OK...I Can't Handle This Anymore. I May Have Just Broken Up With My Boyfriend, But I Need to Blog, and I Need to Laugh--So Here Goes...

This is what happens when Lisa Rinna lets her dog accompany her to her dermatologist's office for collagen injections. It's only fun if you share with your furry friends!

This is precisely why I never open up any of my electronics. I don't understand technological mumbo jumbo, or how anything technologically advanced works. I'm pretty sure if I popped the top off of my computer I would find out that 4 Oompa Loompas are really the key to my wireless internet connection--much like this person found out that a computer mouse really does come with its own rodent inside. This is why they came up with the concept of the "roller ball mouse". Fluffy needed a toy in his office.

Silly Bush--the kitten was for Laura. Your crow is still on the grill. (See how nice I am? A Democrat who didn't make a joke with sexual innuendos about you eating a cat--you're welcome...now go get your crow, George. And I realize that over half of my friends are Republicans, so don't get all fired up about this. Look at it as we are really "cancelling out" each other's votes on election day, k? **Hugs**)

Awww...see...cute puppy picture. Now you have to like me again. Not so much? Ok.

"David Beckham??!!! Ahhhhhhhhhh! Can I have your autograph before you kick my head off?" This is what happens when the Humane Society combines fundraising events with MLS events (that's Major League Soccer--I know cuz I Googled it)

I saw a prairie dog doing this to one of it's pancaked comrades on the road one day. Super sad. Is this how you get Mad Chick disease?--because I think I have it. Just kidding. I only have it every 28 days. Sheesh--I can't even kid around with you people.

I didn't think you were supposed to play football this far into your pregnancy, but don't worry--I'm a labor and delivery nurse. I can help you. Just don't spike the baby in the end zone. PS--I didn't know Under Armour made maternity apparel. I'm always the last to know.

Oh, Whitney!!!! You're SO funny! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Stop. NO REALLY! STOP! I can't take it anymore! I think you just split one of my stripes. I think I just pee'd...and I don't have any kitty litter underneath me! Hee hee hee hee! Ho ho ho ho! Ha ha ha ha!

(See...he thinks I'm funny)

Ok, normally I don't put up a whole lot of Jesus stuff--especially because I hate the whole "crucifixion" concept. However, although these guys thought they were clever, they should really pray harder for correct answers before they dive right into a photo op with the Savior. Jesus specifically told me He wanted to be the "M", not the "Y". Don't be greedy--it's one of the seven deadly sins.

And just to prove to you that I know for a fact that He wanted to be the "M" in YMCA, it's because He's already been the "Y" at the University of Notre Dame. Actually, one of my friends captioned this photo once to say, "Touchdown, Jesus!". It is a football school, so that's probably what He really was saying. Either that or they just scored a field goal.

And this is why I'm flying Alaska Airlines to Maui. I like my moose to pull an igloo over the Pacific Ocean. That stretch buggy is WAY too heavy for one horse, BTW. Sheesh.

Oh my goodness. This is the first hippo I've seen with dark hair. And now that I've seen it I feel like I need IV antibiotics.

I bet you didn't know that I have a pocket ninja, did you? Be afraid...be VERY afraid. (PS he feels a little bit like a booger when he hits you--just to give you a heads-up)

This should certainly take care of any fear people have of dentists. On another note, did I ever tell you about the time that I took my 8 year old daughter into the doctor's office to have stitches removed from her chin and they sent me a nurse with a prosthetic hook arm to do the removal? Because they did. Now try to picture being 8 years old and seeing Captain Hookette coming after your face with scissors. True story. I can't make this up. My daughter screamed so loud I had to take her home and remove them myself. That will be $800.00 please. I should've charged them for therapy.

Don't worry--we put a bucket of water underneath him in case he fell. And don't even think about calling PETA--we put a hamster snorkel in the bucket of water. Good lord--we're not THAT mean. This was part of the huge expo at this year's "House Pet Darwin Awards". Eventually we showed mercy and put Skippy back on his wheel in his aquarium thingy. We even gave him extra fresh wood chips and a Nalgene BPA- free water bottle with that little ball bearing that had Crest White Gel on it for being a good sport. Our hamster has the whitest teeth this side of Appalachia. If he wins next year he gets Invisalign teeth.

You're right--there is nothing funny about you. You're a monkey that has cheese with a frowny face on it between your legs. I don't get it. I guess maybe if it were Swiss cheese it might be funny. Let me think about it for a minute--nope...still not funny.

I hate it when they show this picture of me. First of all--I hate my bangs. Every time I get them I regret them. Second, this was not my best choice for bikini colors--the orange on orange really washes me out. Of course I didn't find this out until I consulted the fashion experts on Jersey Shore, but at least I finally figured it out. Third--that's not my best smile. Usually it's a little softer. It's close to my best smile, but not quite.

And last, but not least, this just proves that polar bears can't read. Because of that, I don't think they can sue for damages. This bear actually looks like he/she is screaming. Sorry, I couldn't zoom the photo to get it anatomically correct--not only that but I don't know what polar bear junk looks like and I'm not going to google that because I'm afraid of what will show up. Well...I'm sure he/she earned his native name after this. He/she is now known as "Falling Bear". Get it?...Falling Bear?...cuz he/she fell. I thought it was funny (not really...I'm just tired and all blogged out).

Peace.

And They Lived Happily Ever After…At Least That Was The Hypothesis

It happened. My fairytale relationship with my Cute Alaskan Man came to a conclusion. And not the, “Let’s take a few weeks off, we’ll realize how miserable we are without one another, and get back together” conclusion. Nope…the “stick a fork in it—it’s done” conclusion. We’ve broken up before, but every time we get back together nothing changes—and we break up again. It’s sucky, and stupid, but true. We have been perpetually "stuck" in stagnant mode for a year and a half.

After knowing each other for 14+ years, and dating for nearly three of those years, I finally concluded that, although I despise Beyonce, she had it right with the whole, “If you like it then you should’ve put a ring on it” thing. If that song is now stuck in your head I apologize.  Don’t worry—it makes me hostile and grumpy, too. I'm not a Beyonce fan.

Most people break up and spend the entire day in bed sobbing their eyes out (assuming they weren’t thrilled to get rid of their mate--which I wasn't). Then they roll out of bed long enough to grab the Bon Bons out of the freezer and hop right back into their duvet-covered, relationship-grieving, Sleep Number grave. I won’t lie—I did have a moment like this today. I got up this morning, grabbed the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and my Diet Pepsi, and went back to bed. Now don’t peg me as being just like the depressed Bon Bon-eater-breaker-upper person. I actually get up every morning of my life and head straight for the chocolate and Diet Pepsi—this is my norm. I don’t normally take them back to bed with me, so this is where I could tell I wasn’t feeling very good about the situation this morning. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The sadness took over. And my eyeballs were bloodshot from crying last night and into this morning. I had all the super unreasonable thoughts going through my head that rejected people who go through breakups think. There was the “My Life sucks” thought; the “I’m never going to find another man who will love me the way he did” thought; the “Oh great—now they’re going to start bombarding my Facebook page with ads for singles because I changed my Facebook status to SINGLE” thought; the “I look like holy hell this morning—no wonder I don’t have a boyfriend anymore” thought; the “I’m going to end up a single, bitter, man-hater, old maid like Kate Gosselin, only TLC won’t even give me a TV show because I only have 4 kids instead of 8 or 20 kids like Kate and those Duggar people, and I’d have to change my name to Elanor so it could be “Elanor Plus Four” because Whitney doesn’t even rhyme with four!!!” thought—yeah, I was a little pathetic…I won’t lie. Sorry—I get hysterical in run-on sentences in my head sometimes and they translate into actual text on my blog.

Anywho—amidst the sea of pathetic-ness that I was drowning in this morning, I got a phone call. I had just said a prayer to God and said, “My life is in Your hands—I will go where you want me to go.” Well Lo and Behold—on the other end of the phone I heard, “Aloha, Whitney!”. OMG…it was Paradise Vacations, returning my phone call about the trip to Maui I had decided to try to book after my relationship dumpster dived into the toilet yesterday. Sometimes I find the timing of things in this life to be quite spooky.

Needless to say, my trip got booked. 2 nights in Seattle and 7 nights in Maui--alone. This is the first exotic vacation I’ve taken by myself—ever. Some of you might be saying, “An exotic vacation alone?...who does that?” I does that. See, when I fell in love with Tristan it was LONG before he fell in love with me. Granted, he had known me for years. Some of those years I was married (no, those weren’t the “I’m in love with Tristan” years—I was a VERY dedicated wife). However, Tristan and I never dated back in college--we were just good friends. After my divorce in 2008 he was the only man I had on my mind. I loved him before I ever kissed him. I was convinced that he was my Prince Charming and that I had bypassed the most amazing man in the world in college. If he had asked me after the very first date to marry him I would’ve absolutely said, “YES.” I was whipped from the get-go. It’s very hard to be in a relationship that is THAT lopsided.  Don’t get me wrong, I never doubted that he loved me—he just didn’t know how to juggle me from 3,000 miles away, plus his wanting to build a house in Alaska, loving his job, family, and friends up in Alaska, and the most recent sucker punch I took—he bought a boat up there…which is fine but it’s one more thing to build a life up there, 3,000 miles away from me and solidify the fact that I’m in a go-nowhere relationship. It didn’t work for me anymore. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too. If there is no compromise and sacrifice in relationships then things don’t work. I completely understand that he has a good thing going up in Alaska, and I don't begrudge him that—but if I don’t fit into that picture then it just is what it is. Time to put on my hiking stilettos...

Anyway, I read an article in a magazine once where Jennifer Aniston took a tropical vacation by herself after she got kicked in the teeth by Brad Pitt. It sounded amazing. I told Tristan after his very first trip to Colorado that if we didn’t end up making it I was going to take myself to Maui to rehabilitate from the disappointment and heartbreak. I was going to pull an “Aniston” and go hang out in my bikini all by myself. So I’m going to do just that—July 24^th-August 2nd. Signed. Sealed. Delivered. I’ve got plane tickets, a condo, hotel rooms in Seattle, and a car. I will be listening to “Two Pina Coladas” by Garth Brooks on my iPod and living it up with my pedicured toes and Brazilian bikini waxed butt in the sand come the end of July. I call it “relationship rehab”. 


There is a guy at my church who has a son who lives in Kihei on Maui. He tried to set me up with him a while back, but I was dating Tristan. I decided to finally take him up on the offer to contact him. My girlfriend today said, “Oh great! So from one long distance relationship to another!” to which I replied, “NO. Although I must say I have a knack for acquiring men in the 49^th and 50^th states!!!” No—it will be nice to have a local contact on this trip and someone who knows where a nice place to grab a drink is—AND THAT’S ALL. I’m done having a relationship that requires a telephone stuck to my head more than it does lips stuck to my mouth.

If you need me I’ll be sipping pina coladas on my balcony that overlooks the ocean in beautiful Maui. And THAT my friends, is how you heal a broken heart. **KA-chow**Z-Snap*

"Just A Few Things I Will Never Understand-, By Whitney"-From Bluetooths to Pantyhose...The Whitney 411

First of all--let me just start off by saying, "I'm a blonde." I confess my blondness. I am fairly well educated. I have two degrees in science, and I have a job that actually requires me to save lives from time-to-time. However, there are always going to be things in this life I do not understand.

I started to reflect upon my "lack of knowledge" regarding random things I don't understand in this life today. Please view the above photo. Although the "Hoe Down Hotties" above are from the 1970s, what the heck is up with couples who intentionally MATCH their clothing? I drove by a house today and saw a husband and wife in khaki shorts with matching aquamarine tees. They looked like Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumette. I'm sure they were a super nice couple, but WHAT MAKES PEOPLE DO THIS? Is it like you're in adult summer day camp and you're worried you might lose your spouse? Do you coordinate outfits to go to Home Depot on the weekend, and in case your husband gets lost in the lawn mower section you'll know how to spot him and save him? I don't get it. However, I especially like his shirt--bilateral plaid man boob pockets. Tres sexy. :

Back in college, my best friend was going on a trip to Anchorage, Alaska with her boyfriend. I adore this girl, and she is going to kill me for writing this. However, one night while we were in our dorm room, her then dorky boyfriend came upstairs to "check" on her packing progress. He actually got mad at her for packing clothing in a certain colored suitcase because they didn't match his. What? How does this happen? My gal pal never did end up color coordinating her luggage with her boyfriend's. Eventually he ditched her and ran off with his best friend, George. **SHOCKING** (PS I **heart you** LB)

What else don't I understand?....

Pantyhose with open-toed shoes. When did this become ok? I've seen so many people do this, and it is an utter fashion disaster. It looks like wannabe sexy toes poking through mucous membranes. I don't care if you have a seamless toe, or a full-on hemline on your pantyhose toes. It's just WRONG. I do agree that lycra makes your thighs look amazing, but if they can come up with friggin' Toe Shoes then they can't come up with "Toes Hose"--lycra to form fit every toe on pantyhose. Make me a millionaire right now for my idea--and PS I just now copyrighted that name. And where did the name "pantyhose" come from? Sounds like you're trying to put out a fire with your unmentionables.

The Bluetooth headset. Why is it called that? First of all, most of them aren't blue.. Second, when did it become normal to have a tooth in your ear? Why did they not listen to me when I voted to call it what it really is--a cell phone hearing aid? The concept of the bluetooth freaks me out. Anything to do with the concept of a mouth touching an ear freaks me out. I hate things touching my ears. I'm like Warren from the movie "There's Something About Mary"--you know...the big guy who wore the earmuffs who would freak out and kick the crap out of anyone who touched his ears or his earmuffs? That's totally me. My kids think it's funny to freak me out by hugging me and breathing heavily in my ear. My boyfriend was joking around with me one day and actually thought it would be funny to pin me down, and give me a "tongue wet willy" in my ear just to see how much it would make me scream. I screamed--then I had to refrain from kicking him in the crotch and punching him between the eyes. To say the least, I'm not a big fan of the "slug in the ear" feeling. You other weirdos can get turned on by it. Oh, and PS-- Keep your Bluetooth (a.k.a. cell phone hearing aid). The only thing allowed in my ears are Q-tips. True story. Call me a prude.

This will be a continuous segment on my blog. There are many things I don't understand in this world. The above are just the tip of the iceberg (today...randomly). It's going to be similar to the Saturday Night Live segment, "Deep Thoughts, By Jack Handy". Only it's going to be called, "Just a Few Things I Will Never Understand, By Whitney".

You don't have to get it--just laugh. Then move on...

GIRL GOES CAR SHOPPING--Where The Difference Between Men and Women Becomes Abundantly Clear

I DID IT!!! I, Whitney, went car shopping!!! AND...wait for it...I BOUGHT A CAR! Most people are like, "Big whoop, Whitney--we all have." However, I HAVE NEVER PURCHASED A CAR BY MYSELF BEFORE so let me at least have a moment to be proud of myself. Merci beaucoup.

Let me set the scene: Picture me, driving down a road that has 4-6% steep grade, exceeding 65 mph, and slowly pressing on my car brakes only to realize I DON'T HAVE BRAKES. This is what happened to me about two weeks ago. I had taken my kids up to the mountains for a day of paddle boating and nearly ate a semi truck on the way home. My car was brand-spankin' new when my ex-husband and I bought it years ago. The brakes have NEVER worked properly. It was super sucky to realize this when I was going like a bat-outta-hell down a steep, winding hill. A tad bit unfortunate to say the least. Luckily, I survived and was able to not have enough brakes to actually get off on my own exit, so I blazed right past it and was able to exit a few exits further down the highway--right where the car dealership happened to be. The car dealership that actually had the car I had been looking into purchasing for over 6 months. I'm all about realizing when divine signs smack you upside the head, so I was pretty convinced after scaring the holy living poo out of myself with my car that would forever now be deemed the "Brakeless Wonder", that God was trying to give me a hint to purchase a new car. So I took Him up on it...

I went to the dealership and test drove the car that I thought I was going to buy. I made arrangements to go back to the dealership the next day to talk turkey and crunch some numbers. I ended up going with a different car than I had originally thought. It was described to me as "fully loaded". Hmmm. Sounded interesting. However, all I cared about were two things--#1: Does it have brakes? and #2: Does it have heated seats? I'm freezing all the time--especially after working long hours at the hospital, so I want heated seats! The car I drove was amazing. Smooth, had the bigger engine so it had great pick-up, bigger tires so it looked sharper, leather interior (not super necessary, but I wasn't complaining), BRAKES, AND HEATED SEATS!!!!....SOLD!!!

I'm an easy sell. Mostly because I hate car salesmen. However, I did have a very nice guy who did not pressure me at all. I put on my big girl pants, and signed my name on the dotted line. This was the first car I have ever purchased by myself--and it felt overwhelming and great at the same time.

I posted some pictures of my car (a Hyundai Santa Fe SUV) on my Facebook page for my friends to see. It was funny to see people's responses. Although I am a super duper fashionista, I have a very unfortunate PRACTICAL side to me that creeps up at times--especially when making super gigantically huge purchases. I think people thought I would go for a BMW or and Audi. However, I like my current lifestyle, and plan on trips to Hawaii, Florida, and Alaska in the near future, not to mention I love my fashion splurges, mani/pedis, and Brazilian waxes. Oh...and did I mention I'm a SINGLE woman who is a nurse??? Don't expect super extravagant miracles vehicle-wise from me. All I need is BRAKES and HEATED SEATS, remember??? LOL!

My boyfriend recently came into town from Alaska. This was the first time he saw my new car. Not surprisingly, considering I've only had it for two weeks! Tristan (my boyfriend), is very technologically savvy. Me?...not so much. I will be honest with you--I never even looked under the hood before I bought my car. As far as I was concerned it had everything I needed. I think the car salesman had bantered about a few other features that it had, but most of them went right over my head. That is--except for the feature that was right over my head--because it came with a super sweet sunroof. KA-chow...

I picked Tristan up from the airport and immediately he started playing with the computer on my dashboard. I have GPS and XM radio. He was poking around at the buttons and all of the sudden the face of the computer lifted out and shifted down and he said, "And there's your DVD player and CD player." Really? My car has those? Hmmmm. Who would've thunk it? I had no idea--true story. Then he picked up my cell phone and synced it with my car which then offered me the "hands free" feature for my phone calls. Now every time my cell phone rings I hit a button in my car and talk and HOLY CRAP--I have phone service without holding a phone. Who knew? Certainly not this informed buyer (har har har).

I guess I'm super lucky Tristan came into town when he did. Pity to have a bunch of cool crap in a car and not know how to use it. I guess I wouldn't have missed it though--I had no idea most of it was there to begin with!

Any man would go car shopping and ask about all the features, fun gadgets, and to look under the hood--probably BEFORE they test drove it. Me?-- I got the two things I asked for, and I wouldn't have known what all that garbly guck under the hood was anyway, so all I did was test drive the car and confirm that it had brakes and heated seats before I made my purchase. This is certainly where the difference between men and women becomes abundantly clear.

Like I said--I went in and asked for a car with two things...BRAKES and HEATED SEATS. What I got was something even better. And I get to live another day to tell about it--which is a total bonus! :)

CLUELESS...or Just Really Dang Tired: How Raising Children Has Made Me An Oblivious Zombie

I got home from the grocery store the other day and had both arms full of groceries. I was struggling like I normally do to make it into the kitchen with grocery bags that were cutting off the circulation in my hands while simultaneously trying to throw car keys on the table, kick my high heels off, and remove sunglasses from my face. I often times feel like a flailing octopus--less the 6 additional arms I would need to be a full-fledged flailing octopus. My boyfriend, Tristan, was helping me with the groceries, and the twins were in-tow.

I started to unload the groceries. I placed fridge food in the fridge. Then the freezer food went into the freezer. I loaded up the pantry with the normal pantry foods. Not particularly "abnormal" from any other grocery shopping unload that I had done in the past--only I realized that I had suddenly started getting really frustrated and annoyed for no apparent reason. I thought that perhaps I was tired. I recently started back  working on night shift at the hospital and I have been experiencing the periodic joys of trying to live half of my weeks being partially/completely nocturnal. I was tripping over people and bags of food as I continued on my mission to finish unloading the groceries.

After about 15 minutes of being annoyed I stopped for a moment. I finally realized what was annoying me. My children had taken my cell phone, had switched it to "video mode", and were filming me while I was unloading the groceries--as well as making a video of other random things in the house. They were commentating the entire time. They would walk up to their dolls and say, "And now if you look over here you can see our American Girl dolls". Then they walked over to the computer, still filming, and stated, "And here is our computer game". Then onto more filming me unloading the groceries and saying, "And if you look over here you can see mommy putting the groceries away". I finally asked them to stop.

Let me clarify something here--it's not that it takes a super huge amount of concentration to take Ragu spaghetti sauce out of a grocery bag and place it in the pantry. It's not like they had distracted me to the point of accidentally placing the Listerine and eyeshadow in the refrigerator. It was just that they were using my cell phone battery and memory to film a whole lot of nothing in particular, while commentating, and it had taken me over 15 minutes to figure it out. Tristan started to laugh at me and said, "They are just doing the same thing they were doing while we were in the store". This was true. As we were making our way through the grocery store I had started getting randomly annoyed as well--only to realize that they had taken my cell phone and were filming and commentating each of the items on the shelf in the grocery store. It would be different if these were two isolated incidences, but they had done this to me in the past. I ended up with 30 minutes of video on my phone that they filmed while I was shopping in Victoria's Secret one day at the mall. The video had them holding up lotions, lip gloss, panties, and massage oils--all the while they were reading the labels and making sure they told the camera exactly what was up with their newly found treasures. I didn't have a clue until I got home and saw the video on my phone. I vowed that was the last time I was ever going underwear shopping with my children.

When did I get so oblivious as a parent?--and is it true oblivion or it is self preservation? The irony is that most of the time I KNOW when my children are doing things they are not supposed to be doing--or at least I keep telling myself that I know. Part of me thinks that I've started to ignore some things on purpose because the chronic, unrelenting discipline gets a bit old. Either that or I truly am walking around half asleep these days (which is entirely possible). I can't wait until they get older and have driver's licenses. Then they can take off and be like, "Well mom, I told you I was going to go to ___________ with ___________ and you said, "Uh huh" so you gave me permission." And I will be totally clueless that I ever said such a thing. It's the "You Don't Have Eyeballs in the Back of Your Head so Don't Pretend You Can See Me" phenomenon. My mom used to do this to me. I would ask her to look at something when I was a child and she would not even be turned my direction and say, "Uh huh...I see...". She didn't see. She didn't even know I was talking to her. She was just responding. Ugh--two blogs in a row that I've realized I'VE BECOME MY MOTHER--only I have "delayed response" when it comes to seeing what my children are up to.

*SIGH* That's it--I'm going to start drinking more caffeine so I can have a clue what is going on...in REAL TIME.

PUNCH BUGGY!!!...WIPE, WIPE, WIPE. How I Sucked All The Fun Out Of My Children's Punching Game

Remember the game "Slug Bug" where you would be driving down the road, bored out of your mind, and see a VW Bug, yell out, "Slug Bug _____(insert color of car)______" and then punch the person sitting next to you (usually your sibling)??? My twins started playing that game recently. I immediately got super tired of them punching each other-- because inevitably whoever got punched would feel like they were a victim. Of course then then the "victim" child would haul off and slug the other child the next time they saw a "Punch Buggy"--and then the other one would yelp, holler, and cry.

I generally have a "no hitting your sister" policy in my house when it comes to my twin daughters. They are fraternal twins and could not be more opposite. They ALWAYS argue. As a matter of fact, I'm surprised I don't just exclusively own a pair of black stilettos and a pair of white stilettos to match the referee jersey I feel like I should be wearing at all times when around the two of them. Heck, maybe if I blew a whistle every time one of them antagonized the other they would actually listen to me. Most days I feel like a parrot. All I do is repeat myself. "ROC! Don't hit your sister. ROC! Stop kicking your sister. ROC! Quit shoving your sister." I'm surprised people haven't started throwing saltines and birdseed at me and saying, "Whitney want a cracker???".

Because I'm not a big fan of my children punching the holy living snot out of each other while I'm driving down the highway, I decided to institute the "NO PUNCHING" policy for the slug bug game. Now they can yell "Punch Buggy _____(insert color)_____!!! Wipe Wipe Wipe--but they are not allowed to hit one another. I realize that I am a fun sucker of a mother, but I'd rather have one less argument to referee, and one less child whining and crying in the backseat of my car because they just got UFC cage fighter punched by their rival twin while I was barrelling down the highway. It just makes my life easier and it lets me focus on the important things while I'm driving...like driving.

Today I pulled into the gas station for a fill-up and the girls were sitting in the back seat of the car (as they always do--I'm a big fan of keeping their heads attached to their necks should the airbags in the front seat decide to deploy). Chloe (twin #1) yelled out, "Punch Buggy yellow!!! Wipe Wipe Wipe". Then she said, "Let's just stop playing this game in Mom's car. I like playing it much more over in Dad's car." Emma (twin #2) said, "Why, Chloe?" and Chloe replied, "Because I like it a lot more over in Dad's car." Emma said, "But why, Chloe?" To which Chloe replied, "Because I can actually punch you over in Dad's car."

Ahhhhh...the love in this family abounds. Also a perfect example of where the rift in co-parenting from separate households after a divorce has proven to work quite well...NOT. ;) 

Oh Good Lord...Don't Be One Of THOSE Moms!!!! Incentive to Brave Your Way Through Bikini Season

"Ok, Whitney--what now? Why are you bossing us around again?"

I know, I know, I know. I'm bossy. What can I say? However, in case you haven't noticed, it's officially "swimsuit season" (insert crescendo**dun dun DUN!**). It's that glorious time of year when we all get to put on lycra-esque, underwear-looking thingys and head to the pool with our Junior Waterbugs (AKA our children). Not the most intimidating thing in the world if you are a 20-something who is kidless and ripped like Jennifer Aniston (I know she's not 20 but she has no kids and looks 20 so she's fair game for swimsuit season idolatry).  However, if you are a woman who has committed her body for 9 months or more to growing a child or children in your abdominal cavity you might not be totally stoked about throwing on your swim suit this year and playing the role of sexy lounge lizard at the pool. It's hard to do when you feel like you look like Porky Pig stuffed into sausage casing. And don't get pissed off at me for saying that--it doesn't matter how skinny you are, every woman on the planet has those days. There are at least 50 times a year I feel like Porky Pig stuffed into a sausage casing. We are women. We have hormones. It happens. Not only that, but we are SO critical of every single feature on our body. "I'm too fat. I have cellulite here, and here, and here. I hate my boobs. I have a big butt. I hate how my thighs look like saddle bags. My left big toe is deviated more than my right big toe. The part in my hair isn't straight and it looks like a cow licked my head. My nose is too big. My chin is too puffy. My eyes are too far apart. My teeth need to be whitened..."

HOLY FREAKIN' CRAP, BATGIRL!!!! It's amazing that with the crap ton of self deprecation we provide ourselves with on a daily basis that we have ANY SELF ESTEEM LEFT AT ALL!!! Long story short--we are too hard on ourselves. And it's pool season. The reason I am writing this blog is to encourage every woman to embrace your CURRENT body and GET OUT THERE.

 "What do you mean, "Get out there, Whitney? I took Junior Waterbug to the pool yesterday. What more do you want from me???"

 I want you to get out there and enjoy your summer. I want you to get out there and find the most amazing swimsuit that fits your body type, flatters your figure, and actually TAKE YOUR TENT MUMU COVER-UP OFF AT THE POOL and (wait for it....) acutally GET IN!!!!!

Yes, get into the dang pool. The whole purpose of me giving the title, "Good Lord...Don't Be One Of THOSE Moms!!!!" to this blog is that, REGARDLESS of your body and all your insecurities that accompany it, there is fun to be had out there this summer ladies. It's up to you to muster up the confidence and courage to GO FOR IT.

I grew up with a mother who was a Size 8. Yes--an 8. She refused to put a swimsuit on. My whole Junior Waterbug life I grew up with a mom who I never saw in a bathing suit. I had so much fun as a child playing in the pool and it killed me that my mom would never join me. I wanted her to come in and have fun along with me. However, she was too busy being self conscious and worrying about what "everyone else would think" about her if they saw her in a bathing suit to be involved in that part of my life. She would sit on a lounge chair, poolside, in JEANS, reading a book (she wouldn't even wear shorts...EVER).


DON'T BE ONE OF THOSE MOMS. You don't have to have the perfect body. Nobody has the perfect body. Oh...and PS--EVERYONE HAS CELLULITE. You're among friends. Yes, we women can be heartless, judgemental, snot heads when it comes to analyzing every other woman at the pool, but you know what???...it's time to take your life back and GET IN THE GAME (AKA get into the pool...or the ocean...or a hot tub). You don't have to fling yourself onto a Slip-N-Slide and try to prove the Force=Mass X Acceleration "Newton's Law of Motion" equation in physics as you launch yourself off into outer space in your tankini, but GOOD LORD...DO SOMETHING RELATED TO WATER AND SUMMER FUN!!!

I'll let you in on a little secret. I have a community pool. I've had it for three years now. My children LOVE it. My favorite part is the hot tub. I love sitting in the hot tub and relaxing. My children have BEGGED me for the past two years to get into the pool with them and have fun...and every time they ask I have 900 reasons why I can't. I made a Summer 2011 resolution this year--I resolved to get into the pool with my children as much as possible and to participate in their summer swimming fun as much as possible. I realized that I HAD BECOME ONE OF THOSE MOMS!!! Ugh! There was no difference between my mom not participating in my pool fun and me lounging in the hot tub watching my kids' pool fun from the sidelines.

I've been in the pool every single trip this summer to play with my kids...and guess what? I HAVE HAD A BLAST. Every day my kids are SO excited to go to the pool and they say things like, "Mom!...do you want to dive for pennies again today? Do you want to play water ballerinas like we did yesterday? Do you want to race back and forth and swim laps today???" I didn't realize how much my going into the pool with my kids mattered to them until I realized that I HAD BECOME MY MOTHER.

I appreciate EVERY WOMAN who braves swimsuit season and looks past "what everyone else might think" in an effort to get into life and make memories with their family. Your kids don't care if you are 100 lbs. and cellulite free, or 400 lbs. with cottage cheese thighs. THEY WANT YOU WITH THEM. And you are beautiful. Time to put on your brave face, go bathing suit shopping, and hold your head high as you whip off that cover-up at the pool. Heck--give yourself a cute hairdo, buy some swanky shades that accent your killer swimsuit, add some cute wedge flip flops, and GET OUT THERE AND START LIVING IT UP. What everyone else thinks DOES NOT matter. You owe it to your kids and to YOURSELF to make fun memories that will last a lifetime.

Be like Nike....JUST DO IT. ;)

Extreme Couponing: My Second Attempt. Goal? Beat the $17.00 I Saved The Last Time I Cut Out Those Paper Thingymabobbers

Alrighty, folks. The "wannabe" extreme couponer is back after shopping trip No. 2 in my feeble attempt to be "cool" like those money saving craze-O's on TLC's, "Extreme Couponing". Some of you may have seen my initial blog entry on this subject a couple of weeks ago where I spent approximately 45 minutes clipping coupons and browsing circulars from 3 different grocery stores in an effort to see how much money I could save on my grocery bill. I came home with a grand savings total of $17.00. Not bad for my first try--at least I thought it was pretty good. Some might say, "Quit now, coupon loser!", but unto those nay-sayers I say, "Oh baby--I'm just gettin' warmed up!".

I needed to go to the grocery store today and just happened to see a sign hanging outside of my local Safeway store last week while I was pumping gas that said, "Double Coupons EVERYDAY". Well holy crap!...what do ya know?! I was a little deflated after my first couponing attempt and couldn't figure out how those "Extreme Couponers" did it, but this changes things! Double coupons? I'M IN!!!

I grabbed the circular for Safeway that came out in this week's mail. I browsed and saw things that I could purchase reasonably with my club card. Then I grabbed some newspapers I had left over from my first couponing attempt to see if I had coupons for items that were already on sale in the circular. Some of you might be thinking, "But those were old coupons you had!" However, some of the coupons were good for up to three months, so even though I had already purchased some similar items on my first shopping trip I HAD MORE COUPONS TO GO BACK FOR ANOTHER GO THIS WEEK (and did I mention Safeway has Double Coupons EVERYDAY??? *WOOT WOOT*).

I had thoroughly browsed the items in the circular and I had a plan on navigating through the store. I went with my twin 8.5 year old daughters, and normally they are a total pain in the butt to shop with ("Mom, are we done yet? My head hurts. I'm tired. I need to go to the bathroom. MOM!...grocery shopping is SO boring!!!" yada yada), but today I put them to work. I would give them a coupon and tell them to hunt down the item. Then they had to read the coupon to make sure they were getting the right item and the right size for the coupon deal. Then I would have them look at the price of the item, look at the savings on the coupon, then double the savings on the coupon, and subtract it from the total price of the store item. They got a lesson in math, saving money, and reading all at the same time. Ka-CHOW! I'm on fire. *Z-snap* My kids aren't going to be the braindead dumb ones after summer break. ;)

Long story short--I ended up going to Safeway and scoring BIG between my coupons and my Club Card savings. I had an entire cart full of groceries and I saved nearly $40.00. Then I took the rest of my coupons to Super Target and saved another $7.00. I got $160.00 worth of groceries for approximately $110.00 AND it's enough to feed my family for two weeks. NOT TOO SHABBY!

It makes a HUGE difference to have a store that does double coupons. However, buyer beware. Safeway marks up their prices much higher than Super Target so it was actually cheaper to get some of the items at Target and just get single coupon savings. I also had items that I got for free because of my coupons that also had mail-in rebates of up to $2.00 so they are PAYING me to take their product off the shelf. MY KIND OF SHOPPING!

Stay tuned as I try to up my savings in the coming weeks. I never thought clipping coupons was worth my time. However, it has become a ton of fun, and now I have 47 of my hard earned dollars in my pocket as opposed to sitting in some cash register. Not to mention I had a fun time shopping with my kids--and that rarely happens. IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT. :)