Don't hate me 'cause you ain't me!

So, throughout my life I have been accused of being stuck up or snobby.  For people who actually know me, this couldn’t be further from the truth.  In fact, I am quite shy when it comes to meeting people and starting up conversations with perfect strangers (Unless of course, I’ve had a little social lubrication – and in that case, you can’t shut me up and by the end of the night I will be your BFF and you’ll end up telling me all of your secrets!  Like that you’ve had a boob job and you really don’t know who the daddy is – true story!)

As I’ve aged, I find that I am more open to people, which has in turn helped me to create many valuable and close relationships that I absolutely cherish. 

However, I still cannot get away from being judged – simply because have not made an effort to go out of my way to meet absolute strangers (neighbors count, right?)

Case in point:

My neighbor, we shall call him “Mark”… wait, that IS his name.  Totally blew that one. 

Anyway, Mark came over to the house last weekend, as he typically does, to bum beers off me and my husband.

Side story:  One Sunday morning, Mark came over to the house, knocked on the door and asked my husband if he could have a few beers.  Now this was like, the fourth or fifth time Mark had done this in the past few weeks.  So my husband politely asked.. “Mark, why don’t you drive down to the store and buy your own beer?” to which Mark replied “Well I would, but the store doesn’t start selling beer until noon on Sunday.”

Strategic and calculated, Mark.  Nice.

So back to the story…  As Mark is sipping on the third or fourth beer he’d bummed, he says to me – unprompted, mind you – “I don’t know why the people in the neighborhood think you’re stuck up.  You’re the nicest lady I’ve ever met!  I just love y’all!”

Wait… what?  WTF did you just say?  So what you’re saying is the people in the neighborhood think I’m a snob? Why, because I didn’t bring them cookies and cakes or walk around the neighborhood knocking on doors, bothering people and interrupting their family time to introduce myself?  Or because I don’t want to get wrapped up in their baby momma drama, I like to sleep with my wife’s cousin bullshit? Give me that beer back! (snatches beer out of hand in mid-sip)

Well, I didn’t actually say that to him or snatch his beer, but I thought about it!

So it was clear to me at that moment that it doesn’t matter what I say or do, whether I wave to my neighbors or not, I will always be perceived as a snob until people actually put aside their preconceived notions about me and actually take the time to get to know who I am.

Because according to Mark...

I’M THE NICEST LADY YOU’LL EVER MEET, DAMN IT!

Sleeping at the Drive-in

So I went to my first drive-in movie on Saturday and it was awesome!

For some reason the Grease song kept playing over and over in my head…

“Stranded at the drive-in, branded a fool.

What will they say, Monday at school.”

I could practically see John Travolta with his skin-tight black pants and bouffant hair (wait, Sandy wore the same thing… hmmm) swinging and singing with the giant movie screen as the backdrop.

“Oh Sandy! Baby, someday when high-yi-yayi school is done…”

(um, so yeah, maybe there is some substance to the allegations of late... just sayin')

But as with just about any other movie, I fell asleep.  It doesn’t matter what time of day or night, movie theater, at home, or sitting in a fold-up camping chair at a drive-in – I fall asleep. Every. Damn. Time.  Even if it is a movie I have been dying to see!

Granted, Battleship wasn’t the best flick, but it was loud enough to wake the dead!  But apparently not loud enough to keep me awake. 

Yes, I have a pulse.  I checked.

I’m thinking this is some sort of disorder perhaps?  Maybe some form of narcolepsy – like, I don’t know, cinimatogolepsy. I know I can’t be the only person in the world to suffer from this disorder.  Question is: how do you cure it?!

Massage therapy?

 

Lessons I’ve learned in the last 5 months (Part 1)

Blogging?  I’m too busy living!

 

And yet, here I am… after a long hiatus from the blogosphere, I’ve decided to come back and share my not so interesting life with you.

 

Lessons I’ve learned in the last 5 months (Part 1):

1. Lice are NOT fun!
2.  Don’t let your 5 year old wear fake tattoos on areas of the body that cannot be concealed by clothing. Teachers don’t like it.
3. Let your 15 year old stepson do his OWN laundry to avoid awkward moments.  Eww!
4. Acknowledge the signs of heat exhaustion BEFORE it’s too late.  No bueno :-/
5. Beer, vodka, orange juice, monster, jagermeister and hot tubs don’t mix.
6. Breeding English Bulldogs is a freaking nightmare and I’ll never do it again.
7. Crawfish enchiladas are the BOMB!  Thanks P!
8. Wishing yourself thin doesn’t work (and neither did My Fitness Pal).
9. Ash is not a good color for me.
10. Tan lines are the DEVIL!
11. Don’t ever agree to take in another animal when you already have two adults, a 15 year old stepson, two little girls (5 & 6) two dogs and one cat in a 1600 sq.ft. home.
12. Roller-skating is fun at any age!  Just don’t hold hands with your 5 & 6 year old. There’s nothing worse than a really awkward 31 year old woman in the middle of reliving her youth, trying to catch her balance on roller skates, (while still trying to look cool) falling backwards with legs flailing in the air, and nearly hitting her head on the lubed up hardwood floors.  Who knew a 5 year old could take down a grown ass woman?!
13. I’ll never win “Mother of the Year”

No honey, three balls do not go on one stick

So we FINALLY got around to picking up our Christmas tree, out of necessity really.  I hear for most this is a joyous occasion.  The fam gets together to drink hot chocolate, watch Christmas movies and decorate the tree together.  How did this year's Christmas tree decorating go down at the Savell's?  Glad you asked!

Last night we went to pick out our tree.  Wait, let me back up.  Earlier that day I had my company Christmas party.  Actually won a half day off in the raffle drawing but ended up trading it for a bottle of Baileys (good trade if you ask me).  Decorating the tree and sipping on my prize sounded like the perfect evening.

I got off early and headed over to Hobby Lobby to replenish my dwindling ornament collection.  Guess I got a late start on that, too.  Not much to choose from, unless you wanted to decorate your tree in Texas A&M crap or spend $130 bucks on a wreath.  No thanks!   I did end up grabbing a few things and headed home.

I was so excited to tell my husband about the prize I won!  Whoa did that backfire.  HE ended up with the Tervis tumbler of Baileys on the rocks and I had to drive to pick up the Christmas tree.  In all fairness he did ask first.  In our house, when it comes to roadies you snooze you lose!  Oh well.

Off to get the tree!  It only took us 15 minutes to pick out the perfect one.  AND, We only had to take one potty break - in a outhouse without toilet paper, hand soap or paper towels.  Nice.  Now the dread sinks in.  Now that the girls are a little older, they want to help decorate the Christmas tree.  Damn.


So we get home and pull out all of the Christmas boxes.  In a matter of seconds, the girls have holiday crap in the living room, their room, down the hallway... "mommy, I need batteries"... "mommy, I want to put the balls on the tree" ... "No, I want to put the balls on the tree."  MAKE IT STOP!  I managed to stay calm, though.  And without Bailey's, mind you!

I decided that I would let them put a few things on the tree, just to see how they did.  See Exhibit A.

Exhibit A

"No honey, three balls do not go on one stick."
"Dear, you can't have five red balls in one area."
"Babe, just put that homemade snowman ornament the size of a billboard on the backside of the tree so when we are in the backyard, we can see it through the window."

Grrrr..

I maintained my cool, though.  I just went behind them and rearranged practically everything and we ended up with a beautiful tree.  See Exhibit B.  Next year, I think I'll get the girls their own tree to decorate.  Yeah, that sounds good!

Exhibit B (Damn, it's leaning to the right!)

So how did it go down in the Savell's house?

The fam got together to drink Baileys on the rocks (hubby) and Diet DP (me), watch Christmas movies (Hubby watched the Hangover 2 while me and the girls did the tree) and decorate the tree, together (well, sort of).  Sometimes different is good. :)

Pool Rules by Rants from MommyLand

One of my favorite mommy blogs posted this on their Facebook page.  Can you say awesome?!  Thanks RFML for saying what we are ALL thinking!  Enjoy.

If it hurts you're doing it wrong (yeah, ... okay)

So I figured I would take it waaay back for my first post.   Ah, I remember it like it was yesterday... my first daughter was born - beautiful, angelic, perfect, (insert adjective here).  I had read "What to Expect When Expecting" cover to cover and was thrilled about beginning my new journey.

First on the list - Breastfeeding! What can possibly be more natural and rewarding that that?!  At least that's what I read, anyway.  

So just after she was cleaned up and swaddled oh so sweetly, the nurse brought her over to me.  I must have been a little woozy from the experience still, hell maybe the epidural helped to suppress the pain of latching on.  Either way, my first attempt was somewhat successful.  "YES!  This is going to be a piece of cake!" I thought.

Later that day the nurse brought my bundle of joy.  She was hungry.  I got this!

Damn, was I wrong!  Toes curled, tears streaming down my face, whimpers interrupted by screams of agony.  What was going on?  It seemed so easy before!  Why did it hurt so much?  Just then the doctor came in to check on me.

Doctor:  "So how are the feedings coming along?"

Me: "Well, not so good.  It really hurts and I don't think I can do it."

Doctor:  "Well if it hurts you're doing it wrong."

Really?!  Cause I thought I was doing everything right.  And it wasn't like my daughter wasn't getting anything.   Lord, it's like she was trying to slurp a Wendy's Frosty through a coffee stir stick!  Try it, you have to suck really, really, really hard and your cheeks start to hurt and your face gets all red.  Anyway.

I am a pretty competitive person in general so I wasn't going to let this nursing thing beat me!  Hell no.  I stuck it out and eventually (after about two months) the pain subsided until the biting began.  That's a whole separate blog post.  Let's just say I have the scars to prove it.  Brings to mind a famous movie exchange from Silence of the Lambs.


Lecter: Tell me, Senator. Did you nurse Katherine yourself?
Senator Martin: What?
Lecter: Did you breast feed her?
Aide: Now wait a minute...
Senator Martin: Yes. I did.
Lecter: Toughened your nipples, didn't it?
Aide: You sonofabitch...

Bottom line is this:  When they tell you "If it hurts you're doing it wrong" don't quit!  For some, it DOES hurt!  Sorry my feeding apparatus is not made of steel.  I happen to feel everything that goes on there, which in my case is a blessing and a curse.

The other bottom line is this:  If you feel like to can't do it, don't beat yourself up over it.  Your child will turn out just fine on formula.  Just remember, tougher nips have tried and failed.  At least you can say you tried.