Projectile Vomit: Another Birth Control Alert

O.K. I know, I know. It has been AGES since my last post and to my few followers out there looking for a laugh during these bleak, winter months, I offer my humble apologies. I actually have several blog "stories" that have been swirling about my tumultuous brain and they have only recently taken understandable shape. See what I mean? I've written just a few sentences and it's full of drivel....digressing already.

I still have my fabulous job at the gym/health club. I am truly enjoying it there not just for the tasty vittles but the socialization overall is great. I get to chat with people every day- moms and dads from my kids' school, people from the neighborhood, the cute little 60 and up guys who flirt with me (oh, yeah...I love the eye candy and the old guys love me, how's that for feeling your age!) I also have a great boss who was born the year I graduated High School...he's that young. He's very capable and a good manager (AND yes, ladies a little smoke, hot, honey!)but the poor kid has listened to his share of female drama. The owner's wife and I have a good rapport and she often comes to help with the office work. We love to dish about all things male and he's heard too many "estrogen charged" moments. There are times he just turns red and shakes his head...usually when we talk about the appalling size of our asses or bemoan the size of our boobs. He often laughs and leaves the room in the middle of said discussion because he's afraid of the over exposure to estrogen. Think of the education he is getting. He honestly ought to be taking notes!

We're also scaring the poor boy into a lifetime supply of condoms with stories about our kids! But there is nothing like first hand kid experience to really make a bachelor "run for the hills". Our SSHHBB (Sexy Smoke Hot Honey Boy Boss...don't you just love alliteration...) had to help out in the Kids Room this past weekend and there was a kid who was there only a few minutes before he proceeded to projectile vomit around the room. Kids were crying, barbie dolls had been puked on, there was that terrible vomit stench and the SSHHBB was standing in the middle of all of it in a state of frozen shock not knowing what to do. Luckily, there was a Mom picking up a child who got right to it and led SSHHBB through the rigors of cleaning, calming and escorting children to parents. After he related this now hilarious tale to me over the phone and after a hearty laugh on my part, I asked him the obvious question..."Did you buy a big box of condoms on the way home?" .....what a shell shock for a young man with no serious girlfriend and no children. It's a perfect reason to burn rubber on your way to the nearest drugstore to buy rubbers because for single guys and gals who have yet to experience it-the first big Projectile Vomit is Another Birth Control Alert!

Just Practicing

This is a classic, funny kid story that I will remember forever. It will be perfect for some later humiliation at her bridal shower years down the road...This past summer my 8 and 9 year old got a little early "sex education" from a neighborhood friend. They were told that a woman gets pregnant by having a man pee inside her vagina with his penis. While not altogether true, it is roughly the right idea, wrong consistency. My husband and I thought we might as well get out all the right terminology and give them the basics of sex and how pregnancy begins. Before this when my eldest daughter had asked how her first grade teacher got pregnant, I had simply told both of the girls that when a man and woman are married, they love each other in a special way that makes a baby. This completely satisfied her 6 year old intellect and I was so relieved. Well, that explanation no longer sufficed...especially the married bit that I'd thrown in for good moral measure.

So this summer, after discussing the basics, my nine year old was aghast at the very idea and apologized for my "having to do that twice, YUCK!" To which my altogether too honest husband replied, "No, honey adults have sex because they enjoy it". To use a Grey's Anatomy vernacular .... SERIOUSLY?! Did he actually say that?! How many shades of red are there on the colorwheel?! After I retrieved my jaw from the floor, rolled my eyes back into my head and turned back from crimson to a more pleasant pale pink while vowing secretly in my head to cut my husband's "baby maker" off later, I told her it really was more information than was needed right now and I'd have to talk to Daddy about boundries later. My 8 year old gave us a funny look but said little. That night during quiet reading time my confused youngest said to me "You told me that when a husband and wife love each other in a special way , they have a baby". I said yes, honey that was the answer to your sister's"where do babies come from" question when you were both younger and curious about a pregnant teacher. Now you just have more specific information. "Oh, OK," she said. "But mommy, I still don't get it. If you do what you said with Daddy, you have a baby right?" " Well, not every time," I replied. "So you did it more than twice?" she asked politely. "Yes," I said. "Oh"...she considered for a few more moments and said,"so it's kind of like practice. You practice something you like to do. So you and Daddy practiced alot so you could get good and make me and my sister". Good Lord would the inquisition never end? But I must say I liked this line of thinking so because I was at a loss for words, I just nodded and she seemed satisfied.

So school begins, everything is going very well. Both my children's teachers have weddings scheduled for October and the kids are very into the excitement and romance of it all. One day I saw one of the PTO moms in the fitness club. My youngest daughter and her son have the same teacher and she tells me that when she was at school the day before she noticed that our kids' teacher had "popped". You know, the pregnancy pop. I wondered how my daughter would process that information given our summer discussion. I found out when she got off the bus. With no qualms whatsoever she opens the door and announces,"Mommy I think my teacher decided to do some practicing before her wedding." Then she ran off to play....it took every ounce of control I had to refrain from laughing out loud until she left the room.

A Piece of Heaven on Earth

Whew! It seems like forever since my last post and so much has happened, I'm not sure where to begin. I am just getting used to working at the fitness club, rushing home to get the kids off the bus, do homework, get dinner, clean up dinner, do laundry, clean, read and snuggle with the kids before collapsing in front of the "boob tube" for some mindless entertainment before sliding upstairs to sleep. To all of you working Moms out there- hats off to you. I feel like I'm running in quicksand. I'm behind on so many projects and my blogging has come to a standstill but I'll figure it all out eventually (I hope). OK to begin at the new job that is truly Heaven On Earth. I've already posted about being in the kids' room and my target rich boob environment. I also get to work at the front desk checking people in and answering the phone. I LOVE IT! Being surrounded by a smorgasbaord of eye candy all day, sweating and lifting weights. Honey, the delectable bits that walk through the door....yummy! I have 3 or 4 favorites. One is so young we'll just name him The Appetizer- and no, he is not so young as to be jailbate for you gutterminds out there. I looked him up just to be sure and he is a perfectly legal 20 year old. Moving on to The Soup and Salad, he is hot like soup and has lots of sweet parts I'd like to crunch like a very good salad. A salad that I can linger over and chew and chew...and then there is The Main Course, perfectly suited for savoring. This guy is a respectable 29, nicely proportioned with rounded shoulders, firm ass and strong legs and though (sigh) I've never seen him shirtless, I'm sure, given his routine of abs work, you could flip coins off his stomach. Add to that his perfect, straight, white teeth and twinkling blue eyes- wow! I would love to taste every delightful inch. But let us not forget Dessert- a sweet caramel, chocolate concoction (yes, I really had to use that word...stressing that marvelous, middle syllable) who has not just a great body but a beautiful face with enormous , brown eyes. I relish rolling his name around on my tongue and I think he knows quite well that I favor him. He always has a sort of embarassed smile when I say his name. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the drool that escapes from the corners of my mouth. So you see I have a 4 course meal that I get to devour daily so my job is truly a piece of Heaven on Earth.

Gravity Has Taken My Body, Age Is Taking My Mind

If you read the previous blog, you have recognized me as a person who either doesn't listen well or multi-task well. It is perhaps a bit of both. It may also be that as I age, I'm slowly losing my mind. If you think that mistaking Fandango, the website for an actual movie is funny about a year ago, I pulled an all-time classic (yeah, as bad as the Infamous Naughty Email).

I was just really getting ensconced with the PTO moms and decided to attend a Southern Living party with this new, fun crowd of potential gal pals. I was in a rush and running a bit late and flew in at the last minute just before the sales pitch. Whew! After a few cocktails and lots of chatter and some shopping, it was time to find my keys and go. I was one of the last to leave. I'm not a purse kind of gal and usually just carry my keys or wear them on my wrist on my "key bracelet". I bought said bracelet to attach to my keys to alleviate my tendency to misplace them. I checked my wrist, no keys. I looked at the table where I'd set my last cocktail- no luck there either. I eyed the buffet table and the counter where I'd laid my checkbook. I checked in the bathroom. By this time, the hostess and party-giver had commenced helping me with my search until the dreaded moment when I realized I had probably left them locked in my car...again. Upon walking outside, I heard the annoying music of High School Musical loudly playing from a nearby car. The music was not moving as the car passed. The music was stationary and blaring from MY car. Yeah, uh huh...not only had I left my keys in the car but I had left the car RUNNING with my kids favorite CD BLARING. Gravity has taken my body and age is taking my mind...

The Infamous Naughty Email

On the same night that my friends and I had the very serious discussion about men's chest hair (see previous blog), I learned some other vitally important information. It may seem like common sense to some of you. One should ALWAYS check to see what addresses are in the "to" section of your email if you are sending them to a group of people. I learned this lesson the hard way (ha!)....by inadvertently sending a funny but naughty post to a very inappropriate someone.

You see (are you still staring?!), I received this fascinating advertisement for Viagra (from a Brownie mom, no less) ..and had to send it on to my PTO buddies because I so love to get a rise out of them (every pun intended!) There are a few in particular that I relish shocking...one being the wife of our school's principal. Well, on the night of the Mama Mia! extravaganza, I walked into the movie theatre and one of the PTO presidents emeritus (yeah, I hang out with the heavy hitters...there were no less than 3 PTO presidents past and present in our gathering) says," I had no idea that you had such a "special relationship" with our Principal". Of course, I looked at her in bewilderment, not knowing what you have now guessed was my blunder. She laughed and said, "The Viagra ad that you sent to him...." Holy Shit- nearly peed my pants when I realized that I had accidentally clicked the principal and not his wife when adding "insert addresses" from my email address book. Alphabetically they are listed together and of course, I hadn't looked carefully....and I'd sent it to his school address! Yeah, I'm THAT friend- the one who talks about sex alot. The good news is that I immediately called my friend, his wife and alerted her to my error ..of course, I had trouble hearing her on the cell phone because of all the laughter in the background....She assured me that he would delete it upon entering school without ever viewing it which I believe because he's VERY conservative and too nice to want to embarrass me. Thank goodness someone was paying attention! I cannot fathom his reaction had he opened it. So let my error be a lesson to all of you out there in cyberspace- check carefully to whom you send your silly and salacious emails to....because honey, though it ended well, my mistake will be a topic of discussion for a LONG time. I've already gotten suggestions that I need to take an email etiquette class. Said comment came at the school's ice cream social from a husband of one of the Mama Mia! attendees....he was so very delighted to needle me about it! I will forever be the sender of The Infamous Naughty Email!

Men's Chests: Bare vs. Hair

I recently went to see Mama Mia! with a bunch of my friends from PTO. First of all, ladies if you haven't seen it, go. It is very entertaining. It is especially so if you go with a few people who have seen the stage play and know the musical well enough to sing some of the songs out loud with you. It is DOUBLY entertaining if you go with anyone with a musical ear who can laugh out loud when Pierce Bronson begins to sing. The effort of his face and his body language as he tries to belt out "SOS" and his off-key love song at the end (why oh, why do you ADD a song for a non-singer?! I still cannot believe that when editing this movie, they didn't cringe when they heard him. I cannot believe the "aha!" moment didn't hit them over the head. You know the one. Aha! Pierce can't carry a damn tune. Let's get a good singer to do a voice over... sorry, digressing). It was laughable and we had a good chuckle. We also had an eewww! moment (or some of us did) and lots of yummmmmmy moments which was caused by the men in the movie which brought up the later discussion at the bar about men's chests:bare vs. hair.

If you are into Pierce Bronson when he takes off his shirt then you are definitely a chest hair advocate (or more precisely a chest carpet..)- that was MY eww! moment. I don't mind some chest hair. Indeed, my own husband has just the right patch. It's noticeable but soft and fine and decidedly masculine without reminding me of our pre-human link.....Pierce had me thinking of Planet of the Apes. On the other hand, the dancing boys in the movie were all perfectly hairless with rock hard butts and abs....soooo much delicious eye candy and another good reason to treat yourself to this feast for ogling... I needed a shot of tequila and a cold shower after one particular choral number....again, digressing. The lack of chest hair was titillating and went well with the abs and other finery (and I do mean FINEry) but it made me think of boys not men.

So, the ladies and I were discussing chest hair: bare vs hair preferences and were overheard by 2 twenty-something boys who were obviously hard up for female company and decided to join us because "we were so interesting". OK, I was so feeling my age at being referred to as "interesting" instead of "hot" but honestly, have never been a "smoke hot honey" so I couldn't be truly offended. Regardless, "interesting" got us a free round of drinks from the 20 somethings which, for a bunch of PTO moms, wasn't too bad. Indeed, I went home immediately to tell my husband about the 2 young babes that bought us drinks....I omitted the "interesting" part.... He didn't seem impressed. Anyway, both boys went on to tell us that the bare chest thing was "all the rage" and that very few teenage and twenty somethings would be caught dead in a locker room with any hair on their chest....some were even going so far as to have hair waxed off the other lower areas. Sexy or creepy? You decide. I can't say I'd mind it coming off the twins underneath but altogether...creepy for me. Besides which, isn't that trail of hair from a man's belly button to his trousers that disappears into the forbidden forest soooo sexy?! What a shame to rip it off! The discussion made for an interesting evening full of laughs and I doubt any of the PTO ladies will ever look at chest hair quite the same again. I, myself cannot open a magazine that features a topless man and not think of bare vs. hair!

FORTY SOMETHING...AKA GRAVITY SUCKS

I never really worried about getting older. I rather relished the idea of the profound wisdom I was told I'd receive as I aged. Turning thirty bothered me not at all. My 20s had worn me out. My 30s became my "growing up" years. The years in which I had children and recognized (finally) my parents' worth and utter insanity. They raised 4 daughters. My sisters and I were 6 years apart from start to finish- truly utter lunacy. I actually thought that 40 wouldn't bother me too much because someone had pointed out that 40 is the new 30..(can we say denial?!). Honestly, 40 in and of itself didn't bother me. It was saying the next milestone....whew! Now that didn't sound so good. Forty wasn't bothersome until I started to notice what age was doing to me physically. My body seemed to be dragging. And I'm not just talking about energy because, OK, that wasn't what it used to be either, but no, I'm talking about BODY parts quite literally dragging me down. Because when you get right down to it...GRAVITY SUCKS!

When I was younger my ample 34C breasts were a source of envy. All the small B and A women were terribly jealous of my round and perky breasts, perfectly centered in the middle of my chest. Twenty years later, two breastfed children and a full size larger...well, let's just say that envy has been replaced by pity. In fact, I am left wondering when the day will arrive that a belt will be a better means of support than my under wire, over the shoulder "boulder holder". And let's not forget those shoulders and the definable crease that said bra has permanently left in my flesh. Also, as my breasts start their inevitable slide downward, there is a flap of skin (I call it "flabula") that hangs between your bra strap and armpit. Where on earth did THAT come from?!

Gravity though is an equal opportunity source of demoralization. My derriere has not only dropped ever closer to my knees but the fat has congealed at the bottom of my backside turning it from round to decidedly pear shaped. Then you add the cottage cheese stippled there ...not appetizing or edible in the least!

And how about those lovely arms? Or should I say flaps? What used to be triceps have now become wings that threaten to send me flying every time I give a spirited wave. Let's not stop there. Let's talk about the biggest organ of all....your skin. It's like that medical alert bracelet ad. You remember the one (if your old enough) where the woman has fallen from her walker and shouts into her speaker phone, "I've fallen and I can't get up"...That's my skin. It has fallen and it can't get up. The skin over my knees has got an old lady crinkle that no amount of body lotion or muscle tone can remedy. The skin on my face threatens to make my eyes permanently puppy-doggish as they droop ever downward and I'm sure jowls are not far behind. And my neck! my neck would make a Thanksgiving turkey envious. So from top to bottom (literally) and below...face, neck, breasts, butt to knees that are now past forty....GRAVITY SUCKS!