The Beach (So Far)

Running with bird.

Running from bird.

Bird.

Fun.



Family.



Tales from the Trenches (A Guest Post)

I am on vacation and this week we'll have a series of guest posts/slash/vacation pics (Kilwins). I met Jeanne Sager last month in LA for the Cars 2 trip and immediately recognized the reporter notebook she carried and took notes on, which could only mean one thing: we're kinfolk. She's is a newsperson and we are connected by the notebook. Anyway, in short, I heart her and she agreed to share her crazy tales from the trenches with us. Thanks girl! Enjoy!

Eight words I could have gotten through life without saying: "I told you to stop kissing the Biebs!" Wait, make that four, considering I'd already said "Stop kissing Justin Bieber!"

Here's another number for you: she's 6.

I thought we'd have awhile before we hit this stage. But then came the birthday party for yet another 6-year-old. Credit to my friends V and J. They came home from vacation to find their daughter had been infected with the fever. And taking it in stride, they crafted a party that allowed a group of screaming pre-pre-pubescent girls, and a few boys to beat two star shaped pinatas with Justin Bieber's face pasted on the front into submission.

I took special pleasure in screaming "Beat the Biebs." The "rescue" of the photocopied Bieber face from the wreckage of the pinata was my payback.

Little did I know the spoils of the war on cardboard and colored crepe paper had been squirreled away in her bag, above the bathing suit packed in hopes the slip and slide would come out this year (oooh, yes, there's still some 6-year-old left in there!), beneath that paper cups full of candy that I tried to forget on the picnic table (yup, still 6 indeed). Little did I know it would be pulled out of the bag and slipped between the window and screen of the front door.

It was the slam of the door that keyed me in. What could she be doing out there? After I'd heard about her fear of the bees outside enough times to start jumping myself every time I heard a buzz?

There she was. Making out with Justin Bieber.

That she'd asked me just three days earlier "how old were you when you had your first kiss?" (my answer: "Um, um, um, um") suddenly starting to make sense, I flubbed it. It was a total mom fail. There was no understanding, no oh honey, let's talk about boys and girls and birds and bees (aaack, bee? where?).

No, I'll admit it. I let out a holler. Not a scream -- there's a difference, and if you're a mom, you're nodding your head right now -- a holler. "Stop kissing Justin Bieber!"

Which should have been enough, right? I mean, that was just about as much as my little heart could take as I tried to slice up veggies for dinner without cutting my index finger right off.

And for a few minutes, it was. Blissful minutes. Minutes I'll have to remember in 10 years when she hates me, when it's not a photocopied version of a boy she's kissing, when they won't even make photocopiers.
She came inside, and for those minutes, I had a 6-year-old again. A girl who plays with LEGOs and sometimes wants me to read her bedtime stories, but sometimes wants to "do it herself." A girl who isn't too cool for her Dora nightgown, but really prefers Daddy's abandoned soccer jersey. A cuddler. A kisser. A little girl.

And then I heard it again.

Slam.

The front door closing behind her.

She was back on the porch.

And back in front of the Biebs.

And they came pouring out of me, louder and more furious than before.

"I told you to stop kissing Justin Bieber!"

Ah. Motherhood. Ain't it grand?

You can catch Jeanne's musings at The Stir,  as well as her own blog, Inside Out Motherhood!

Go visit her often, she's awesome!

Do you want to share your Tales from the Trenches -- crazy stories of Motherhood?) Be a guest poster here at AMWC! Send me an email at christieo at averagemomswearcapes.com.

Holy Crap, This is My BIGGEST Fear

Yup. This pretty much sums it up for me.

(You can see the rest of the story of the diver who almost got swallowed up at MSN where I found it.)

It's National Vanilla Ice Cream DAY! (Free Ice Cream Deal for Tampa peeps)

Hey guess what?! It's National Vanilla Ice Cream Day!

Or Vanilla Ice Cream awareness day. Whichever you wanna call it.

I'm pretty much sure I'll observe it today at some point.

I also just found out that for my Tampa area friends, today at the original Outback Steakhouse location only (at 3403 Henderson Blvd. in South Tampa) Blue Bell will be giving away its best selling Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream to Outback guests from 5 to 8 p.m. in celebration of National Vanilla Ice Cream Day.*

Sweet!

I'm headed to the beach for a little mini-break in which I shall update with pictures and reports of fudge because there is a Kilwins there. (Go look at what I mean. 'Nuff said.)

By the way, if you're looking for any other fake holidays to celebrate today it is also National Hot Dog Day and National Day of the Cowboy (????) So throw on your spurs, polish off a hotdog or two and wash it down with some ice cream. Mkay?

*Ice cream is free with any dine-in purchase.

It's Fit Stella's Last Day!

Surfin' Stella!

This is Fit Stella's last day here. We're sending her off tomorrow to her new home over at Healthy Loser Gal's place and we're excited about where Fit Stella's adventures will take her!

Fit Stella's been with us all week as part of the #fitstanley project going on over at Mizfit's. And we've had so much fun with her! My sons are going to cry when it's time for her to go, they really fell in love with her. She may be a little laminated picture but she has her own personality!

We've got a special send off planned for her tonight as we send Fit Stella off in Florida style and we promise to take lots of pictures!

If you wanna find out how to get in on the Fit Stanley project, click on over to Mizfits to check it out. Have a great Friday and an awesome weekend!

What Happens in my Migraine-Inducing Stupor

That's me under the rice sock my mom made me (yes, it helps!) Not pictured: the Winnie the Pooh my 3 year old gave me.

It is nearly impossible to entertain my poor children when I'm laid out with a migraine but they did pretty good yesterday. Nothing I took worked, I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't think. They did watch some tv and play in their rooms and I only had to break up a fight or two but we all survived.

However, I do some really stupid things when I can't think.

Like the following:

1. While cooking dinner, I rested my giant Sam's Club bag of pasta on the hot burner, burning a hole in the bag, creating a second hole and spilling the pasta everywhere, including onto the hot burners. So the rogue pastas wouldn't light themselves on fire, my kids walked in on my swiping all the pasta onto the floor in a panic. This caused them some distress as to why mommy was making such a huge mess on the kitchen floor but after I told them I was saving them from a tiny pasta fire, they understood and were quite possibly thankful.

2. I then proceeded to begin measuring the pasta to put it into the boiling water but because the bag now had two holes, it was spilling into the pot through both holes in the bag and therefore I made way too much. And unless you're talking about chocolate ice cream and vanilla ice cream coming out of a machine at the same time, coming out both holes is never a good thing.

3. The huge bowl I had wasn't enough to contain all the pasta I accidentally made, so it overflowed out of the bowl and also I leaned too far over my giant mound of cooked pasta and burned my nip through my shirt.

4. After the danger of any fire was over and dinner was finally cooked (the kids loved it but it honestly smelled disgusting because most things smell disgusting when I have a migraine) I cleaned up the pasta off the floor with the dustpan and walked into the wall, spilling the pasta again.

5. After dinner, I decided it was finally time to take a shower, and I squirted a large amount of facewash in my hands and began to wash my hair.

6. Rock bottom moment of the day: bawling during Rick Steves' Europe. Something is wrong with me.

I feel better today thankyouverymuch and today I can think.

Thank goodness.

So we should all be safe when I heat up pasta leftovers for the next 5 days.

Bathing Suit Shopping & Being One with Your Dimples, er, Stories.

Sometimes I wish bathing suit shopping consisted only of trying on tops.

Because bottoms SUCK.

Next week we go on our beach vacation and my current bathing suit is in the last stages of disintegration. The top is so loose that things are in danger of breaking free and that's worst case scenario in my book, except of course other than the bottoms breaking free, and we are at critical mass with both to be perfectly honest. If something's not done soon, there will be danger.

Also my husband so nicely pointed out that my black "tankini" is a "momsuit." (Isn't he nice.) This is what he calls black bathing suits in general. He says he can tell who all the moms are because they gather in gaggles of black bathing suits.

I want to tell him to shut up.

In fact I did tell him to shut up but of course he is right.

Me and all my friends have black bathing suits.

What is so wrong with black bathing suits anyway? They are flattering! And I don't see what the problem is having a black bathing suit if it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and comfortable wearing a flimsy piece of fabric that puts my entire backside on display for society.

Anyways, last night I had to go bathing suit shopping and decided that no matter what I would actually get a new bathing suit and this time it won't be black like they have been for the past 6 years. But what does a person do instead of black? Patterns? Solids? Which solids?

I hate bathing suit shopping!

Bathing suit shopping means I have to also get in some sort of zen-like natural happy mode where I have to sort of psych myself up to be one with my beautiful lovely lady lumps. Because they take center stage in flourescence, ya know?

I want to be one with all my dimples and imperfections and generally I am (when I have pants on) but bathing suit shopping makes it especially difficult.

I don't even mind so much being out in public with my bathing suit because no one else seems to care about what they look like in a bathing suit and watching people being one with their curves is something I HEART SO MUCH! I'm trying to get there.

But being in the cubicle in flourescent lighting with your bathing suit on seems especially cruel, even if it is only you who is looking.

I always think to myself, "This summer I'm not going to hate bathing suit shopping!"

But it never happens. I always hate bathing suit shopping.

My top I can get behind. There is nothing to report up there.

But my bottom.

Well, I've decided my bottom has stories.

My legs are strong, I have great quads. They were great when I was a catcher in softball. They also rode me 40 miles on my bike last weekend and they can take me a really long ways for a really long time, dimples or not.

My legs pretty much rock.

My dimples however, don't rock. They are not pretty to look at and they make me hate bathing suit shopping. But if we're being honest here which we are, they have stories too, right? Like: oh that one I got from the Twix incident.

Or this dimple is 5 years old and it's named Aidan and this dimple is 3 years old and it's named Ryan.

And perhaps, this one right here is called "being in my mid-30's"...

Also, maybe, this one right here is called "need to lunge more" and  this one I'll give an Indian name,"Lack of Squats."

But so what, right?

I guess that as long as I can tell a story with each part, it doesn't matter if they're showing or not because there I am showing off my stories!

So I got a coral-colored tankini and it's great on top and I've got stories on the bottom.

That's one way to think about it anyway.

I gotta do what I gotta do.

What stories do your parts tell? And how was bathing suit shopping for you this year?

Fit Stella is Here!

I  don't know if you've heard of a little project going on over at Mizfit's place, but we are hosting a guest at our house and her name is Fit Stella!

Fit Stella is a lot like Flat Stanley (if you've ever heard of him) only she's a "she" and she works out more. She also loves healthy snacks.

Stella loves nectarines.

And I don't know about Flat Stanley's eating habits but Fit Stella gives us the stink eye when we talk about fast food around here. Well not really, she's always smiling, but we all know that we won't get fit eating fast food, right? And she reminds us of that which is good.

She also loves Eggbeaters.

As soon as Fit Stella arrived, by the way, the show began.

Move over, Statue of Liberty, my 5 year old is now crushin' on Fit Stella! He's already given her his baseball card.

He struts by her all macho-like and he talks about her (and to her) like she's a real "she." I've already warned him that Fit Stella likes to travel and will be going pretty soon to someone else's house but I don't think he's actually prepared for that. He's already too attached. (I have now seen it all.)

They wonder about how Fit Stella was made and I explained she was colored in by another 5 year old nicknamed "Tornado," and that was really special. It's one thing to be told about healthy eating from mom, but from your peers and from a little plastic girl named Stella, it's a whole 'nother story.

After our healthy breakfast yesterday, Fit Stella had a swim lesson. She loves the water.

Today she's going to the beach.

She sort of gave them the stink eye when the kids had Fruit Loops for breakfast so She helped us prepare a better lunch.

(Thanks Fit Stella!)

I will post more pictures of our adventures with Stella before she begins her globetrotting. The only thing is, I don't know who to send her to next!

How do I even decide?

(If you're interested in being the next participant, leave me a comment mkay?) And if you want to read more about the Fit Stella (and Fit Stanley) project, head on over to Miz's place!

Swimming With Music: Flying too Close to the Sun on Wings of Pastrami?

I had 1800 meters to swim on Sunday after renovating my bathroom all day and since that's a really long stretch of time to be in stuck in my own head and since there's not much to do except for well, swim, I wanted to try something different.

Swim with music.

That's even possible, you ask?

Why, yes. Yes it is.

I have been salivating over a waterproof I-Pod holder and waterproof earbuds for a year now, dreaming of the possibilites of having music to swim to on the long swims, perhaps even stopping to do some solo synchronized swimming in the lap pool if the mood invited me, but the ones in the stores were too expensive to rationalize.

I thought about waiting till September for my birthday and begging but I could wait no longer.
I found them new on Amazon for exactly half the price and I had some left on an Amazon gift card. Score!

And so this weekend my new best earbuds made the maiden voyage across the pool many many times but not before they passed the tissue test first which was sticking some TP inside the waterproof case and submerging it to make sure my beloved I-Pod would remain snug and dry within the safety of their new thin plastic walls.The TP survived! Hurrah!

So I was off to the pool to try them out. I slipped into the freezing pool that's supposed to be heated, put on my marathon training mix, I put on my armband, put in my earbuds, goggles, swimcap (it felt like a lot of gear like I was headed out for extended deep sea diving) and ...

At first, I felt like a cat in a sweater.

It was really awkward and I felt like I couldn't swim with one of my arms correctly. Swimming with this thing on my left arm made me feel lopsided for a while. The wire kept getting stuck and when it wasn't, I was very aware of it swimming with me and then the music was just too fast to start out and it was distracting and throwing my breathing all out of whack.

No one was in the pool area but if they were, they'd have seen someone tangled in wires swimming off to the wrong side, hyperventhilating, with foggy goggles because my goggles also decided to act up on this day too. Normally they behave.

So I was zigging and zagging because I wasn't taking a full stroke with my left arm because of the armband and I kept having to stop and fix all these things and it sounds more annoying than it was really because I actually expected this for myself. Things that take a normal person 30 seconds to figure out usually take me 30 minutes when it comes to technology. At least.
I began to think that perhaps swimming with music was like George Costanza trying to combine sex and a pastrami sandwich: perhaps they're not supposed to be together. Like George, perhaps I was flying too close to the sun on wings of pastrami.

But finally, I made one last stop and final adjustment, I switched off the fast-music playlist and put it on plain old "shuffle" and loosened the armband a little so it was not an I-Pod tournequet and thought it's got to get better than this now.

And then...something happened.

At about 600 meters in I started getting used to this!

Perhaps George was doing it wrong and it IS possible!

All my adjustments held and this was actually pretty cool!

My goggles were behaving, the wire was properly situated, and a slow song came on, specifically "I Wanna Be With You" by Mandy Moore (dontjudgeme) and I slowed down and swam.

The next couple songs were fantastic and I was really starting to dig this!

And then it occurred to me that "shuffle" really isn't my favorite option and that I was in desperate need now of a "swim play list" complete with slow songs to start out and then increasingly faster songs. Something without festival music.
Because until that moment I had forgotten about all the Filipino festival music I had downloaded for my son's Spring Festival, where they highlighted the Phillipines.

Not that there is anything wrong with music from the Phillipines, it really is quite lovely! Just a little weird to exercise to for long periods of time and there is no way to fast forward without stopping because I put my I-Pod in the locked position.

So I was stuck.

It was very international sounding, there was a lot of cheering and whistle-blowing (oddly)  as if I were literally in a parade, but as I swam on I began to get used it and it was actually pretty cool and festivally, like I was swimming through Epcot or something. It sounded like something that you would hear while on one of the long lines waiting something for a really long time but it was cheerful and very parade-like and international -- it actually wasn't so bad.

Until of course it became the song that would never end. It would take a break and I would think it was over but then it would continue on, as if it knew I was waiting for the next song and it would tease me and pretend it was ending and then say, "Just kidding!"

I listened to this one song from laps 18-25 and trust me, I'm not a fast swimmer.

It was finally over and some Coldplay came on along with some other yummies and they saved me. Before I knew it, 36 laps were completed.

Swimming with music is like running with music to me: good for the long training sessions. Like this one.

Sure it takes some getting used to, but in the end, it was pretty cool!

I just need to make myself a better playlist for next time.

I will actually review the gear itself in a separate post (I bought it, it wasn't given to me to try out or anything), and I actually found an amazing deal on some good stuff, so I'm excited to pass that along.

I can't wait to do it again now that I got all the kinks worked out!

Have you ever swam with music? Would you?

(Do you swim? You should. It's really fun.)

The Prettiest Place to Potty Ever

We finished renovating my bathroom today.

I don't even remember when we started it but the feeling of being done is so sweet. I think we started it 6 months ago but that's how things go around here.

My favorite part was when we were taking up the tile and some shards were flying up and hitting my dad in the arms, we fastened arm protectors out of my knee-high socks by cutting the feet off.

We are genius.

My second favorite part was when my husband and dad were putting the toilet back on, the wax ring slipped off and my dad stepped in it.

Bahahahahaha!

I will post the before and after pictures this week.

But right now it's the prettiest place to poop in the whole house. You'll have to take my word for it.

The Best Antipasto Salad Ever (Worthy of a Dude's Love aka My Dad and Husband's Fave)

Courtesy: Food Network

I have a recipe in my recipe binder with a notation on it in pen: "Evan and dad's favorite!"

Yes I like to keep notes on the stuff my dudes like. Plus it helps my case when I need them to do stuff for me. Just kidding. Not really.

This recipe for antipasto salad is adapted from my favorite Food Network lady Giada, it has salami and turkey and cheese and noodles, it is to die for. It is perfect for parties because it can sit at room temperature for a while and it's also a great dish to bring to someone if they've just had a baby or has something going on in their life where you just want to bring them a dish. I always double it and bring it to the NICU showers we throw every year.

Here is the original Antipasto recipe, I make some changes in parenthesis.
Ingredients:

Red Wine Vinaigrette:
1 bunch fresh basil, stemmed and leaves chopped (about 2 cups)
1/4 cup red wine vinegar (However, I've used balsamic and cider vinegars when I was out of red wine)
1 clove garlic
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

Antipasto Salad:
1 pound fusilli pasta (I never use fusilli, I always use multi-colored rotini or spirals)
1/2 cup hard salami, cut into strips (I consider this a "recommended amount" LOL, I add lotsa meat.)
1/2 cup smoked turkey, cut into strips (again, "recommended" about 3 ounces -same as above, lotsa meat.)
1/4 cup provolone cheese, cut into strips
1/4 cup grated Asiago cheese (I use shaved parmesan.)
2 tablespoons green olives, halved and pitted
2 tablespoons roasted red peppers, cut into strips
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Directions:
Vinaigrette: In a blender, add the basil, vinegar, garlic, mustard, salt and pepper. Blend until the herbs are finely chopped. With the machine running, drizzle in the olive oil until the dressing is smooth.

Cook pasta. In a large bowl, toss together the cooked pasta with the remaining salad ingredients. Drizzle with dressing and toss to coat. Serve. Don't be shy, double it if you want!

Amazing!

Now I want it.

Lies and Twix

I identify with this girl.

Last night we went to the least hoopty Wal-Mart near me because there are two and this one's further away but it's nicer, to get some of life's essentials: Green Lantern underwear, some kiddie bathing suits, and some giant plastic containers to shove my closet into when I attempt to clean it at some point probably never (with pink lids and that snap, too! Bonus!)

I was in the checkout line when I made a gametime decision and stuck a double Twix on the belt BECAUSE IT'S THAT TIME OF THE MONTH AND I EFFING NEED SOME CHOCOLATE DAMMIT.

I added it quite inconspicuously behind the large bins so as to not draw attention to it and have to share. MINE, ALL MINE!

Of course the lady blew my cover and stuck it near the credit card swipey thing and they both spotted it from their little cart-seats, got giddy and got that crazy candy-gleam in their eyes.

So I quickly said, "Look over there!" and pointed out the door (yes that still works) and I stuck the Twix in one of the bags, while giving the cashier the stink-eye. She got my point.

I thought it was all done and overwith but my 5 year old has a mind like a steel trap and that's why distracting him with shiny objects never ever worked, not even as a baby. It used to make me crazy when people would say, "Just distract him!" because they didn't understand, THAT DOESN'T WORK.

Of course he didn't let it go.

Out in the parking lot, Mommy, where did that candy go?

Candy? What candy?

"I put it back," I find myself telling him.

Yes. I lied. I am not proud.

And I just want you to know I don't make a habit of lying to anyone, including my 5 year old, I might leave out some information to my kids and offer information on an as-needed basis, but I always tell the truth so I don't even know why I lied, perhaps because of the overwhelming urge to NOT SHARE in this situation I don't know. Hormones make you do crazy things. Like lie to your 5 year old about candy.

I am like Gollum the Twix is "my precious."

I see his face registering, not letting it go but not bringing it up again either but I'm waiting for it.

Whew.

It is dropped.

We go to McDonalds to meet my dad and have some ice cream near the play area (yes, the ice cream was the immediate fix, it is nonfat ice cream if that makes you feel better, the Twix is for the reserves. Don'tjudgeme.)

After the lunacy and germfest of the play area and the giant iced coffee I got, we head home.

It's way past bedtime.

The car conversation goes like this:

Aidan: Mommy, I want you to prove bedtime. (I can tell he has no idea what he means.)
Me: What do you mean?
Aidan: What does 'prove' mean?
Me: It means you have to see something in order to believe it.
Aidan: I want you to prove you gave back the candy.

Dammit!

So we get home and as I'm getting the bags out, I shove the candy in my purse. Because I'm not going down for a Twix!

We barely get into the door and they want to immediately put on their dinosaur and Green Lantern underwears that they picked out so one is busy getting nekkid near the front door and the other one is rifling through the bags, I'm assuming, looking for the Twix.

He comes up empty.

He puts on his Green Lanterns, everyone helps clean up our messes from the day and we get ready to watch the tail end of Diego. It has now been hours since Wal-Mart.

Mommy, I want to see inside your purse.

What is this? Freakin CSI?

Of course I immediately feel like I've stashed a body or something and I'm busted but it's just a Twix and I try to remember that as the guilt begins to overwhelm me.

I make up yet another lie. Well it's not in my purse, if I'd have kept it, it'd have been in the bags.

What is wrong with me!? I may as well have said, "So there, nanny nanny boo boo," after that.

(Thank God I thought ahead to put my purse in my room. Yes, somewhere deep down, I knew he'd ask to look in my purse.)

I'm stressed out about the web of Twix lies I've weaved. And ashamed.

As well I should be, I'm setting a terrible precedent here.

I can hear the Twix from the other room now, it is like the Telltale Heart it just gets louder and louder reminding me of my inner chocolate-filled pms devil.

I need to stop this and go out in the garage and eat this thing already before someone catches me.

I'll see ya later.

He's Gone Off the Deep End! My 5 Year Old's Swimming!

OK so I was just complaining that we haven't accomplished much this summer but that is almost sort of not true now, hurrah!

We have a swimmer!

Aidan (who is 5) jumped off the diving board yesterday into the 11 foot end and then swam to the side.

All.by.himself. OK well the jumping part was by himself and the swimming was by himself but he had a little help in the middle.

A HUGE far cry from the little boy who clung to me in the 5 foot "deep end" at my parents' pool just three weeks ago.

I took video of this. He says he looks like an alligator swimming to the edge and he's right, you only see his tiny head.

Having at least one swimmer for vacation this year is so much less stressful than having two non-swimmers and being at the beach and/or pool, right? And also, there is a chance that my 3 year old might have just grown out of chasing the tiny birds up the entire coast of the beach which means no more embarrassing running up the entire coast chasing him in my bathing suit!

Progress.

I think this is going to be a good vacation.

Question: How Do You Grow Out Your Hair? And Update on Hairsaster.

A couple of weeks ago, I got a handwritten letter from my former hairstylist.

Remember the one responsible for this?

The Zebra Stripe Hairsaster of 2010

And this?


WHAT THE HELL is this? I said, "BOB!" not "CHOP!"

I am still trying to grow out those man-layers. It happened forever ago, it is July, we are almost there. Kill me now.

I have since fired her. Ok well she doesn't really know she's been fired, I secretly fired her, I am not the confrontational type. I just stopped going.

Anyways, recently she sent me a handwritten letter in blue pen on a piece of torn out notebook paper with scratchouts and misspellings on it inviting me to come visit her at her new salon. I am now convinced I made the right move. Not that I needed convincing. I had manhair.

I'm sort of glad that she's no longer where she used to be because now I don't have to cower in fear at the mall that she might spot me as I walk by headed toward Children's Place or Build-a-Bear. Yes it was a place in the mall. It was very convenient, don't judge me.

So now I've found a new home for my hair and I'm thrilled. For my Tampa Bay friends it's called Sophisticated Styles in Palm Harbor.

The man who does my hair is the owner and he is my literally my hairsaster savior. I plopped down a few months ago and said, "Fix me, please, I beg you." And he has. He blended, he snipped, my hair is no longer a damaged ball of mess, it is healthy and flourishing and growing again. (Thank you!)

He likes me (or pretends to which is fine by me), I like him, he understands me and my hair, it's a beautiful relationship. This place also fills a couple other salon prerequisites for me: it's very reasonable and he can get me in last minute, which is what I like because I don't like to make appointments 6 weeks in advance and my roots turn on me in 1.2 seconds.  If the place ever goes out of business I will die.

So right now I'm in hair heaven.

Except ironically now I want to grow it out. Allll out. I'm so tired of the short hair and hairsaster potential and the blonde Mary Lou Retton, it has to go.

So badly. I loved the convenience of short hair but I gotta be honest. It ain't sexy hair. At least not on me. It matches my minivan and my yoga pants uniform.

So now I need to know from you: what are your hair-growing secrets? Last night I found this article on how to grow long hair because I'd love to aid the process even though I already know it will take a while which will include a long period of awkwardness. And according to the article I have already violated rules #4, 5 and 6 (repeatedly) so I hope that doesn't mean I'm screwed. (Am I?)  I'd love to hear your experience!

Are there any brands of shampoos, leave-ins, hot oils, you use? Vitamins? And have you ever started from scratch like me? It used to be that my hair grew like a weed but something happened after I had babies, my hair stops at a certain length. Have you had that happen?

I am aiming for this:

Is it possible? Or are we talking Christmas 2013?

ps. My review of Winnie the Pooh is up over at 5 Minutes for Mom! Go check it out! I LOVED it.

The Summer Before

It's summer.

So far, we've done a lot of swimming through swim lessons and at my parents' pool. We've done some Disney and Children's Museum on the weekends and we've done one week of camp but only because that was the week I was going to LA.

And also, like every summer, we passed around a stomach thing for a little over a week. It's kind of our thing.

I always have big dreams for the summer that seem to fizzle by the end of June. Our roadtrips, our "activities," and play dates, group outings to the spray parks, home organization, bathroom renovations, lots and lots of beach since we live 10 minutes away, etc etc etc.

I don't know what happens but every year the summer gets away and leaves me in the dust wondering what we actually did all summer and why did it not seem like enough?

Well I guess I did organize my laundry room.

But now it's the summer before my son goes to Kindergarten. The very last summer before he's in school for like, ever.

I feel like I should have had something epic planned (I promised I'd never use the word "epic" in a post by the way.) But I didn't. In a little over a week, we'll be headed out for our yearly one-week beach vacation which is far away enough to be considered "away" but still sort of close to home. It'll be a week of relaxation at a beach that's quite beautiful and somewhat unpopulated but like every year that week will just fly by too. However, there will be fudge.

And then soon after it flies by I'll be dropping him off at Kindergarten.

I am desperately trying to cling to this summer (can you tell?).

I didn't set out to write about Kindergarten but darnit now I am sitting here crying thinking about Kindergarten.

Perhaps I'll go get some coffee now.

But I wonder, what did you do the summer before Kindergarten? And if you're not there yet, is there anything special you would do? 

We still have some time left.

Be like George Costanza. Do the OPPOSITE

It's no secret that I live half my life according the Seinfeld series.

My life in fact is made of up a series of Tommy Boy and Seinfeld references and I seem to surround myself with people who do the same.

This week I had a good workout and decent nutrition week and I realize now it's because I emulated my hero, George Costanza who said:

"I ALWAYS have tuna on toast. Nothing's ever worked out for me with tuna on toast. I want the complete opposite of tuna on toast!

Do you remember that episode? (Go watch a minute, it hilarious).

Of course it's not about the tuna, it's about going against my instincts to do the following: eat french fries, be lazy, cut my workout short and eat badly. (Of course he goes on to "get the girl" because he did the opposite of what he would have normally done... so see? It must work, right?)

What happens is the usual tale about mind versus body. My body tells me one thing (it's lazy, it's craving something, etc.) My brain begins to consider these things as fact and eventually becomes convinced somehow that my body is right even when it isn't and then it eventually agrees to whatever sabotaging setup my body has created for itself.

Well no more!

Because I'm doing the opposite!

When I want fast food, I eat good food!

When I wanna be lazy, I will do whatever the opposite of lazy is at the time! (I can't think of the opposite word for lazy. But in this scenario it probably has something to do with folding and putting away laundry and/or making time for exercise.)

When I want to flight I'm gonna fight!

When my instinct is fear, I'm gonna be fearless!

See, the more George disobeyed his instincts, which usually got him into trouble, the more successful he became! And it worked for me last week so this is what I'm doing.

I'M DOING THE OPPOSITE!

I suppose if you're on the right track already, doing the opposite will not work. So don't do that.

If not, turn off your brain and DO THE OPPOSITE!

And see what happens.

Happy Sunday!

Happy Sunday, friends!

I hope you're chillaxing like we are. Had a decent brick but it's just so darned hot. Don't forget, today's the last day to take advantage of the discount over at Girlz N Gear!





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Have a great day!

Recipe: Low-Fat, Low Cal Creamy Alfredo-ey Sauce. Yes it can be done.

Fettuccine Alfredo is my favorite thing ever. I allow myself to partake in the fullfat version of its luxurious sauce at a restaurant on a quarterly basis but in between when I need my fix, I have my own sauce and it is really really good. So good that I can actually push the "quarterly" fullfat version out a little. Sometimes.

It started out as just a white sauce, in fact it really is just a plain basic white sauce. But one day I added some parmesan cheese to it and made an alfredo. And one day I added low-fat cheddar to it and made cheddar sauce. It's a great sauce to play with! And a great sauce for alfredo too.

So here's my recipe for:

Low-Fat-ish, Low Cal-ish Alfredo Sauce

The ingredients:
2 tbsp. flour
2 tbsp. butter
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. pepper
1 cup skim milk
4-6 tbsp grated parmesan cheese (depending on your taste).
Directions:
Melt butter in sauce pan on medium.. Slowly add flour and whisk with wire whisk until creamy. Slowly add milk while stirring. Keep stirring and stirring and stirring until it starts to boil and thicken. Do not take your eyes off cream sauce, it clumps and burns quickly. Keep stirring! When it thickens, add salt & pepper and keep stirring. Then add parmesan cheese (or any other cheese) while stirring. (You can easily double the ingredients to make a little more sauce, I usually do.)

For some reason, I think of the day I successfully made my first white sauce as a turning point in my marriage and as a cook. I say "successfully" because up until that point, I had burned it so many times and couldn't get the hang of it. The same with gravy.

Until one day.

Now I have skillz and I'm pretty proud of my sauces.

And ever since then, actually, I could cook pretty well. Except I ruined green Jell-O the other day and it still baffles me how I did that.

Anyway, you can add chicken to the sauce and pour it over your favorite fettuccine noodles (I love the spinach ones and also I'm having a love affair don't tell my husband  with the new Garden Delights pastas out there now.) You can also pour it over vegetables. You don't need to use too much, just enough to get your fix. It's not calorie-fat-free, but it's a LOT better than the full-fat version.

Enjoy!

Red Friday: An Update from Afghanistan (A Prayer Request)

Now that's a sight for sore eyes right there.

It's Red Shirt Friday and every Friday my blog wears a red ribbon, turns red, or we ourselves wear red while my brother-in-law, Zach, is away fighting in Afghanistan. He and my sister Anna have a little girl, my goddaughter Maddie, and they have another little girl on the way.

Zach does get to use the phone and videophone to call home but he can never say when. The guys wait in line sometimes for 2 hours to call home. Anna's phone is glued to her.

I pray for all of them every day, for his safe return and for their strength while he is away. It is tough on them. For the first couple weeks he was away, little Maddie had night terrors. She would wake up screaming and tear up her room. She is only 2 1/2 but boy does she love her daddy. You can see it in her eyes, even when she looks at the giant cardboard cutout of him.


She's telling him what she's drawing. She looks like an angel.

That is a Flat Daddy of Zach, by the way; a life-sized cardboard cutout of him. Anna got it after Zach's first deployment, before Maddie was born, but boy has it been helpful.

My sister works and holds down the fort quite well while he's away but honestly I don't know how she does it. She's got the strength of a battalion of men. Talk about wearing a cape.

The update from Afghanistan makes me scared and prayerful. This is from Anna this week:

Pass this on to family and friends. Ask that everyone say their prayers. The 3/4 Marines are taking many casualties and are constantly under pressure from local Taliban. Our good friend was injured, MEDEVAC'd and is now recovering, and many, many of Zach's other friends are sustaining life altering injuries..Zach is doing OK. Sends his love. Nothing new, just misses being home and his family.

The troops and their families need our prayers (or kind thoughts-- whatever it is you have in your heart) for strength and healing.

There is a reporter embedded with Zach's company. John Cantlie has been blogging about it for two weeks on his blog, Fast Features.

I can't read it.

It scares me too much and makes my imagination go wild and as soon as I open it I start crying. I will read it when Zach comes home safely or maybe I will make myself read it before then. But do, please, feel free to click on it and read about Zach's company and what's happening over there.

(By the way, no, they are not coming home early. Everyone is coming home when they were scheduled in November hopefully, not "early" as reported. The Marines, anyway. I'm not sure about anyone else.)

Finally, I didn't get to post on the 4th of July and I feel bad about that (was hugging the bowl after catching some awful bug from the kids but these things happen).

But I want to wish everyone a very belated Happy 4th of July!

Thank you to all of our servicemen and women past, present and future for the freedom we enjoy as Americans today. Including you, Zach, and all of the men and women you fight alongside of every day. You are in our hearts and in our minds.

I love you bro. Stay strong, little root.

Giving Yourself Credit

Do you give yourself enough credit?

I know I don't.

I probably don't actually know the answer about you, but I am pretty confident anyway that the answer is "no" for you too. And that's a shame. I realized that this morning. There is a serious case of credit debt going on around here and it has nothing to do with anyone's financial situation.

Here's my theory on credit. I didn't know I have one but now apparently I do.

I think perhaps so many of us know someone who maybe, perhaps, might give themselves a little too much credit. And as a result, and out of fear of giving ourselves too much credit, we overcompensate their overcompensation, with undercompensation. (Does that make sense?) Like somehow it evens out the world or karma or something.

And I realize there are a lot of "compensations" in that sentence but the only compensation that's going on is actually going to other people! None of those compensations are even for us! We're so afraid of going over the line that we go way way under. We think that giving ourselves too much credit isn't fair to other people (they may in fact be taking other people's credit in the meantime in order to supply themselves with more as the case may be.)

But taking none for yourself isn't fair either.

Consider this.

It's not like you can even save credit for someone else because this type of credit isn't like the credit situation in our country, credit can be given where credit is due and there is no ceiling on how many people can give themselves credit where credit is due, or rather, what I like to call, mad props, yo.

There might be a personal ceiling; an amount of credit that is too much for one person. But just because someone takes too much of it for themselves doesn't mean there's not enough left for other people. In fact, it's probably why we get so mad when someone takes our credit. Because we already don't give ourselves enough credit and now someone's gotta take the little that we're not even claiming? (That part is infuriating!)

But let's just say for a second that we live in a perfect world where no one takes other people's credit. Let's just leave that out of the equation entirely. Because we can just ignore those people anyway in real life. (I usually run far far away from them myself. I can't handle the stress as I get older.)

Let's just get back to our own credit.

How do you feel when someone else does something amazing and then when they're done and you say, "WOW!!!!! GREAT JOB!!" they respond with, "Yeah, I guess it was ok."

Don't you want to shake them and say, "LOOKIE!! LOOKIE AT WHAT YOU DID, THAT WAS AWESOME! You should be PROUD!"

And sometimes we do actually shake them. And they still shrug and say, "I don't know, it was nothing."

(Are you either one of those people in the scenario? I have personally been both.)

So right there. That's the perfect example of credit left unspoken for, left out in the cold, flapping in the breeze. Poor poor, homeless credit. It can't even go to someone else! And now you've gone and left it out in the cold with no home whatsoever (don't you have a heart!?)

See, only you can take it. But yet it goes unclaimed.

We might be hardwired to believe that taking credit where credit is due is actually selfish. But when we don't take it, we actually do ourselves a great disservice. (Not to mention, there is poor homeless credit lying abandoned in gutters everywhere.)

Why, what's the big deal, you ask? What happens when you don't take it (and who really cares anyway?)

Well frankly, not too many people will care that much if you don't take the credit, (it's annoying to people when you take too much and it's annoying to people if you don't take any) but when you continually don't take credit it does something to your insides and you're the only one you hurt.

For one, it lessens your accomplishment. Whatever it is you accomplished becomes "just ok," "mediocre," and "average," when the truth is, it probably isn't. There are things you do that other people simply do not do, for either lack of skill, patience, or basic guts & instinct. And even if other people somewhere in the world can do it and even maybe perhaps better, so what? YOU did it. YOU did. And you should be proud of that!

And because secondly, if you are not proud of that, your confidence falls prey to getting sucked right out into the confidence-sucking-vortex of unclaimed mad props. And you need that confidence to fuel yourself to keep going, keep working and keep building. Throwing your confidence into the confidence-sucking vortex is like throwing all your energy into the energy-sucking vortex and then at the end, ya got nothin.

Ah. I see.

But you still don't know how to actually accept and hold the credit, do you?

(That's ok. I have trouble with this one myself but I think I at least know how. It's the follow through that's the hard part. And also the breaking of the bad habit that is not accepting credit.)

How to give yourself credit

Step One: First, simply give yourself permission. Tell yourself it's ok to be proud of yourself and that it's ok to give yourself mad props. It is not selfish to do so. It is not selfless to let the credit lay homeless in a ditch either. It is, in fact, your personal responsibility to accept credit where credit is due.

Step Two: Accept it! If you're that afraid of looking like a tool by accepting the credit for what you did, there are ways you can accept credit without being a showoff about it. It's true! Just accept it nicely on the outside, have a beer (or two) and celebrate, on the outside you can keep it a low key but visibly happy party, but ON THE INSIDE (where it really counts!) make sure you throw a complete luau and overthetop MTV version of my sweet 16! Be proud of yourself! Let it fill you with confidence! You don't have to ooze with it, but be sure to allow yourself to shine!

Step Three: REPEAT!

I do, completely, understand the irony of this post coming from a person who is currently in an insane amount debt for giving herself credit, that's actually why I am writing this post.

I realized this morning that I am fed up with my current state of lack-of-self-credit-giving and that failure to accept credit is a confidence-sucking vortex.

(Really I just like saying "vortex." It's my favorite word right now.)

I was swimming this morning and currently, I feel like a shark in the water going really fast but the truth is I'm not, and I told my friend "It's like I'm paddling paddling paddling but I'm swimming in place."

However, I did swim a mile. She watched my form and told me I have good form. There is tweaking to be done, as in anything (and also probably nothing that simply more swimming won't overcome), but her words to me?

"You have to give yourself more credit."

Apparently it struck a chord with me because here I am writing this post.

So let's do ourselves a small favor and accept some credit, mkay? If not for yourself, for the poor homeless attention-starved credit out there cowering in the world all by itself. Claim it! It's lonely!

It is your duty!

(I'm going to give myself some credit for swimming a mile (however imperfect it was), cleaning the kitchen, making pancakes and having my coffee, all before 7:30 this morning.)

Now get on out there and give yourself some credit too.

You totally deserve it.