Operation: Vacation

Ahh yes, family vacation time. Time to relax...well, for everyone but mommy. Of course there were times during vacation when I could sit back and relax (like when the kids were sleeping), but for the most part it wasn't much different from being at home for me. I find it funny that it takes me forever to pack for a trip that is within my state (the smallest state in the US mind you). Every year we spend a week with my father-in-law at his house on the beach. I usually take my time over a couple of days to pack things but lately we've been leaving the day after our 4th of July block party. I spent so much time preparing for said party, that I couldn't pack. Then the day we were to leave I had to clean and pack at the same time. I am usually an excellent multi-tasker, however I may have had a little too much fun at the party because it felt like a drummer was performing a solo in my head all day. Plus it was 90 degrees and humid. In hind sight that was probably a good thing since it helped me sweat out some of the alcohol. Anywho...we left a lot later than I had planned and ended up arriving at the beach house at 8pm.

The first thing I did was stop to get food for the kids to eat on the ride down since I was going to have to unpack all the stuff I just packed and I didn't want to add cooking to my "to do" list. Once we were all settled in I decided I should probably eat something. I grabbed some leftovers from the party that were in a tupperware and threw it in the microwave. Just as I sat down to eat it my oldest son looked at me and said "I think I am going to be sick". I jumped up, grabbed him, and ran with him to the bathroom. We made it just in time. I stood there with one arm wrapped around his chest, squaring him with the toilet, tupperware in the other hand, while he threw up. Now, before I had kids the sight of someone vomiting would make me sick too. But now, it's just another day as a mom. When he finished, I brought him to a recliner, covered him and he fell asleep. Had this happened earlier in my journey through mommy hood, it may have warranted a trip to the ER. I once called 911 for a high fever only to be rushed, by ambulance, to the hospital where they administered Tylenol and sent us home. Live and learn, I guess.

With one son settled in for the night, I sat down and tried to finish (or actually start) eating my food. Again, in the past I would never have been able to eat after watching a projectile vomiting episode. Now that's just for amateurs. As soon as I raised the fork to my mouth my youngest yelled from the bathroom "Mom! I need help! Oh shit, he's throwing up too. I set my food down this time and headed for the bathroom. When I opened the door I found him bent over, ass in the air. "Wipe my butt, I pooped". Super. By the way, this wasn't going to stop me from eating either.

The rest of the week was quite enjoyable. We spent hours on the beach swimming, and playing in the sand. There weren't anymore vomiting episodes, although I did occasionally assume the role of "ass wiper". I'm sure my hubby enjoyed himself too. There was no shortage of scantly clad, hot bodied ladies bouncing around in the waves. The surf was pretty rough and I'm sure he witnessed the occasional "nip slip". Oh well...it kind of reminded me of that commercial for Corona, when the girl squirts lime juice in her man's eyes for ogling the women. The only difference is if I had a lime I may have squirted it in my own eyes. They were making me ill. Weird...this was something that could cause me to vomit. I missed by pre-baby body and the ability to wear a bikini.

For every bikini body on the beach, there were five that should not have been wearing bikinis...but they were anyway. By mid week I thought...Screw it, I have a bikini and I'm going to wear it. Well technically it's a bikini top, and a skirted bottom...or what I like to refer to as the "Momkini". I probably should have thought that through a bit more. My stomach hadn't seen the light of day in quite some time. Even with sunscreen my mid section got torched. Let me add that I NEVER burn. I have very dark skin (everywhere that gets exposed to the sun on a regular basis). I don't know how people with fair skin do it. I can't remember the last time I was in so much pain (aside from the day after the party). It was still bright red three days later. Needless to say, it will be years before I expose it again, if ever. It also was not a good idea to wear that top in the heavy surf. I was guilty of numerous "nip slips" myself. Another reason to retire the "Momkini" on the family vacation.

While we were there we were able to have a date night. We hit a little bar near the beach and it was packed. There was a large group celebrating someones 21st birthday. I felt really old. I just wanted to have a few beers and play some pool and these "kids" were hogging all the tables. They were also obnoxiously drunk and screaming the lyrics to every song. I thought...Wow, did we look like that when we were their age? Then I realised that we look like them now when we go out with our friends. The bartender informed us that the beer we were drinking was only $5 for a pitcher. Why not...we could handle a couple of pitchers. Finally, a table opened up and we went over to start playing. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that a group of youngins kept looking at me and talking amongst themselves. At first I thought maybe I was just being paranoid, but after a few more drinks I started to get pissed off. What the hell are they looking at? Just let one of those little bitches say something to me (Obviously, beer balls were in full effect). When my husband went to get us another pitcher, one of them started walking toward me while the others looked on. Oh, here we go...I'm too old for this shit. She walked up and said " I love your shirt, it's such a pretty color and it makes you look so tan!" Whew... "Oh, thank you honey" I replied. "I got it at Target for $10". They were young but I'm sure they were well aware of the unspoken rule of revealing the location of purchase as well as the price whenever complimented. Now at ease, I could drink and play a few more games. We had a great time. On the way back to the beach house we talked about taking a walk down to the beach. However, when I walked in I settled into a recliner and passed out. I have now added draft beer to my date night nemesis...Taco Bell.

Overall, we had a great time. The kids also learned some very valuable lessons. For example, beer goes in the blue cooler (B in B). Also, there is no distracting mommy and daddy while we are mini golfing. Little do they know we have naughty "wages" set in place for the winner. One day they may read this and realize why it was such serious business...then they will probably vomit.

We've Come a Long Way Baby

This month my husband and I celebrated our eight year anniversary. What?...Wait a minute...eight years?!? I can't believe it's been that long. It feels like I was just stressing out over all the details of the wedding. Where will the reception be? What color will the bridesmaids wear? What will the menu consist of? Ha! I thought these were things to stress about! Little did I know that getting married was the easy part. It's staying married that's tough.

I won't say that I know any secrets to sustaining a marriage. Sure there are things that help make it work, but I guarantee if you were to ask men and women what they think are the keys to a great marriage they would differ greatly. Women would say things like; you need to have trust, honesty, and patience. Men would say you need to have sex, sex, and more sex. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I have to disagree and say that the route is more likely through his penis. Sure, sex is a huge part of sustaining a relationship with your partner but pre marriage sex and post marriage sex are quite different. Especially when kids enter the picture.

When my husband and I first started dating we could have sex whenever and wherever we felt like it. We were carefree. Now...not so much. It has almost become like a planned "event". "How does a week from Thursday work for you?" Naughty bedroom talk has been replaced with things like: "Are you sure they are sleeping?", "Is their door closed?", "Did you lock our door?", "OK, let's get this show on the road...I have to get up early and pack lunches...and I have a ton of laundry to do". Pretty hot, I know. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't enjoy it. It's just that it's not as easy to focus on it when I'm constantly worried that we are going to get caught...again.

It frustrates men that women don't need sex as often as they do. I asked my husband once how he would feel if our relationship would stay strong if we regularly ate ice cream together. He likes to have ice cream occasionally but he wouldn't really notice if he went without it for a while. I, on the other hand, LOVE ice cream. I could eat it everyday. It probably won't seem fair to him if I thought we needed to have ice cream together a few times a week in order for our marriage to work. It's not that we have completely different priorities, I feel that being intimate with your partner can make the relationship stronger, but I tend to not really notice if it's been a while since we've done the "deed". I guarantee at any given time if I ask my husband when the last tine we have sex was he could tell me the date, and could probably give me the literal answer including the actually time. Sometimes I'll notice he's a bit moody and think...Hmm, when was the last time we had sex? It has been a while, maybe I should throw him a bone. Well technically I guess he would be throwing me a bone, but I digress.

I've been trying to spice things up a bit. Once in a while we will exchange some naughty texts, or perhaps even a picture here and there. This scares the hell out me though. I am still technologically challenged and panic as soon as I hit the send button. I sent that to the right person right? Oh crap...what if I didn't? I'm going to end up on the Internet. I am well known for making these types of blunders amongst my work friends. Once I sent the following picture to a lawyer that I was working with by mistake:



I added: "Wow, this guys pretty excited about the weather!". Luckily he had a good sense of humor and laughed about it. Now you see why I am leery about sending things to my hubby.

I feel lucky to be married to a man that I trust. Infidelity has never been issue for us. Sure, it may have something to do with the scare tactic I've used on him...telling him if I ever found out he cheated I would end up being compared to Lorena Bobbitt. Honestly, I don't worry about him as much as I worry about the women out there who enjoy the thrill of being with a married man. It pisses me off to hear stories about women who want a married man because they have a wife that will cook and clean and take care of the kids and they don't have to do these things for them. They just have sex with them and then send them back home to their wives. Really? To me, that would be like going to work everyday and then someone else gets your paycheck. I'll be damned if some bitch is going to make me do all the work and then she gets the reward. Mama wants her reward. If that means I need to move sex up my priority list, so be it. What's important to him should be important to me.

Maybe I can accommodate both of our favorite things into one...Sex immediately followed by ice cream. Then everyone wins. Plus we all know what would happen if I were to eat before...

You Just Got Served

People in the service industry are probably on the fast track to sainthood. Especially waiters and waitresses. These people put up with unbelievable amounts of crap and ignorance from the general public without the ability to tell them off. It should be mandatory that people who frequent restaurants have to wait on a table at least once, just to see how not to treat their servers. Since the birth of the phrase "the customer is always right" people with jerk-like tendencies have had the ability to bloom into full blown assholes.

We don't go out to eat much. When we do it's to places that have crayons for the elaborate mazes and puzzles on the place mats, and that include ice cream with the kid's meals so I can bribe them reward them for eating. If I do go out with just my husband, I find myself fighting the urge to order for him, cut his steak into tiny pieces, and applauding when he finishes all his food. Whenever we are out I always hear people being so rude to their waiter or waitress. I heard one woman tell her waitress "Every time we come here the food is terrible". Really? I wanted her to reply with something like "Oh, so you didn't feel like cooking tonight and decided to come to a place that has food you don't like? Don't let the door hit you on your lazy ass on the way out". Instead she had to apologize to this miserable bitch for no reason. Then there are those people who don't like the way the food is cooked and flip out on their servers for it. They don't cook the food jerk off, they just bring it to you.

I think it should be a requirement that these people watch the movie "Waiting". I guarantee that they will change their tune when they see why one line in that movie is good to take note of; "Don't fuck with the people that handle your food". Maybe the visual of their steak being repeatedly dropped on the floor, or someone having inappropriate relations with their garlic bread, will aide them in not being a total tool to their server.

I actually caused a waiter to inadvertently suffer the whining and moaning of a patron due to the behavior of my four year old son. I brought him out for lunch, and the hostess sat us right near an elderly couple. He was actually pretty well behaved. Sure, he was a little antsy while we were waiting for our food. He bounced around in his seat a little. He talked rather loudly. He went under the table a couple of times (once he emerged chewing gum; guess where he got it and insert dry heave here). Occasionally he would peek behind him over at the couple in the next both. Apparently this was completely inappropriate for an establishment that has menus that resemble PlayStation controllers. I'm not ageist or anything but this old bird was clearly of the grumpier variety. The woman started snickering and staring at me. She was saying things like "People don't know how to control their kids" and "Our kids never acted that way". Yeah, maybe because you were allowed to beat them with belts and wooden paddles. She's lucky I respect my elders because I was seconds away from getting up...hand and head waving yelling "You got somethin to say to me?"
When her waiter came she started demanding that he move them, and their food, to another table. She didn't want to say why, and the manager got involved thinking it had to do with their server. Luckily for me, they didn't move very far...and... my son has no filter. He must have sensed that I was having some ill feeling toward the couple because almost as if on cue he said (well practically yelled) "Wow mom, that lady is REALLY FAT!", while pointing at the woman. It took everything I had not to laugh. I usually reprimand him for such an act, but instead I whipped out the ice cream menu and let him have his pick; he deserved it.

I need a place to dine that caters to families, but it isn't just about the kids. It would be a cross between Chuck E Cheese and Hooters (minus only hot female severs; the mommies like a little eye candy too). The menu would cover everything from shrimp, and filet to a hot dog shaped like an octopus. Each table would have a waiter and a waitress; the waitresses will "cater" to the daddies, acting as if, had they been single, they would have a chance; and the waiters would come to collect the dishes and say things like "let me take those for you...I love to wash dishes. I also enjoy doing the laundry and vacuuming". A girl can dream, right? If he asked me if I needed anything else I would say "Yeah, why don't you come home with us, get the kids ready for bed, and read them a book. Oh, and don't let them near our room...I'm going to play a game with their daddy" What?...That's not out of line...the customer is always right!

These Wagons Should Have Seat Belts

I hear people say all the time that they "fell off the wagon". Apparently, these wagons exist for a variety of reasons from quitting smoking, to dieting, or to stop drinking. My favorite wagon to mount, and then be thrown from, is of the dieting variety. I strap on my helmet, elbow, and knee pads, pick a date that I will board, and ride it as if it were a mechanical bull; desperately trying to buck me off. It starts out well enough, the road is smooth and I have a positive outlook on the whole thing..."I think I can, I think I can". Then the path begins to twist and turn and the ride becomes turbulent. My wagon starts taking me to places like birthday parties, or my kids beg for McDonald’s. It becomes time to grab hold of the "oh shit" handles. My outlook starts to change as I have to now repeat things like "cake is a sometimes food, cake is a sometimes food"...

I’ve struggled with weight issues my whole life. The size of my "skinny jeans" is probably double that of most women. I try not to obsess over it, but it’s tough when it’s thrown in your face every day on television. I find it amusing that commercials for Jenny Craig and Weight Watchers are sandwiched (pun intended) between those for Burger King and Pizza Hut. It’s also no fun to come across women in the supermarket that have 3 kids (all of which are probably younger than mine) as they strut along in their size 2 jeans. If this is a perfect description of yourself, and you swore you heard someone mutter "whore" as they were walking by in the store; you’re not crazy, I definitely said it.

I was probably at my thinnest when I got married. I find this unfair for my husband because technically it could be viewed as false advertising. Six months later I found out I was pregnant. In a way, I used this fact as a way to excuse my participation in a free for all with food. "This damn baby is always hungry". I ate whatever I could get my hands on while blatantly blaming my fetus that needed only a third of it to grow. The end result was my gaining a whopping 70 pounds! To be honest, I didn’t really give a crap at the time. I bore a beautiful, healthy, baby boy. Nothing else was all that important.

The constant distraction of motherhood helped me keep the binge eating in check. I remember days when I would put the baby to bed for the night and think "Did I eat anything today?" It took a year for me to lose most of the weight. I can clearly recall the day I went to my drawer and pulled out all of my clothes until I finally reached my "skinny jeans" which hadn’t seen the light of day in quite some time. Hello old friend. I put them on without much of a struggle and could actually button them. YES! Look out, mama’s back in business! One week to the day of this exhilarating moment, I was sitting in my bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test..."Are you fricken kidding me?!?"

My husband plays a huge role when it comes to my weight issues. He’s never once, even at my biggest, ever made me feel anything other than beautiful. Unfortunately, most of the time I didn’t pay much attention because I was so wrapped up in the kids and trying to grasp what had just happened to my life. I found myself thinking about all the times I complained about my pre-pregnancy body. I would walk through flaming embers to get that body back. I give him a lot of credit for hanging in there during all my pity parties (catered by Taco Bell of course).

For all I know, when I ask my husband how I look he isn’t even seeing me. He replaces my image with that of Carmen Electra or something. Frankly, I don’t care. As long as he’s believable he can visualize whoever he wants. This, of course, is the only time lying in a relationship is OK. The end result will be that I feel great and that will most likely translate to him feeling great later (wink, wink). Take note fellas, it leads to a win/win situation.

I’ve decided to trick out my new "diet wagon". It will be equipped with seat belts, a GPS and air bags to help me navigate through the bumpy roads. When temptation seems like it will take over maybe I’ll try having a glass of wine to help me relax. Besides, I have no use for a wagon that will help me stop drinking...that’s crazy talk.

The Perils of Date Night

My husband and I will be married for eight years this summer. Those of you with children know that they make it difficult to have quality time with your spouse. I’m very fortunate that my mom takes my kids overnight, affording us the ability to have "date night". However, it seems the opportunity sometimes brings disaster. For example; two of my last date nights started with my four year old falling into a frozen pond (it was only three inches deep where he went through...but still) and my having to perform the Heimlich maneuver on my six year old. These are not the ideal conditions for me to try and focus on my husband. I spent the evenings re- living the events the whole time and thinking of the worst case scenario for each. All I could see was my six year gasping for air while I practically broke his ribs desperately trying to remove the lodged food item. What if I hadn’t been in the room when it happened? Then there was the vision of my other son falling in a pond that was over his head and being carried away under the ice by the current..."I'm sorry, what honey?...Were you saying something?"...

In order to establish why date night has become so important to us, I have to start with a really embarrassing story...

A few months back my husband and I were caught "in the act" by our six year son. Let me apologize in advance because this may trigger a painful memory for most of you. I will never forget the time that I walked in on my parents doing "the deed". Granted, at the time I wasn’t sure what I had just witnessed. I believe the same applies to my son. He has never asked about the birds and the bees, and I have adopted my own version of the policy "Don’t ask, Don’t tell". I feel really horrible about this though because I know there will come a time when he does learn the facts and this image will enter his mind again- and haunt him for the rest of his life. I can picture him coming home from school the first day of Sex Ed; wide eyed and despondent. Oh crap...he knows. "What’s up Buddy?"..."How was school today?" Unable to even look at me he’ll say "Umm, I think I’m going to go to my room". There he will stay, curled in the fetal position, trying like hell to make the image go away. Sorry pal, speaking from experience I know it will never go away. Poor kid.

Well, needless to say this "event" has made me very uncomfortable. It’s difficult to be intimate when I carry around the constant fear that I will be busted by my own kid. I’m also trying to save my youngest from a lifelong crippling image of his own.

Date nights that begin without potentially life threatening drama tend to have a common sequence of events. As with girl’s night out, I tend to go through hours of preparation. I’ll ask my husband his opinion on outfit and shoe selection usually to get an answer like "I don’t care, whatever you think". Alrighty then. "How should I wear my hair...up or down?" "Umm, whichever one takes less time to do" Super, thanks babe. At least we will be meeting other couples when we go out and the women there will tell me how great I look.

We usually meet our friends that have also had the good fortune of obtaining a babysitter out for some drinks and to see a band. After drinking and dancing all night we get in the car, I turn to my husband and say "I’m hungry". Let me add that the act of eating after a night of drinking always has the same result for me- instant coma. He doesn’t have to ask what I want because the answer is always the same; Taco Bell, of course!

My husband has a love/hate relationship with Taco Bell. Loves the food...hates my taco induced coma. Nevertheless, we find ourselves at the drive thru at 1am ordering "the usual". This consists of three items for me and sixteen for him. As we approach the window I notice the totals for the cars in front of us; $2.35, $4.65...then we get up there and the total is $34.50. WTF? How is that possible at an establishment where the average cost of a menu item is 89 cents? Oh well, I’d pay $50 for that beefy, crunchy deliciousness.

As soon as we get home we start digging in. My eyes grow heavier with each bite I take. As the darkness starts to take hold of me I hear my husband say something like "You look beautiful tonight", but it’s too late...I’m out.

I usually wake up around 4am, a half eaten taco on my lap, still sitting up on the couch. I brush the cheese that has spilled out of my taco off my lap and do the walk of shame up to my bedroom where my husband is asleep..."Curse you Taco Bell!!"

I have promised to make a conscience effort not to fall into the hands of my nemesis (Taco Bell) on our next date night. I will heed the words of my friends as they grab my face and look in my eyes on the way out of the bar saying "NO Taco Bell!...Taco Bell BAD!". I will go straight home with my hubby and show him how much I love him without any fear of being caught by our kids. When we are done I will jump up, get dressed and run for the Border!!