Dear Cialis

Dear Cialis,

Is it true that taking your drug could really give a man a 4-hour erection? That sounds downright troublesome. It says right in your commercial "if you experience an erection lasting longer than 4 hours, call your doctor." Take out the fact that this apparently isn't very safe, but c'mon, 4 hours! We women have other things to do besides get it on for 4 hours straight! Why don't you just forgo the whole erection market and create a pill that will make a man want to watch Sex and the City and rub my feet for 4 hours. Now THAT is a wonderpill!

And I must tell you I take issue with your commercials. There is always a scene where two 50-something people are looking longingly at each other and the next thing you know (I swear people, I'm not making this up) they are both sitting in matching big, white, claw foot tubs next to each other on a sandy beach. What the hell? Either throw 'em in a tub or put them on the beach.

Lastly, your logo seems a little obvious, doesn't it? You sell erection pills and your logo happens to have a very long, very upturned, very phallic looking symbol in it. Really? Everytime I see it I picture a green stick figure standing behind it, and then this huge, green... errr...ummm... logo, sticking out of him. It's just a bit forward in my mind. Anyone? Anyone?
That's just my opinion.

I'm a Wiener...

You heard me right, I'm a Weiner. Well, Wean-er actually. I am weaning my baby girl from nursing. I know, I know, I've sort of complained about the constant pumping I've had to do. I mean, I'm always pumping. Pumping at work. Pumping at home. Pumping in the middle of the night. Pumping in the car for God sakes! Pumping, pumping, pumping! When I hear the repetitive sound of a copy machine my boobs start to leak they are so accustomed to producing to that cadence! But, now that it's coming to an end I'm having some difficulty accepting it. And by difficulty I mean I am acting like an effing nutjob, fruitcake, crazy lady. See, it's not really by choice that I'm doing this, so much as it is by physical necessity. Despite all the constant pumping in my life, my milk supply just isn't keeping up with my growing baby girl! So, here I am grieving all that damn pumping. You would think I'd just found out some awful, tragic news the way I've been moping around about this. It's just that she's my baby. And this was our thing. And now it's gone. And it makes me really sad. And it's so final...

Oh, and lest you've never weaned a child before, let me tell you it hurts like a crazy BEEE-OTCH! And that is no lie. I mean, just try smuggling two bowling balls into the skin of your chest and see how it feels. It's not good people. It looks like I should appear on the cover of some tabloid magazine with a huge heading, "Plastic Surgery Gone Wrong!" and they can put me right next to Tara Reed and her effed up lypo pictures. Apparently Dr. 90210 was lit up like a Christmas Tree when I went under the knife because my big huge rock hard tatas are a little too hard and a little lopsided. Oh and they leak. A lot.

OK, so, there's your free name drop Dr. 90210- now when this is all said and done how 'bout you throw me some free plastic surgery and we just fix these ladies up nice? Thanks!

Please stand

Our sweet baby girl Millie had her baptism this Sunday. As many church services do, our church service started with some gentle background music from the praise band and the lead singer cheerfully swayed with the music and said into the mic, "please stand and join us while we sing song # 284." But the lead pastor immediately jumped to her own mic and interrupted uncomfortably, "actually, don't stand! We have a special announcement this morning if you'd like to remain seated." Of course, we had already stood, so the congregation kind of shuffled around and you could hear the old wooden pews creaking as everyone sat back down. The music just sort of fizzled out, first the drummer had stopped playing, then the guy on the bass, lastly guy on the electric keyboard. It was a little awkward, I'm not going to lie.

So, some church committee member meanders to the podium, makes a special announcement about the assistant pastor and how she is leaving and how we are getting someone new. He goes on and on about her merits, we'll miss her, niceties, niceties, and he wraps it up, don't let the door hit you on the way out kind of thing. At least, that's how I took it but what do I know? I'm the mom that every thinks is a single mom because my alleged "husband" doesn't like church, so I sit in the far back pew trying to keep my two kids corralled. It's a simple success if I keep my 3 year old from throwing Cheerios at the old lady with blue hair that hits in front of us. So clearly, I am not the one to be informed on church politics.

But he makes his announcement and wanders away from the podium. There is some stunned silence from members of the congregation. Maybe in an effort to fill this awkward silence the praise band starts in on their song again. Again the lead singer says, "please stand," and just as the whole congregation does so, you hear over the music, "Actually, please sit back down, I have something I'd like to say." It's the assistant pastor and now she wants to speak about her imminent departure. I know, this is getting hilarious, right? Just so happens I have like 30 family members visiting my church today. Welcome to my Freaktastic church guys! So, the music fizzles out, and we, the people of the congregation look at each other sort of stupidly, like "the what hell, (no offense God), are we supposed to sit or stand or sing or shut our freaking mouths or what?" So, we awkwardly collectively sit down again. We listen to her say her piece. And when she abruptly ends her speech, the praise band starts in again. Yes, for the 3rd time if you are counting. First the keyboard music starts up. We, the congregation, we are getting smart now and we automatically stand up. But it turns out the lead singer of the praise had left her mic for some reason or another and with the music already started she now has to sprint to the mic to catch the first stanza of music. Except she trips on her music stand, which sends the little light attached to it crashing to the floor. The keyboarder ignores all of this and keeps on a playing, and we, the people, we just start a singing like this is a normal occurrence every Sunday. Yes, welcome to church with the Bad News Pews Bears!

PS- Have you ever tried to sit, stand, sit, stand, sit, stand while holding a wriggling, hungry baby that is wearing a little satin dress? This satin dress, I'm pretty sure it's was made in a WD-40 factory because I am dead serious when I say I about dropped her 6 different times during this whole ordeal.

I haven't been a lazy turd...

Well, I know my blogposts have been a little sporadic lately. It's a crazy busy time at work and I start traveling next week! I have two little munchkin (yes, I am expecting cyber nods as you affirm that this alone is reason enough to be too busy to even luck my eyebrows properly, let alone maintain a blog!).

Another thing I have been doing it getting in to a new hobby. Some of you know that I have a photography business, ReflectingStone Photography. I have recently started graphically changing some pictures and started an off-shoot to my business called Dreams and Designs. At this new site, I'll be creating custom "Fantasy Portraits" as well as custom jewelry that goes with your portrait, etc. Check it out sometime and let me know if you are interested- I will naturally do a custom piece for any of my blog followers for dirt cheap, like $20! I'd just do it for free but my husband seems to think my "tinkering" on the computer is a waste of time! Here is a sneak peek of what you'll see on my new site:

And THIS is why I love them!

This past weekend I got together with my two best friends, Lauren and Sharla. The three of us met freshman year of college and lived together for the next 4 years- we were inseparable. 12 years later, when we all get together it's like no time has passed at all.



So Saturday we all got together for the first time in quite awhile- the two of them live about 5 hours apart and I live somewhere in the middle. This was our REWARD because we've all been losing weight together. I've lost 14 (make that 12 after our girls weekend) pounds the past 7 weeks.



So there we were, and what else is a girls weekend but shopping! We were lined up, the three of us, in dressing rooms. We each had our doors shut trying on our sale items but we were still conversing through the doors like we owned the place.



Me: "OMG, this thing looks horrendous. This is the stuff that gives small children nightmares!"

Sharla: "It can't look that bad. "

Me: Oh seriously! I am not joking. If only you guys could see this muffin top. You would then realize why everything looks terrible on me and I am doomed to a lifetime of sweatshirts! Thank you adorable offspring for that!"

Lauren: "Well show me then... "

Me: "Ummmm. Ok fine. I am warning you though, you will never look at Jello the same way."



Lauren steps into my dressing room and we close the door.



Sharla is still in her own room and now shouts, "Do you still have that Pialtes DVD workout video I gave you? That would help!"



And THEN Lauren, Lauren my college roommate, Lauren my maid of honor, Lauren the Godchild to my daughter says,"She's gonna need ALOT more than Pilates for this!"



Ouch, very ouch. But this is why I love them. They are like the sisters I never had and when you have a scary-size muffin top, they're not going to lie to you.



Lauren continues, "Maybe if you hiked your jeans up, to like your belly button, that would help?"

Me: "I can't, they don't go that high!"'

Lauren: "Well not those jeans, that would give you a ridiculous camel toe. But those jeans are made for a 12-year old. You'd have to buy adult jeans for once..."



Now- in my defense, these are not the jeans for a preteen, at least not in my opinion. Here is my blog post devoted to them.

Now, don't feel too sorry for me. When Sharla stepped out of her dressing room in a khaki inspired suit I asked her if she was trying to be the next Crocodile Hunter or was she just planning her trip for an African Safari when she is 80? And I told Lauren she will be "the tackiest person on the planet if she thinks she is going to wear flip-flops with that outfit!" So, I mean, I get what I deserve.

And now I will think about real food as I devour my Fiber bar...

Hola Senorita!

I was doing my Sunday thing- thinking about going to church but reconsidered that when I realized I'd have to shower, thinking about making a nice Sunday dinner but reconsidered when I realized that involved actual work, thinking about doing some laundry then actually doing some laundry when realizing I've worn the same yoga pants for 3 days in a row.

So there I was folding some laundry and putting it away. My baby girl was sleeping and my husband and 3-year old were downstairs playing a game together. I think I hear something so I stop and listen closer. I do hear something. It's a voice. It's really quiet so I strain to hear it. It's a man's voice. It's a man's Hispanic voice! And he is talking a lot, really fast and a lot- but it's quiet. I'm instantly terrified and look for a weapon. I have 3 choices. A hardback book from my nightstand, a little jar a wrinkle removing night cream and a plastic hanger. Shit. I may not be able to defend myself but I could offer this intruder one heck of a makeover. I opt for the hanger- it may not be the weapon of choice but if you've ever been bitch-slapped with a hanger you know it could smart for a minute. Hey, it worked for Joan Crawford. So there I am, hanger in hand, waiting for the Spanish speaking intruder to show himself.

He doesn't appear. I follow the voice. I find it- coming out of the baby monitor! I instantly think he is in my baby's room. I run in there, ready to gut him with a plastic hanger and he is no where to be seen. I check behind the door and under the bed- he's not there.

I go back to my room and listen on the monitor. He's still there, talking hushed and fast. What. The. Hell? I yell for my husband. I don't tell him why because I am sure if I say, "Honey, there is an invisible Hispanic man speaking into our baby monitor. Bring your glock with you..." he might think I am nuts.

After a thorough search, we realize this Spanish-speaking mystery man is just living in our baby monitor. Period. There is no other explanation. Well, expect that maybe we honed in on some crazy frequency and picked up this guy, perhaps on a cell phone or something.

But for all of you baby snatchers out there- I am armed and ready and I will not hesitate to decapitate you with my plastic hanger. Ouch, very ouch! Oh and my husband has that glock too.