTT is parked behind me I will not waste a second and take his car instead of mine. Nothing gets between me and five minutes of alone grocery shopping! His car is always cleaner - one of the perks of not carrying someone under age three on the regular - and it features great music which only adds to the allure of a short vacation trip to pick up goodies.

Heaven.

After I've taken a quick side trip to Starbucks finished the shopping, I come out of the store heavily laden with treasures such as laundry detergent and toilet paper and I take one last breath, relishing the few remaining moments of solitude and I think one thing:

Where the eff did I park my car?

I wander about the parking lot nonchalantly pushing the cart up and down the rows of parked cars looking for my little Honda.  Looking left and right before I remember I took TOTT's car! In the immortal words of Homer:  D'oh! (of The Simpsons, natch. Not The Odyssey) The next step is to wrack my mommy addled brain to remember what TOTT's (clean) Camry looks like, invariably approaching one that is decidedly NOT his.

*sidenote: my apologies to the nice woman who was chatting on her phone, minding her own business while sitting in her Camry in the Giant parking lot. Sorry I scared the bejeezuz out of you when I tried to put my groceries in the trunk of your car. Also, awesome collection of beanie babies you've got in the back window. Those things are so au currant.

Finally, and embarrassingly, I find TOTT's car and collapse into it. Sitting for just a few extra moments enjoying the solitude (read: triumph of having found the car). I might even sneak a few minutes of Wait Wait Don't Tell Me.

And maybe, just maybe I might make a blog note or two on ye olde iPhone Notepad. Multitasking brilliance right there.

See? Scatterbrained about some things. Brill about others. It's all about balance people.

We just went there for eggs...

I will admit I have a weakeness for Bob Evans pancakes. I mean, it's no waffle from Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles (hold the chicken for me please) but they are dang good and the second we walk in the toddler starts calling 'cakes! the cakes!'

Max lives in a really nice world. Every where we go someone swoons over him. Tells him he's gorgeous. I want to live in that world, don't you? Bed head? Awwww, so cute. Covered in food? So sweet! Mismatched clothes because you refuse to take off the guitar shirt? How sweet are you??

In fact, not to long ago Max caused a fight. He was cruising along at the mall and TOTT and I were relishing all the comments made either too us, or just overheard about how fantabulous our kiddo is. An adorable couple approached him, the 20 something blond girl said to her man "isn't he the cutest thing you've ever seen?" the boyfriend responded "eh, it's a baby." The light went out of her eyes and TOTT whispered to me "oh his stock just dropped." She turned on him, how could he not think that baby was the cutest thing? Agreed blond girl! How dare he! We passed by them and kept going, but I'm pretty sure that Max prevented that pretty blond girl from marrying a cold hearted baby hater. We passed by them later at the food court and all was not well in Camelot. You're welcome random blond girl at Tyson's Corner Mall.

It was no surprise to me that when me and Mommy's Ma (my mom, as opposed to Daddy's Ma) took him to Bob Evans and the waitresses went all ga ga over him. I adore that people treat him well, and they always coo when he says please and thank you. Raising a boy with good manners is important to me. I hope he is always fawned over, but I will not allow him to expect preferencial treatment, abuse it, or take it for granted. I will do my best to raise a grateful child, and one who treats others as beautifully as he is treated. It's a glorious life for him so far. I wonder if he will grow up gorgeous or if this is the pinnacle of his cute. Either way, I just think he is the bees knees y'all! I know you feel the same way about your babes, and that's just the way it should be.

We had a lovely waitress named Lauren who immediatly proclaimed her undying love for Max. She was about 22 and adorable and was rushing around with an injured leg. Dude. I admired the heck out of her as she raced around limping from table to table with a big smile on her face and a kind word for everyone. Max pulled out all the tricks for her. Showing off all his signs and singing his songs for her, which now include Something and Here Comes the Sun. He played guitar and peek a boo. Lauren the Waitress stood no chance.

And so along with eggs and pancakes I can announce the betrothal of my only son to Lauren the Waitress, who had her friend the hostess draw Max his very favorite thing in the world (other than 'both sides' thankyouverymuch) and offered me this clearly legal contract to care for Max in the manner in which he has become occustomed, in 25 years.

Legally binding guitar contract.

So, at age 27 I shall hand Max off to Lauren the Waitress....wait. No. I don't wanna! He's all mine! He's never getting married! But maybe Lauren the Waitress will give us free pancakes from now till I break the news. I just can't share this bambino. He's all mine! I've got the ruined belly button to prove it.

Sometimes I forget that Tori Spelling isn't my real life friend.

"Sometimes I forget that Tori Spelling isn't my real life friend." These words were uttered to me by my friend Windizzle as we huffingly pushed our strollers up the big hill from the Panda Bears to the visitors center at the National Zoo. We'd just seen the Spectacle Bear and I had totes blown the kids away with all my knowlege of the little dude. Thanks Diego.

(Skyping with little cousin KK of the Ohio Contingent the other day, she was just prattling on about gymnastics and school and all I kept thinking was Sheesh! K, when are you going to do something worthwhile with your life? Like, quit school and live in a treehouse with your sister, hang with a baby jaguar and start doing some good...like saving the spotted owl or something! Meanwhile K is just droning on about how she reads at a third grade level and she's not even in second grade yet. Whatever. How many baby seals did you save today, K? Slacker.)

(Can you even put a whole paragraph in parenthesis? I. Just. Did.)

I mocked Windizzle when she said she thought Tori was her friend. I mean, hello? News flash: she's not. But the Dizz handed me sTORItelling told me to read it then Mommywood and before you can say "hello Charlie!" Dizz and I are texting during Tori & Dean and I was all like OMG Tori is JUST LIKE ME!!!

I mean, Stella and Mr. Max are the same age and he lurves her. Max has guncles as do her kidlets. I also wear glasses (sometimes, although you'll never see it),we both love to decorate, plan events, and basically be in charge...it's like we are the same.person.

And then there's Twitter, which gives crazy people like me access to her! I tweet her on the reg because Diz was right, and I too sometimes forget that she is not my real life friend, and ya know what...sometimes - sometimes she tweets back. Can you stand the rain, people? That is the very definition of awesomesauce.

She's just so weirdly normal, I mean other than the tons of money and Hollywood legacy she is just one of us working moms, loving her kids like crazy, trying to make it work with her man. I am totally picking up what she's putting down.

Not to worry Tori, I'm far too lazy to be a real stalker. And if we ever met it would just be a 'love your shoes' fest. But if I ever move home, I am so looking you up. We could have a playdate. And by play date I mean a glass of champagne and a giggle or two. Keep on keeping on T. Love your friend, Minky

Sometimes I'm awesome

Sometimes not so much. But right now I have carpal tunnel from patting myself on the back. Due to the fact that I pour over an excessive amount of home decorating blogs I became drunk with idea that perhaps I, who posesses no tactile artistic skill what so ever, could indeed create what I wanted instead of buying it.

You see I had this old dresser, ugly, cheesey bad cherry finish. Thanks Al's Discount Furniture on Lankershim. What are ya gonna do when you buy a whole bedroom set for 300 bones? Ethan Allen it's not.

Anyway I recently became obsessed with having a red dresser for Max's new room. And so, the ever patient TOTT shuttled me off to Home Depot and purchased me a sander and a hist ton of colonial red paint. I must admit I was pumped up with confidence from the three years that WWJD and I stripped and stained furniture on the regular. But painting I had never done. And stain seems more forgiving.

But I figured what the heck. It's crap anyway, and if I ruin it then at least I've tried!

Behold!

From totally geek:

to totally chic!

Forgive the craptastic iphone fauxto. I haven't quite gotten the lighting squared away in there and also there was a small person pulling on my shirt hollering 'Both sides!'

Demanding little bugger.

It actually turned out better than I hoped and I am now looking at every single piece of furniture here at The American Dream as a potential project. I think my in laws are going to start hiding things. And also I can't find the dog. Which is a shame since he is all black. He could really use an accent color.

International (wo)man of (no) Mystery.

Behold! My mother's day gifts:

Mayhaps you will recognize the all too familiar logo's from my Motherships. Target Boutique and Starbucks.

Now before you go thinking my fam is lazy for just doling out the gift cards, you must understand how very much I adore gift cards. Two words, people: FREE SHOPPING.

I love to shop. I do. Now that I've bested my eating disorder and given up soda, I will absolutely admit that I could easily go to the dark side of retail and develop an addiction.

Thus far I've held it at bay (although TOTT would now snort and say "barely" but then I bring him something coolio and he forgives. He's the awesome) I suppose if I had more friends in this zip code I might not spend my days plotting the new finds and making lists of things I want as soon as payday comes around. Okay, it might be a small problem. Very small. I window shop far more than I buy and I really choose things wisely. And if I make a mistake I return it ASAP. And so my family gifted me with the happy day of shopping!

I lie about the friends thing...If I had more friends in this zip code I would just be shopping with them.

But here's the thing...I will always love my Target and yes, I will always choose the Target with the Starbucks in it over one without. But perhaps I need to mix it up a bit. I've become a no brainer.

My high maintanance rep is feeling a bit bruised over this. I mean, it's so easy now!~ Just toss Target at me and watch me squeal!

But where, oh where, is there a store as glorious as Target??? I need to go get a coffee and give this matter some serious thought. Maybe I need some shoes too,oh, and hair dye...huh. Target it is.

What kind of crazy a$$ Sesame Street has he been watching?

Overnight my sweet pumpkin boy has turned into toddler dictator with a vengeance. He's got a mind of his own and by God you will bow to his will!
We are still fighting to tame the sleep dragon and hoepfully moving him into his own room this past weekend was a step in the right direction. He's a good napper, but not so much at night.
Until this last week. Suddenly he is practically screaming 'off with your head!' when I dare to bring him to the crib for a quick nap.
All the while he is rubbing his eyes and his head is too heavy for his neck. (Honestly his cheeks have got to weigh two pounds each, those bad boys are plump. And delicious.)
As I carried him down on Friday he began screaming, loudly and clearly:

la la la la la

la la la la la

la la la la la la

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing! Sing a sooooooooooooooooooooooooooong!!! 

But in some sort of vicious death metal screaming growl.  It was terrifying and impressive all at the same time.

What sort of crazy a$$ Sesame Street has he been sneaking behind my back?




Despite his protestations, the second his future death metal head hit his uber cute antique truck sheets he was out like the proverbial light and he woke up singing a much sweeter version of the same song.

So, the cure for death metal is clearly more naps.

The next thing you know you're singing 'Surrey With the Fringe On Top' in front of Ira!

Ok, fine. I wasn't singing 'Surrey With the Fringe On Top' in front of Ira. Details schmetails. The next thing you know, however, I was standing in front of a huge blue screen filming a commercial. I never tell what product it's for.

I'm stoopidtitious that way.

Oh how I've missed you, my little bloggy world. From Saturday on it's been a whirlwind. First up we were getting the house ready for new carpet. The American Dream hasn't had new carpet since the folks moved in...like 20 years ago. And the old shizz was blue and pink. I tell you no lie, my friends, blue and pink carpet. Now imagine how much stuff you can accumulate in 20 years and the raising of not one but two children, so there was a hist ton of stuff to move.

Here's something you might not know about me: I'm a bit high maintenance. *STOP LAUGHING!* Alright, fine. You probably guessed that...but with the new carpet we seized the opportunity to move the kiddo from the delux  apartment in the basement to the guest room giving him his very.own.room. *sob*. So we turn the delux apartment in the basement into a playroom/tv room/office and with this move we decide to inhabit TOTT's childhood bedroom complete with baseball trophies and fantabulous 80's wallpaper.

Here's the thing kids, me and wallpaper...well we are the opposite of two great tastes that taste great together. There's only room for one of us in that bedroom, and it's me. So it was with the theme from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly playing in my head, and a Law & Order marathon playing on the tv, that I took to telling that paper to get to stepping.

It was three very frustrating hours later, and one trip to Target for a steamer (Dear God, thank you for the steamer, love me.) that TOTT burst in the room crying "We have VIP Wiggles Tickets! I got em!"

He might have even yelped 'beauuuuuuuty mate!' but I can't be sure because I was too busy trying not to fall off the ladder whilst holding a steamer full of boiling water. And we all know how klutzy I am just standing on solid ground.

I swear to you, TOTT wasn't even that excited when we got Paul McCartney tickets. Oh, small child, what have you turned us into?

People who will join the wiggles fan club in order to get advance VIP tickets apparently. So soon we will be boogying with those crazy kids in the big red car. Do you suppose Jeff knows he is the creepiest Wiggle? Ah well, M is all about Murray anyway. Murray has the guitar so Max only has eyes for Murray.

I cannot believe I just typed that sentence.

As we raced to get everything ready for the big move/ new carpet (which of course, you know, means painting everything in sight, refinishing dressers and new bedding...I must have new bedding!) I got a last minute call for an audition on Monday for a commercial that shot on Tuesday. Suh-weet. I always do good on quick decision calls!

My very first commercial evah was one of these, and I was so lucky to work with the awesomest jokester in the land- Joel McHale who for reals took such good care of me on the set that I thrill every time I see him on tv. He is so deserving of his success.

Also, I saw him at Aroma Cafe once and his kid and my kid had the same stroller. So obviously I can declare us B.F.F.'s in my delusional land.  I wonder if his stroller is as useless and broken as mine is. Harumph.

So the symmetry is not lost on me. My very first commercial ever, and my very first commercial back from having my baby were very similar experiences. Except this time no Joel McHale, just me and blue screen and a teleprompter. I'm like Obama, y'all, I do so love a teleprompter.

Clowns are more evil than birds.

Being sick is for the birds. I wonder where that phrase came from...but anyway it works for me because I hate birds. Well, truly, they hate me. It started when I was four and a merry band of evil geese chased little yellow-London Fog- coated me out into the middle of a very (thank the heavens) frozen Viele lake. Had to be rescued. True story. (also, when I say true story I really mean it...Zach is the teller of tall tales, hence: TOTT, but weird hist just happens to me on the regular. Such is my life!) Soon after that I realized that perhaps the geese had told all the other birds in some sort of bird email blast of their being chased off the lake and loudly admonished by the South Boulder Parks and Rec guy and so I had a mark on my head. A bird vendetta was issued against me.

Get her.

I have been dive bombed, had my hair grabbed and pulled, bitten by a pigeon in NY (he just flew up and BIT ME! And yes...a tetnus and rabies shot was had.) I have never, knock on wood, been how to say this delicately - ummmm pooped upon. No, but poor Dub was marked simply for being my sis and she has been baptised twice by the flying demon birds.

Is it any wonder I became a cat person?

I hate birds and they hate me. It's a very symbiotic relationship. Wait, no it's not. I never really learned symbiosis because I was crap at science. Actually, I might have been good at science but I never really went. My instincts told me that hanging out in the student center and playing SWISH would be way more fun. The power of following your instincts kids. Lesson for the day.

I feel guilty though. Saying bad things are for the birds. I mean they are still God's creatures.
Lucky for me there is something that I hate more than birds. Clowns. And I think we can all agree that Clowns are more evil than birds. And surely there is the devil's work those creepy red painted smiled and horrifically demented eyes. The proof is in the pudding people. 20 million horror films simply cannot be wrong!

I mean seriously. Clowns will bring the end of days. Mark my words.

I'm pretty sure there is zero photoshopping going on in this picture because clowns are just that evil. If I can find who it belonged to first I will have them come here and prove it.

I laughed till I peed.

Mr. M just pointed to this and said "mommy's juice!" Indeed.

In the immortal words of Clairee Belcher my dream last night was "too twisted for color t.v."

I mean, Borat and I took our jobs on that jury very seriously and we did a good job, but our subsequent Running Man (not a euphemism) left a lot to be desired. Still, "It's Getting Kind of Hectic" is a song that has stood the test of time, at least in my dreams, it's a jamming tune. Disappointingly, neither Borat nor myself made the Barnes and Noble Songleader squad.

Maybe next time.

My Southern Grandmother used to say that we suffer from a delicate constitution. She ran completely on Valium and narcissism so I'm a believer. Her thesis was supported by the very large fact that in her living room there was a separate fridge for the meds. The Valium had it's own fridge, people. True story. No wonder I suffer from a case of 'the nerves' (btw, you have to say 'the nerves' with a Southern dialect). I come by the crazy honestly, at least! 

Maybe I should get a fridge for the Zoloft. And the Puppy Bear's Prozac. Maybe the little light will help me read the label so as not to take the D-O-G's medicine again.  I don't need a big huge fridge like the Grandmother had...just a teeny mini fridge. Does Anthropologie make one? Cause I want it pretty. I should invent that. There's money in that, y'all.

It's such a bummer I can't have the gooooooooooooooood drugs with this dang cyst. Due to the fact that I am a bad weaner, I am relegated to Tylenol only. Although with dreams like these on the 'nol, I would fear to see what I'd come up with on the Vic. 

And now, (for a non-sequitor) I'd like to introduce a new feature here at the Minkster - Texts from Dub. The first month we moved away Dub and I texted 1, 478 times. This was both tremendously unfortunate as I did not have an unlimited texting plan then; and also totally impressive because at the time I had a baby pink Katana. Ah, the Katana...it wanted to be a Razor when it grew up. How did I ever live without a smart phone? Anyhoo, Dub is the funny. She makes me laugh till I pee. Those of you who have had a baby know what I'm speaking of. 

And so, I leave you with this...why I love Dub.

Only a sister would share that with you. And then let you share it with the world.

Wordless Wednesday~ Back in the saddle!

Audition? Check!

The Power of OW!

Max  has a new word. It's "OW" and he has learned ever so quickly that upon uttering that simple syllable everything not only stops, but everyone surrounding him rushes to his aide smothering him with assurances and snuggles. Just as soon as he learned this lesson, he learned to abuse it.
A simple removing of pj's now causes screaches of "OW! OW!", Don't want to eat those crackers? "OW! OW!" and forget about a diaper change. One would think we were dipping his booty in boiling oil instead of gingerly applying some A&D ointment.
Sometimes, it's really hard not to giggle at your child. I try, but sometimes I fail. Cause the drama? The drama is comedy.
Yesterday I reached my OW! limit. It's been a tough week here at the American Dream, TOTT had literally been brought to his knees by a kidney stone (which he showed me and other than the eeeeewww-there-are-somethings-couples-should-not-share factor, holy schnikes. That hist was huge and sharp. Poor TOTT!), then the whole fam, and I mean everyone was struck by a stomach bug.
It was the opposite of of awesome.
I laughingly joked to TOTT that I was having sympathy kidney stone pains, much like he had sympathy pains all throughout my pregnancy. Alas it turned out not to be a figment of my admittedly overactive imagination.
In case anyone is ever wanting an ultrasound...you know the first trimester kind...I suggest your mention the words 'lower left sharp abdominal pains' to your doctor.
Since I am not a man, it took me a mere week to admit that something was truly up and make an appointment. I was unconvinced that it was something major, but the docs bandied words about like ectopic pregnancy and ruptured ovarian cyst.
Excellent.
Yet again, due to my rampant refusal to wean my toddler just yet, I am regulated to nothing but Tylenol, Chocolate and Tears. My current holy trinity.
Luckily today I was informed it was not an ectopic pregnancy and was indeed a cyst, but it looked as thought it was on it's way down and is in no danger of rupturing. Whew. No word on why the pain is radiating up throughout my ribs...but at least I can relax about any imminent danger to my future baby making possibilities!

The best part of being sick in bed, are the Puppy Bear snuggles.

Yet again, I must extoll the European sensibility of living with extended family. I know...I know...and soon we will indeed fly this nest, but honestly, what seemed like the end of the world has turned out to be one of our greatest blessing. No one circles the wagons like family. Even after a week of being sick everyone rushed to my aid. To play and care for M while I couldn't/can't pick him up. As in pain and wallowing in my own puddle of self pity, I do see how blessed I am. Even though the pain has sapped the funny from my very being...it shall rise again. Like the South. (only not really...the South, not the funny.)

Short and Sweet for the weekend...

Yes, that is me in my former life (last week- hehehe) modeling for Simon Thorpe. You know what I was thinking while this was being taken? I'm so fat. I'm so ugly. This is a joke. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Enough is enough is enough. Or, enuff as my 15 year old 'little sister' M insists on spelling it. Either way ladies, enough (enuff) is enough. For all of us.

In the last week I have had three IRL friends and countless internet friends confess to me how unhappy they are with their bodies, I see them discount their successes and point out their (perceived) failures.

I am guilty of it too.

But enough is enough. This weekend I declare a negativity diet for us all. Two days. We can do it.

You are ALL goddesses. You grew and birthed babies, your bodies are strong. Your laughs are like music to God. Your smile makes someone's day, you might never know whose...the cashier at the store, your husbands...someone's day is made brighter by you and you don't ever know it.

We are too old ladies, too old for this junior high apologizing for being alive. We must stop apologizing for taking up space on this planet. We are meant to be here, to accomplish things. We so frequently apologize for behaviours that need no apology, we consistently accept less than we require and make do.

We would never short change our own children this way, why do we short change our parent's children?

Giving birth to my son, was a tremendously spiritual experience. I never understood the saying 'I am a child of God' but looking at my son I saw a plan bigger than me or my husband. This child was created in my womb, but by no concious day to day work of mine. I never woke and said to TOTT: today I shall work on the central nervous system!

No, it was in me, but beyond me. My child is sacred, and therefore so am I. And so are you.

So no more Ladies! Two days! And like feeding yourself nothing but nutritious veggies and high protein foods, getting our bodies healthy, this weekend I challenge us ALL to get take a tiny step towards getting our hearts and minds healthy. Our esteem healthy, if you will!

I say this for myself as well.
It took me years, years to conquer my eating disorder. It was only when the doctor flat out told me "in six months you will either be getting better, or you will be dead. Your choice." that I found a survival instinct.

True story.

(of course when I was checked into that hospital the nurse doing my exam asked me my diet secrets cause I was just so cute and tiny. Yeah, see that GIANT red stamp my chart that says BULLIMIC- must watch? That's how it's done. You too could be 80 pounds!)
Turns out I kinda wanted to live after all. We (I) grew up internalizing everything. Any mistake meant I was bad. I never did anything bad...I WAS bad. I wasn't bad, by the way. Not at all. I struggle daily with anxiety (as you know) and also with BDD, left over from my eating disorder...BDD is like a scar from a car accident. I have to constantly remind myself that I do not see my physical self as it is. I see it through a fun house mirror.
I challenge us all to simply take notice of how often we discount ourselves, how often we inform people that we are too pale, too fat, too silly, too...whatever, to be taken seriously.

I'm going to try my very best when I catch myself doing that to replace it with a thought of something I am good at.

i.e. when I look at pictures of myself I always think two things: I look like a hunchback, and I look like the stay puft marshmallow man.
I'm going to try to replace that with: I've got a pretty nice smile and my personality shows through in that picture.

Something along those lines.

I am not a Dr. Phil fan per se, but I heard him say one thing ages ago that has stuck with me; people treat us as we inform them we want to be treated.
I don't know about you, but I would like to be treated well! That means treating ourselves well.

This weekend just try to stop and think about how amazing we all are, what we've accomplished, the babies we've birthed, the jobs we've had, the relationships, the *childhoods we've survived.


We are pretty damn awesome. The lot of us.

Are ya with me?


I'm too old to accept anything less than stellar treatment from anyone, including myself. How old is too old? Why 27 of course! :)


Ok, that turned out to not be so short after all. Anyone surprised?


(*And  Mom, before you get upset, my childhood was great! You know when I fell apart...)