It’s beginning to look a lot like shit.

This morning started off smashingly. My husband gets up at 4 am everyday during the week, and then lets the alarm blare in my ear until he “hears” it. Apparently his hearing must be going, because he sure doesn’t fly out of bed like he used to. Did I mention that he doesn’t have to be to work until 7 am? Yup. He gets up at 4 to watch ESPN. Yes, you heard me right, ESPN.

So, this morning at 6:10 when I heard Lainey yelling “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” I thought my hearing must be going because I swear I just heard the shower curtain open and the water turn ON. How is that possible? Someone who has been up since 4, and has to be to work at 7, is just getting in the shower at 6? (I later found out he fell asleep on the couch, which is also common practice.) So, I trudge into the girl’s room, Lainey takes one look at me and screams “I want my Daddy!” Sweet. I’m going back to bed until 7.

Then, at 6:52 the phone rings. It’s Shawn saying he's not sure, but he thinks school might be closed. Apparently, it looked like this outside:

I turned on the TV, and sure enough school was closed! By this time the girls had made their way into my bedroom and were now throwing a fit about “Now I’m going to miss show-and-share! Now I don’t get to ride home with Julia! I’m not going to get to bring my piece of straw in for baby Jesus!”

Yeah, well, I’m going to miss spin class. Boohoo. Ok, let’s go back to bed. Not. 7:02 the phone rings again. It’s Shawn again. “Yeah, I listened to the radio and Assumption is closed.” That’s great dear husband who is still in his car, because I’m at home with immediate access to television and internet, and I was able to figure that out 5 seconds after talking to you the first time. Surprisingly, I didn’t actually say that, but I wanted to.

Okay, now I’m really going back to bed.

7:50 am: the phone rings again. WTF? It’s my mom this time. “Hi, what are you doing?” What am I doing? What am I doing?! Oh, I’m just decking the halls, making Christmas cookies, painting my nails, that type of thing.

8:00 am: small child enters my room asking for the 100th time when I’m going to get up, when they can go outside to play, and when they can have something to eat. Never. Never to all questions.

8:30 am: I’m up, children are at the table eating chocolate for a snack, and I’m not sure what snow they want to play in because there can’t possibly be more than an inch or two on the ground.

105 days until Spring.

Seriously?

Wow, long time no blog!  I have been sick this week, so nothing too exciting to report on here.  So, I thought, why not talk about other people’s exciting news and drama?

Let me start this by saying I am not a fan of golf.  However, everyone, golf fan or not, knows who Tiger Woods is.  The guy I dated in high school was a huge golfer, and I remember watching The Masters with him when Tiger won it for the first time in 1997.  Up until last week I always thought he (Tiger, not my ex-boyfriend) seemed like a nice, quiet, down-to-Earth guy.  But now this?

Ok, seriously? 

 

Am I the only one who thinks his wife is way hotter than that bimbo?

Here is one of the other girls, Rachel Uchitel, I think she’s the one who originally claimed she was innocent, but then immediately got a lawyer.  Yeah, that just screams innocence!

She’s definitely not slutty.  And this wasn’t the best picture, but what about those lips?

Ok, sorry.  I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent.  I shouldn’t be making fun of these girls, I’m sure they are totally innocent upstanding citizens.  My main point was actually about Tiger.  Again, my question was, SERIOUSLY?  Did you seriously think that you were going to get away with this?  What exactly was your long term plan here?  You thought you could just continue cheating on your drop-dead-gorgeous-swimsuit-model-wife with 2 (possibly 3!) women, and she would never find out?  My favorite part of all of it is this:

The voicemail message.  “Hey, this is Tiger…”  Yeah, you can definitely deny that one because there are lots of men out there who go by “Tiger.”  Dumb Ass.  Am I a bad person if I say good for his wife for beating him with a golf club?!  Maybe all women should have a golf club, just in case of emergency.

Dear Santa

On Saturday I was so ridiculously tired from all the drugs I took on Friday night for my neuralgia Black Friday shopping that I stayed in bed until noon 11 o’clock! I wish I could say that I wrapped all those presents I purchased and plotted out my plan of attack for the rest of the present buying, but the only productive thing I did for the rest of the day was to put the Christmas tree up.

Before we put our tree up I talked to my sister who had also put her tree up on Saturday morning. She said her tree looked “ghetto fabulous.” Side note: I’ve been using “ghetto fabulous” for years and when writing this post I decided to look up the definition in Urban Dictionary. My favorite definition? “When a poor dude gets rich, yet he still fries baloney on the stove.” Ha!

Getting back to the original point… I scoffed at my sister’s ghetto tree, because I knew mine would be nothing short of fabulous. How could it not? All of my ornaments coordinate, I have coordinating bows, sparkly snowball garland, and a clear glass star. The only thing I have going against my tree is that it’s fake.

So, here it is before:

Oh, and that tree skirt I got on Black Friday at TJMaxx for $19.99! How’s that for ghetto fabulous?

Before I could say “think fabulous”, my girls jumped in head first grabbing every ornament they have made or received in the last 4 and 6 years of their life.

Ok, who put that construction paper snow man up?

Oh, no Lainey! Not the cheap plastic candy canes Dad has resurrected from the 70’s!

And we’re done! How do you like it Mom?

I think there may be a few remnants of fabulous there, if you look closely. However, it is perfect. Every ornament was carefully chosen and placed on the tree with love, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.

After the tree decorating, Daddy helped the girls write their letters to Santa. In Lainey’s case all of her presents are bought, so writing the letter proved to be difficult, since her list has changed about 100 times. With a little suggestion, we were able to get a few things on her list which we’re sure Santa will deliver (wink, wink).

I’m not sure you will be able to read it, but Lainey’s says “I was a good girl this year.” When it came time for Alivia to write hers she was a little more of a realist:

That’s right. “I was a good girl today.” However, after hearing what her sister had written, Lainey was quick to point out that Alivia had pinched her earlier in the day. Everyone should have a little sister to keep them on their toes, right?!

Alivia wanted to pose with her letter by the tree. Please note the hair style change that occurred sometime between tree decorating and letter writing. I’m not sure what that was all about. Next weekend the girls are going to bring their letters to the Santa mailbox at Macy’s. For every letter collected Macy’s will donate $1 to the Make-A-Wish Foundation!

We also put up the rest of our indoor Christmas decorations. I only took a picture of my favorite one:

The Santa and reindeer are really fat, and it’s so cute! I bought them at a store in my town last year, and I’m hoping to someday put them on my mantle when we have a new house. So, for now they have a home on top of the entertainment center. Oh, and the little sign on the right hand side says: Dear Santa, Define Naughty. I also have another one that says: “Don’t get your tinsel in a tangle.” I just love them, and they crack the girls up too!

I hope everyone else had a nice long weekend too. Am I the only one dreading Monday tomorrow? Christmas Vacation cannot get here fast enough!

The forgotten Holiday.

Yesterday I was flipping through radio stations on my way to get my haircut, and I found that one station up from my normal XM station was a station called “Holly.” I thought “what’s this?” (My mom’s name is Holly and I was pretty sure it wasn’t her.) So, I listened.

It was Christmas music! Yessss! The next thing I know I’m singing “Frosty the Snowman” obscenely loud and loving every minute of it. It was good Christmas music too, you know the kind you can sing to and it makes your heart smile.

After I got my haircut I had to pick up a few things for my world’s-lamest-Thanksgiving-dish-to-pass. As I was trying to shop I found myself constantly being drawn to Christmas candy, toys, cards, and even Christmas alcohol. Ok, seriously, Meijer had the coolest bottle of absolute Vodka with a sequin sleeve on it!

As a general rule, I don’t put alcohol on my Christmas list, but I can make an exception for a bedazzled bottle of booze!

I digress. So, I’m back in my car driving home, rocking out to Jingle Bells. Suddenly, I feel guilty. It’s not even Thanksgiving and I’m buying presents, singing Christmas carols, and dreaming of sugar plums. Ok, that last part was a lie. My point is, I was drawn into the hype. The let’s-get-started-on-Christmas-before-Thanksgiving-is-even-here hype. This has never happened to me before.

Thanksgiving is my favorite Holiday. I heart Thanksgiving. I love the turkey, stuffing, squash, green bean casserole, crab rangoon, and pumpkin pie. Yeah, I said crab rangoon. I love watching my Mom freak out because her turkey is never done when she wants it to be. I love watching my sister stuff herself so much that she has to run to the bathroom thinking she’s going to vomit, but then it was only a burp. I love looking at the Black Friday ads, plotting out all the places we need to go and things we’re going to buy, saying we’re going to get out of bed at 4 am, but then not even leaving the house until 8. I. Love. It. All.

So, I want to apologize to Thanksgiving. If I knew Thanksgiving’s address, I would probably send an apology card or flowers. That’s how sorry I am.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone tomorrow! I’d be lying if I didn’t say tomorrow I’m most excited about making the “Pink Panty Pull-Down” recipe I got from Semi-Slacker Mom. I told my husband it was a girls-only drink, so I hope my mom and sister-in-law are thirsty (my sister is knocked up)! What are you most excited to eat (or drink)?

Tami Twin?

Do you remember when I wrote this post about my racial confusion?

That was almost 3 months ago, and in the meantime I have really been working on my white-ness. My tan has faded, my ghetto bootie is a little flatter, and I’m trying to speak in redneck instead of Ebonics.

All was going well, until Saturday night when we were in Old Navy. Shawn was helping me look for a sweater in my size and the girls were behind us marveling at the mannequin display, when I heard this:

“Hey, Mom! That girl looks like you!”

I was afraid to turn around. I knew what was coming. I think Shawn looked first and when I heard him bust out laughing I knew it was true. Alivia was pointing at her:

Yeah, you guessed it. The girl in the middle. Alivia was so proud too, like that girl was my twin or something.

Then, the following day Shawn made sure to bring it up again. I was telling him about a guy who stopped Lainey and I in Meijer on Friday, and told us his kids went to Assumption too.

Shawn was totally dumbfounded, and said “How did he remember you?” Of course, I jokingly said “Hell-o (pointing at my hot body), like who could forget this?” He didn’t miss a beat, and said, “No, it’s probably because you’re the only person of color at that school.” Grrr…

Oh, and I almost forgot. Speaking of Old Navy, I did wear my skinny jeans today. I’m not sure if I rocked them though, or just wore them. That’s yet to be determined.

Are these my Mom’s jeans?

Today I became the not so proud owner of a pair of “skinny” jeans.  At first I thought there was no way I would ever buy into the skinny jean fad.  The main reason being that if I had to answer the question “What one part of your body would you like to change?” my answer would and will always be:  “thighs.” 

However, after standing in front of the full length mirror in my bedroom for a long time, and doing the thigh-coin-test, I discovered that my thighs are smaller than they have been in years.  So, I figured if there ever was a time for me to wear skinny jeans, it’s now.  Right?  Wrong.

The pair I got is from Old Navy.  Now that I think about it, this might be the first pair of jeans I’ve ever bought from there.  Anywho, they were only $29.50, so I figured it was a safe investment for something I might only wear once.  They look something like this:

Okay, they actually look better than that picture, but that’s the best I could find.  Oh, and I would never wear them with heels.  I was planning on wearing them with boots or maybe ballet flats, because that’s how I roll.

When I tried them on I thought I looked totally bad-ass.  I was definitely the coolest 30 year old mom in the store at that given moment, and possibly all day.

So, tonight when we got home I raced inside to try them on for Shawn and the girls.  I looked in the same full-length mirror which had earlier convinced me I had skinny thighs, but what I saw was this:

Damn It. 

Okay, I have spent the past 15 (maybe even 20) years of my life trying to get my Mom to stop wearing tapered leg jeans.  Finally, two years ago she crossed over to the dark side.  Just thinking about the day we were in the Ann Taylor Loft and I convinced her to buy a boot cut jean and a trouser jean brings a tear to my eye. 

So, there I am staring at myself in the mirror and I all I can think is “Hey, Tami…the 80’s called, they say they want your mom’s jeans back.  We looked for them at her house, but she said you were wearing them (gasp).”

Sigh.  I don’t know if I can do it.  Has anyone been able to rock skinny jeans and not feel like they’re in a re-run of The Facts of Life?

Can you fart and paint it green?

I was looking through my MySpace blog for a Flashback Friday post for today when I suddenly realized something.  I lied to you on my “30 Things” post a couple weeks ago.  Don’t hate me, I had completely forgot about this revelation I had a few years ago.

Here is your Flashback Friday from April 16, 2008:

When I was younger my aunt used to tell us the most ridiculous jokes.  Most of them revolved somehow around Pollacks (that is a weird word to look at in type, so if you don't know what it means, I believe it's slang for Polish idiots). 

For some reason one joke has always stuck with me.  It's goes like this:

A Swede, a Canadian, and a Pollack were walking in the forest one day when they met a fearsome Troll who naturally wanted to eat them.

"I'll spare your lives if you manage to tell me to do one thing I can't do "

The Swede said : "Look at that mountain. Eat it!" The Troll did and then he ate the Swede.

The Canadian said: "Look at that lake over there. Drink it! " The Troll did and then he ate the Canadian.

The Pollack said: "Can you fart and paint it green?!"

The Pollack was allowed to go on his way.

What does that even mean?  How could you possibly fart and paint it green?  Obviously you can't, but is it funny because it's just so stupid?  I don't know.  Or can you actually fart and paint it green?  Well, friends, today I found out:  YES. YOU. CAN.

Alivia finally (after 2 months) had her appointment with the pediatric urologist.  The doctor was a middle-aged Mr. Rogers type man (but without the child molester under-tones)  who was very nice and thorough.  As he was going through her test results with us, he showed us the pictures from the ultrasound and bladder x-ray (the one with the straw). 

One of the x-rays showed a little of her stomach, he pointed at some black spots that were scattered around the image, and said "See that, do you know what that is?"  For a brief moment I thought to myself "Oh my God, they're tumors!"  Then, he looks at Alivia and says "Those are your toots!"

So, there you have it.  I saw a picture of a fart.  This can only lead me to believe that you can indeed fart and paint it green.  If only the troll had known!

Sorry, I couldn’t do a post without a picture and this is the best I could find.  I promise this is the lowest I will ever stoop to post a picture.