My AH-Mazing Trip to FL - Part 3 (I'm "fair"ly certain that this was fun and my meeting with you "can be my Doug")

"Must find french fries...it's my only means of survival."

My AH-Mazing FL Trip - Part 1 (aka...the first 24hrs)

Life is crazy sometimes.  My life, well it is crazy all the time.  There are 24hrs in a day...7 days in a week and 365 days in a year...all of them, for me...for the most part are C-R-A-Z-Y!  Not "crazy busy" or "crazy hectic" but "holy shit is this really happening right now" kind of craziness.

So what is one to do when life is just coming down on ya and you need to get your bearings??  Well, if you're me...you plan a trip back home.  I had gone back and forth with the idea for awhile but then the opportunity presented itself along with free lodging and a LONG break from the new job (God bless you Louisiana and your Mardi Gras lovin self) so it was time to hit the road, literally, and make the drive down to my hometown of Clearwater, FL.

"Who packs the night before and forgets their friggin camera???"

Seriously....who buys this??

Because I am ALL about providing hard hitting informative blogs...stop laughing...I am bringing this latest sampling of my take on what's being sold in the wee hours of the night. 

You looking to get rid of that turkey neck?

Wanna pump up your booty??

Thinking of new ways to sculpt and tone your upper arms and make sure that they aren't waving good-bye when you are trying to say "hello gorgeous"???

Well fear no more my wonderful friends.  There are a gaggle of jacklegs just praying that you are asking these questions and many more about your appearance.  And they have spent gads of time and money cooking up a slew of items praying on your susceptibility to idiotic products that are thrown on your television at 3 o'clock in the morning.

Sometimes it's the promise of "quick results", other times it's the lure of that $19.99 price tag but more so I believe it is the exhaustion of your capacity to process realistic thoughts.  Yep, in the span of just 45 minutes during another one of my sleepless nights I saw not one, not two, but three asinine infomercials for products such as the Neck Slimmer, the Brazilian Butt Lift workout system and the Shake Weight.

After each one I had to think...what's the draw?  Sadly, my thought process should have been "what's the catch" but seriously...I'm exhausted and the fact that I am actually able to string together two lucid thoughts is beyond triumphant for me.  So I decided to do a little research...yep, that's me...bored to death caring about you guys, my readers.

Well with the butt sculpter, if you call within the next 5 minutes you will get a....wait for it...make sure you're seated...a pencil.  Yep.  A whole pencil. 

Really?  REALLY a whole pencil??  Holy shit...let me drop what I am doing right this minute and make sure I get in on that little piece of gravity defying technology. 

These people probably held a meeting to put together this deal and most likely went through a checklist of what would be in their "package". 

Brazilian Butt Jackleg #1:  Umm, okay...so we've got the 3 DVD's, the fat burning food plan, the booty resistance band and a tape measure.  It just feels like it's missing something don't you think?

Brazilian Butt Jackleg #2:  Gosh #1...I don't know.  All that seems like a great deal for the $59.85 price point we are shooting for.  How could we POSSIBLY make it better??

Brazilian Butt Jackleg #1:  I just feel like it needs something else (fidgets with the pencil in his hand and then makes a face as though he's had his very own Oprah "ah ha" moment)  Do you think we should throw in a pencil? 

Brazilian Butt Jackleg #2:  Wow...that is such a good question.  But what would they use it for and would we need to increase the price?

Brazilian Butt Jackleg #1:  They'd use the pencil to shove in the fat crease that is on their flabby asses to see if they have accomplished the toned butt that we have photo shopped onto the pamphlet as the "AFTER" result image.   And we won't raise the price...this pencil will be an added bonus!

---Boardroom errupts in cheers as if they have cured cancer---

Oh, and FYI it isn't even sharpened.  Probably did that for legal purposes because if you are stupid enough to purchase this product then I'd be willing to bet that you'd be stupid enough to shove a sharpened pencil near your ass!

Also, I went a step further and contacted the customer service number (because I honestly have nothing better to do at this hour) and asked if I could have a discount on my purchase because I already have my own pencil.  The customer service rep seemed flabbergasted that I would even suggest such an absurd thing.  Yeah, right...like I am the moron in this situation. 

This person is trying to tell me that their pencil is made specifically for the purpose of checking your progress.  Uh huh...so you mean to tell me that there is a corporation...somewhere...that is making pencils for the sole purpose of checking if you have a flabby ass?  Dear God, please let Chris Hanson from Dateline do an expose on this!

I finally gave up on the pencil fight and hung up on the slightly hyperventilating customer service rep whose name was Tawny and who I imagine was a stripper at one time but who injured herself with a sharpened pencil and now has to do this thankless job.

Next on my list of ridiculous items is the Neck Slimmer.  Granted you don't get a pencil with this little gem but at $19.99 it seems like a steal compared to the butt deal.  The first observation on this product other than the overwhelming urge to scream out "are you FUCKING kidding me" is that you get the added bonus of looking like you're giving a BJ with no partner on the receiving end.  Hell you could save yourself the money and do the real act and not only please your partner but also probably hopefully get the same result of a toned neck.  Plus my way offers the possibility of a full on sexual romp therfore allowing you to burn calories, killing two workouts with one effort.

You're Welcome Men of America!

Last on my list of items is the Shake Weight.  Another reasonably priced piece of ridiculousness at $19.95.  My immediate reaction to this commercial was how sexual it seems.  Maybe it's my lack of intimate moments as of late but it just looked like one huge phallic free for all!  It cemented in my mind why men should NOT be allowed to create any type of workout equipment to tone or improve the female physique, especially if it's gonna come out looking like a prop for a porno.


I don't know for sure that these items were created by a male or team of them but I have a pretty strong sneaking suspicion that there is at least one pair of nuts behind each of those items.

Well to each their own.  While I may not get the drawl that these products hold I don't have time to think about it right now because I've gotta go use my Thigh Master and wait for my Perfect Brownie's to finish baking. 

~JP

In job searching, as in life...it really is ALL about the hair.

This week has been particularily productive.  I haven't slept in all day and I've managed to leave the house not once, but on several seperate occasions...go me!  I realize it is only Tuesday...but I'm taking baby steps towards success.

Yesterday brought my first interview in almost 2 weeks.  I was beginning to think it was me.  Then I realized...who ever snagged me as an employee would be extremely lucky.  Way to go with the delusional thought process!

Last week, on Friday I got a call on a resume that I had emailed only 45 minutes earlier.  I was like "oh hot damn"...this is my jam..have me dancin until the a.m....oh wait..THAT is totally not even relevant in this situation.  Anyways..I was completely awe struck with how quickly I had gotten a response.  I was more than a little excited.  When the woman was unwilling to give me any details on what the positon entailed and what the name of the company was I went from intrigued to completely mezmorized by the mystery of it all.

Monday brought my interview and it went really well.  My horroscope on facebook had predicted that red was my lucky color for the day, so I didn't try to tempt the internet gods and I doned a red top.  I rocked the straight hair feeling that it made me look more professional and serious.

I got a great vibe and the interview went for a little over an hour.  The woman that interviewed me seemed to think I was a "good fit" and that I'd "bring a lot to the office" and promised that I would hear something by the end of the week.

I went home hopeful and already arranging my soon to be workspace in my mind.  It's what I do people...it's the just how I am.

I slept great last night...yes it was thanks in part to the wine but I'd like to think it was the universe speaking to me about the position and this dreams regarding the position ensued.

This morning after bringing the kids to school I got another call on another resume I had sent out.  This one was in the same vicinity as the interview yesterday, about 5 minutes from where my last job was located.  I'm used to the commute so I didn't take issue with it.

I consulted facebook and found that today blue would be my color of positive vibes.  Who am I to fuck with the iron clad workings of the virtual internet guru?

I'm two months into job searching which makes me 1 month behind on mortgage and completely out of excuses for my children who want EVERYTHING that cost money.  When Jennifer Lopez sang "My Love Don't Cost a Thing" she DEFINITELY was not singing about my kids!  That's for damn sure.

Feeling that a change of color wasn't enough I decided to go from seriously straight to curly confidence. 

I went in thinking..."no big deal.  I'm pretty sure I got this job from yesterday all locked up.  I'll just go in and get this interview out of the way and wait for the call from lady I spoke with yesterday".

That mentality lasted all of 3...ergh...maybe 5 minutes.  At that point I went from totally in love with the job that was described yesterday to seriously land this position that I was interviewing for now.

There was the increase in pay.  The potential for advancement and the fact that this employer repeated over and over how they were interested in keeping their employee's happy to reduce turn over.  This was a HUGE change from my last employer where we were told on a daily if not hourly basis that "WE WERE ALL REPLACABLE".  I believe the phrase "drones" was used on a weekly basis.

This interview lasted over an hour as well and I met with both the office manager and the owner who happened to be husband and wife.  I felt good when I left and was told that they were hoping to get the position filled and start the new hire on Monday.  I began to walk out, saying good-bye and thanking them for their time.  They called out and said that they would be making a decision by the end of the day.  I had heard that in the past and remembered that this is the south...every thing moves slower in the south.  I just nodded and smiled.

It was 2:02 p.m. when I walked out of the office.  I had to go and get gas because my SUV was crying for more ways to drain my bank account.  Ugh...as much as I love my Honda Pilot...sometimes I miss my Camry.  I miss it's cheap fill up.  So I manuevered through construction first calling Jon then my best friend Allie to discuss the most recent interview.  No one answered.  So unreliable.

Allie was the first to call me back.  I went through the entire interview.  Weighed out the pros and cons of this job in comparison to the interview yesterday.  Of course I talked as if I had both of them in the bag.  Seriously...I have GOT to stop doing this.  It never fails that my over confidence leads to utter disappointment in the end.  But when your talking to someone that has known you for almost as long as you've known yourself you find that it is like looking in a three way mirror with bad lighting...you see all your faults and flaws.  You see the things that could keep you from achieving any kind of success in any part of your life and then the sheer panic sets in.

Thankfully she is REALLY good when it comes to dealing with my irrational side.  We talked it out and mid sentence my phone rang.  It was the job that I had just left.  It was 2:45 p.m.  I didn't know if the fact that only 40 minutes had passed was a good or a bad thing.

I clicked answer on my Crackberry and tried to sound as professional as one can sound as they drive 75 mph down a rain slicked interstate. 

Me:  Hello.

Perspective employer:  Hi.  Is this Jessica?

Me:  Yes it is.

Perspective employer:  Hi this is "your perspective employer".

Me:  Oh...hi how are you?  (feeling completely idiotic for saying this but trying to pass it off non chalantly)

Perspective employer:  Are you driving?

Me:  Yes.  It's raining.  Sorry for the noise.

Perspective employer:  Can you drive and talk or should I call you back?

Me:  (feeling that this may be a post interview test about multi-tasking)  Yes.  Yes I can talk and drive in the rain.  (oh god...why did I have to say that...you are such an idiot...you sound like a fucking idiot...they are gonna fire you...oh wait they have to hire you to fire you...okay...they are DEFINITELY not going to hire you because you are an I-D-I-O-T)

Perspective employer:  Well we have discussed your resume and based on your interview....

Me:  (holding breath and trying to focus on the road)

Perspective employer:  ....we would like to offer you the position.  Can you start on Monday?

Me:   (attempting NOT to drive off the road while doing the happy dance in utter elation at having been offered a job after a month of searching and having epic failure's in regards to interviews)  I am very interested.  I would like to accept the position. (omg...you sound like a fucking moron...now that they have in fact hired you...they may in fact fire you before you even start because they will have reviewed this retarded response)

Brand new employer:  Well then we will see you Monday morning at 8a.  Wear scrubs and we will go from there.

Me:  Okay.  Thank you.

I hang up and contemplate pulling over so that I can scream and dance without possibly running other drivers off the road.  I decide against it seeing as I am only one exit away from the mall which is my final destination.

I called my best friend back and ran through the details of the job as if I am reviewing a date from back in my high school days.  My first concern in all my backwards thinking was "do you think I agreed to quickly" and "what if the other job calls me in the next couple of minutes". 

I was deaf to the cosmic voices that were literally screaming "accept the gift I have just given you dumb shit".  Nope...here I was with the grass MUST be greener on the other side of the employment fence.  My best friend tried to lay rational thoughts upon me....but thankfully she can be just as crazy as I am at times so while she would drag me to reality she would also feed my fantasy that a virtual bidding war would ensue over my AMAZING talents.

Jon stepped in and brought my ass firmly back to reality and said that if the other job did in fact call and offer me the position it's a first come, first employ mentality.  He told me to thank her but to respectfully decline the position, remain true to the one that hired me first and move on to paycheck earning bliss.  That theory seems all fine and good IF the person he was talking to was a clear thinking individual.  Reality was...he was, unfortunately talking to me.  Reality is only what I am willing to make of it and my reality didn't include being...well...umm...realistic.

Thankfully, I sat back.  Took a few deep breaths.  Glared hatefully at my Crackberry willing it to ring with the a call from the previous days interview and when that didn't occur I made the call to advise her that I had been offered a job, which I had accepted.  I was prepared to "respectfully decline" her envisioned fawning advances to win me over to her position.

Yeah, that didn't happen.  When I got the woman on the phone she acted as if she couldn't remember who the hell I was.  I was like hey...jackleg...I'm the one you were showing your grandkids baby and school pics!  Remember me now?!?

Apparently not.

At that moment I knew I had made the right decision.  Curly hair and all I will be moving on to the next chapter in my professional life.  Thank you facebook and all your cosmic certainty.  I'd like to commend you on the color choices but ask that in the future you advise individual on hairstyle choices.  It would save a lot of hassle in the long run.

~JP

And the countdown to 10 begins...

In just 7 days my youngest will breach double digits.  So exciting for her!!  So...sorta...heartbreaking for me.  I still remember life before she arrived.  I still remember every moment that brought us to welcoming her into the world and as I count down the days that lead us to welcoming her 10th birthday I would like to share those memories with you...

I remember talking to my mom when I was younger and I would ask her about before I was born and she would say, "those things happened back before you were even a glimmer in my eye" or "back before you were even a blip on my radar".  I say that to my kids now, so here's the story of Hannah...ya, know...back before she was even a glimmer on my radar or some shit like that.

Part 1 - What do you mean I'm pregnant??

When Jon and I met I was already a mom to a pretty great little girl.  Finding Jon and seeing that without ever really being around kids he seemed to posess a great instinct towards being a dad was more than just a little sexy.  Then I realized the qualities that he was exhibiting were that of being an overgrown kid...the sexiness wore off just a bit.

Right off the bat we had a discussion about more kids.  He said he wouldn't mind having one of his own....some day....but he was fine just being a stepdad to Olivia.  We decided that we would focus on our relationship, making Olivia happy, getting married and give it about 3 years before we would discuss baby. 

My body had other plans and before we were even married it began to alert us on how it thought this whole procreation thing would go.  First off came the unplanned pregnancy which at 10 weeks ended in a miscarriage.  I was heartbroken.  Jon felt unable to comfort me and I began being OVERLY careful to keep this type of thing from happening again.

It was difficult because from the start of our relationship up until about a month into our engagement I was plagued with horrible cramps and extremely irregular menstrual cycles, sometimes not having any break between periods even with birth control.  I finally went to the doctor to find out what was wrong.  It was deemed after many test and procedures that I had a lame ovary, broke down cervix and my uterus was crap!  They found that I had endometriosis.  My left ovary was covered in scar tissue and kept adhering to whatever it came close too, my pelvis was tilted and there was a small tumor that needed to be removed from my cervix and biopsied.  No biggie.

I was shocked because I was only 21.  I had a friggin broke down palace of a femal reproductive system.  Yippee for me.  Thanks genetic makeup of my family...you fuckin rock!

The doctor did the biopsy and began handling the cervical issues.  I was advised that plenty of women can conceive with only 1 cooperating ovary and that changing birth control  would help with the pains of the endometriosis and hopefully get the periods under control.

July 12, 1998 brought our wedding day.  Life as a family of three continued pretty smoothly and seamlessly until October 13, 1998 when while driving home from picking up dinner my car was hit by a jackleg that ran thru a stop sign because he was trying to swat at a bee and smacked into my car while going 45 mph.  Olivia thankfully walked away unscathed.  I was not as lucky.  After being released from the hospital I began a grueling regimen of physical therapy.  Every month I was still following up with my doctors about keeping the pain of the endometriosis in check.  I would have my good months and my really bad ones. 

In November 1998, after a particularly disheartening appointment with my doctor, he advised that having a child sooner than later would be best for us.  My endometriosis was getting worse and not better and there were other issues.  I was having increasing amounts of ovarian cysts and my cycles were bordering on hemorrhages and not just bleeding.  He told Jon and I to discuss a time frame that we would like to get pregnant and then we could all sit down to discuss when it would be a good idea to stop the birth control. 

Jon and I talked.  We hadn't even been married 6 months yet.  Most of which had been spent with me in therapy for the accident or at the doctors for my female issues.  We hadn't even had our honeymoon phase because I threatened to kill Jon if he tried to touch me.  The pain from the injuries from my accident squashed any desires I had to have sex with Jon. It had been a long, long, LONG frustrating month for us.  Now we had the added stress of thinking about a baby.  Or at least trying to get pregnant.  This was too soon.  It was too much to think about.

Deep in our hearts, however, we knew we wanted to have a child together.  Olivia was almost 4 1/2...we figured if we could get pregnant in the next year that would be a good time frame.  What if it was truly now or never?  We decided to go for it.   

The following month's appointment fell on December 11th and it was decided that I should stop the pill immdiately.  With the amount of problems I was having on it the doctor really thought that the "probability of you conceiving in the next 6 months is highly unlikely" he suggested that I would most likely be pregnant by "spring...summer at the earliest".  We should have asked him to be a bit more specific.

I took my last pill on Saturday, December 12, 1998 out of pure habit.  I started a brand new job on Monday, December 14 and on that following Saturday, December 19, Jon and I attended his company Christmas party at a 5 star hotel with open bar.  It was a good week. 

We rung in the New Year of 1999 in the ER with Olivia battling pneumonia.  On January 5, 1999 I was rushed to th hospital in dire abdominal pain and burning up with a fever.  We were only 5 days in at this point, but we deemed that 1999 sucked monkey butt!

Upon being admitted the nurse asked me if there was any chance I could be pregnant.  I wanted to spit at her.  Finally I found my voice and said, "in order to be pregnant you have to have sex".  She didn't find that humorous. 

I, however was dead serious and referring to the fact that since my accident in October the grueling hours of physical therapy in order for me to regain full use of my left arm due to nerve damage and torn rotator cuff I was in so much fucking pain that if Jon even attempted to look at me sexually I would kill him in my mind.  NO we were NOT having sex...thank you very much for bringing that up while I am sure I am dying from god only knows what this is.

They called my gynecologist since he was the only doctor I ever saw.  Sad...very, very sad when you are NOT pregnant but are on a first name basis with your gyno!  Jon tried muttering something in my ear about sex and an open bar but I told him to shut the fuck up unless he was injecting pain meds via osmosis through my ear lobe.  He retreated to the corner of the ER cubicle and attempted to sleep through my crying.

They wheeled me away to ultrasound.  Finally they declared that I was in need of an emergency appendectomy.  They took blood and urine to declare in fact that I was NOT pregnant...surprise...and whisked me away to surgery.  I woke to the joys of a morphine pump and left many a funny drugged up message for my husband who got to sleep unbothered in our bed.  I didn't care because I got to spend my 22nd birthday hooked up to my new best friend and the nurses brought me cake.  Super score!

I returned home to recouperate from surgery but found that every time I tooked the prescribed medication I would vomit.  At first I thought I was having an allergic reaction to them.  I called the nurse at the surgeons office and was advised that if I wasn't itching or breaking out in a rash that it was most likely not an allergic reaction.  She advised me to cut the pills in half and try that.

Two days later I was in a world of pain and puking my guts out.  I called the surgeons office again.  By now I had myself convinced that I was one of those individuals that had a surgical tool or gause sewn up inside me and this was my bodys way of alerting me.  In hindsight I am truly thankful that we didn't have a computer in our house at this time because I would have been googling the shit out of this type of thing.  Instead I was calling the surgeons office every 30 minutes until  I drove the nurse insane and she finally agreed to give me an appointment.

I went in to see my surgeon.  He checked the incision.  Clean.  He felt my belly.  Not swollen.  He asked me my symptoms.  I told him I was exhausted and vomitting.  He looked first perplexed and then concerned.  I thought...ahhh haa...see I'm not crazy...he thinks he may have left something inside me.

He orders an ultrasound.  Immediately.  I'm thinking okay they are gonna send me over to the hospital to have it done...la la la laaa...and then boom next thing I know there is a monitor in the room and they are squirting gel on my belly. 

I was more than just a little freaked out at this point.  I'm thinking oh my god...I'm gonna end up on one of those medical mystery shows.  

Ten minutes later he has me to go and take a urine test.  I mentally get offended thinking...I am NOT crazy or on drugs (hello, did you not hear how I've been puking them up)...but alas I pee into the cup.

His nurse walks in looking confused.  He follows directly behind her and shuts the door.  He sits down solemnly in front of me and says the words you NEVER want to hear from someone who has cut you open, "I don't know how we missed this..." dun dun duunnnnn.

Oh god...oh fuck me god...I'm dying.  I brace myself for what is about to come next.  "Jessica, you're pregnant."

Gulp. 

"I don't know how we missed it but you are pregnant."  Double gulp. 

My mind is racing....ummmm....not possible....I've had NO sex....since, oh...hmmm...god, when exactly WAS the last time....oh was it October...like the 11th maybe...oh god...oh god...this is horrible..I am a married...newly married woman...I am sexy..why am I not having sex. 

This thought reel is interupted by another one.  Nope...he has to be wrong...very, very wrong...I'm not pregnant...the hospital said I wasn't pregnant...I remember....I was in pain they were witholding medication saying that first they had to make sure I wasn't pregnant...I remember wanting to kill the nurse, kill Jon....kill anyone that might refuse me pain meds....they jammed a friggin sonogram rod up into my vajayjay then catherized me because CLEARLY I was NOT in enought gut wrenching pain to take the cleanest of clean urine samples...after which they deemed they would need to draw blood to make "triple" sure that I was indeed NOT pregnant....then finally they gave me the news that yes all test were in fact negative and I could have my reward...pain killers.

Nope, nope, nope...I bet he found surgical scissors or a clamp in there.  Yep, that is what it is...he's trying to save his ass...oh, he's talking again...I guess I should listen and figure out how to sue him later.

Surgeon:  Are you okay?  Should I call your husband??

Me:  Umm...no.  No.  I.  Umm...I.  Are you sure?

Surgeon:  Well I'd like you to follow up with your gynocologist, since it's his specialty...but I'm pretty sure.

Me:  (mind made up that he is obviously smoking crack) Ok...well I will call the office to make an appointment.  Am I ok to go??

Surgeon:  Yes, we will just need to see you in about a week to remove the sutures.  And really, please make sure you make an appointment with the other doctor.  Soon.  Like before your next appointment with me.

I leave the surgeons office and go directly to the drug store.  I purchase a 2 pack of EPT.  I need to see this shit for myself.  I mean...clearly this fool has no idea what he is talking about.  He should stick to removing appendixes and gall bladders.  Unless I have achieved immaculate conception (twice...because my mom still hasn't wrapped her head around the idea that I actually had sex to conceive my first child) there is no way I am pregnant.


I pass a billboard for Jon's work.  And then like a ton of bricks it hits me.  OH MY GOD...the Christmas party.  We had sex after the Christmas party while we were staying the night in that plush, overly expensive, hotel suite.  Oh shit...ohhh, shit, shit, shit!  This guy could be right.

3 hours and 2 pee sticks later I am locked in our 1/2 bathroom.  Jon has come home from work and is standing on the other side of the door trying to negotiate with me to come out.  I yell through the door to run to the store across the street and buy some pregancy test.  He is not aware the I am already holed up with 2 positive reads and the info from the surgeon's office.  About 20 minutes later he returns.  I try to get him to slide them under the door.  I can tell his patience with me is wanning so I shove the two test I've already taken in a drawer.  Open the door.  Snatch the next 2 test from him.  Force a smile and slam the door.  I can hear him shuffle away to the couch in defeat and then television clicks on.  I spend the next few minutes chugging down a cup of juice that I snuck while he was a the store and finally am able to take the final two test. 

I emerge from the bathroom crying.  Jon is clearly distressed and unsure what to make of me.  I hold up all 4 test and declare that he is gonna be a dad.  Joy turns to fear and then worry.  He is thinking the same thing I am.  If I AM pregnant like the multiple pee soaked test have announced, then that means they did surgery and I spent 2 days on a morphine drip all while growing a human.  FUCK!

I called to make an appointment with my gynocologist and was surprised when the office was all "yeah, we've been waiting for your call...your surgeon sent down your file and told us you would be calling...figured we would give you until tomorrow and then we would call you to schedule an appointment".  Double FUCK! 

We went in and I peed in another cup.  Positive.  What a shocker!?!  Didn't really think I'd end up with 4 false positives...5 if you count the one I took the day prior at the surgeons office.

Then they ordered an ultrasound so we could hopefully view the little tadpole.  You could barely see that there was anything there but there was a flutter.  They said it was a heartbeat.  The doctor asked over and over again when the date of my last period was.  It was hard to calculate since I never stopped bleeding.  But I knew for a downright fact the only sex we had since before October 13 had been on the night of the Christmas party.  I knew that was FOR SURE the night this little squiggly dot was conceived.

The doctor tried to be all nonchalant about the fact that it seemed surgery was performed while I was just shy of 2 1/2 weeks pregnant.  He said we would just have to take a "wait and see" attitude and he would want me back in a month or "sooner if there is any signs of distress".  I felt like asking do you mean signs of distress in my womb or just generally with me?  It seemed too broad a question so I kept it to myself.

The journey to motherhood (the second time) was just beginning and I kept thinking...man I had always wanted the next go around to be a bit less dramatic.  I bet this means the pregnancy will be smooooooth sailing....

~JP

They have books for that you know?

When my kids were little...after the tiresome 3's (for some reason we didn't get terrible 2's...I'm thinking years 5 to present have MORE than made up for this) we would read them books that my MIL or my mother (one of the garage queen maven's) had gotten for them that went over manners and the basics of common courtesy.  There was one on biting, which I really wish I had gotten round about the breast feeding time.  Not because I'm looney enough to think that it would have worked to coax them from chomping on my nipples, but because I would have used it as a shield.  Think guillotine...but the baby would maintain her head and I would maintain my nipple.  Win, win situation.

Others were on choosing your words, sharing, hitting, kindness...etc.

After watching the MTV VMA's tonight it is clear that Kanye West is in need of those books.  The way that this 32 year old man behaved towards a 19 year old Taylor Swift was downright...well...it was fucking rude!

I sat watching with Hannah and the reaction was one of utter disgust.  Out of the mouths of babes....

Hannah:  Oh.  Oh.  Oh my god...mom, mom...MOM do you really think Taylor will win??

Me: I...

Hannah:  (unwilling to let me finish thought...have no idea where she gets this from) Mom...oh ma gawd...they are about to announce the winner!  Oh, oh ma gawd!  Do you think she will mom?  Do you??

Me:  I re.....

TV ~ Taylor Lautner announces:  "And the moon man for Best Female video goes to.....Taylor Swift."

Applause...applause...applause...Taylor Swift looking surprised in WAY too red lipstick but still beautiful.....

Hannah:  Oh, ma gawd...."why can't you see...you belong to meeeee"(daughter singing and bopping around my bed)....

....Taylor Swift begins voice breaking speech....

Hannah:  Oh ma gawd mom, mom I love this....huh...what?? 

Me:  What the hell?? (secretly proud I didn't say fuck)

...Kanye jumps on stage mumbling some shit about Beyonce and how "Single Ladies" was the best video of all time...

Hannah:  What is his problem?  Why is he being so mean?  Mom, mom...MOM it's not his turn...tell him it's NOT HIS TURN??  Is he making her cry??

Me:  (trying to calm a very pissed 9yr old) Maybe it's just a skit...maybe she is gonna rip off her dress and reveal some little frock and her and Kanye are gonna break it down country/rap style!

I am not really believing the shit that I am trying to sell.  Unfortunately, I had a daquiri earlier and this put me completely off mom guard and I really didn't think that I was gonna have to dig deep for life leasons so I had to act quickly to explain away the douchebaggery that was taking place on my television.  I watched as my very caring and passionate child turn into someone who looks as though she is ready to commandeer my Honda, book it to NY and kick some Kanye ass!

Hannah:  Mom that doesn't look like part of the show.  Mom they wouldn't let her cry if it was part of the show...would they?

Me:  (now I am not only pissed at Kanye...I have to add MTV to my shit list because they are allowing my thin skinned baby to be hurt...if anyone is gonna fuck up this kid it's gonna be me...I call dibs damnit) No hun...I don't think it is part of the show.  I think he is just a moron.

Hannah:  Well he needs to say sorry.  You would make me say sorry.

Me:  You're right Han...if your sister was uber successful and making me a butt load of money and you got up on stage and pissed on her speech I would make you apologize.

Hannah:  Yeah.  You would.  I wouldn't mean it...but you would make me say sorry.

I decided that it was best to send her to bed after that for fear of what else may come along.  I gave her cookies first to soften the lunatic blow that Kanye dealt.  After brushed teeth she padded off to bed.


It wasn't until later that we saw that Beyonce stepped up to the classiness plate and gave her moment on the award stage to Taylor Swift to finish her earlier, rudely interrupted, acceptance speech.  I'm beginning to think that before Momma Knowles taught her girls to flaunt their Destiny Child goodies and began creating that House of Dereon clothing line which would surely require one to have thick skin, she was a purveyor of the very books we read to our own girls. 

It gives me hope that some day...years from now...my kids will be famous well adjusted.  They will have gained millions in cold hard cash life lessons from books, people and situations.  I take comfort that for tonight...in this moment at least one of them has deciphered right from wrong. 

Yes, it took a television show.  Yes, it was about a musician.

But you take your victories where you can get them.  And this is one to go down in the victory column.

Of course tomorrow it will all be washed away as one kicks on the door to the bathroom as the other stands behind it screaming, "well...YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE YOU USED MY STUFF".  When I attempt to ask what the argument is about I get a unanimous, "NOTHING" or "NEVERMIND".  Then the door opens, the sound of a slap echoes down the hallway and it ends with a slammed door.

Time to bust out the damn books again.  I think instead of making them read them over again I am just gonna slap them upside the head and hope that the lessons get in there by osmosis...kind of like that bump ap for iPhones.  We'll call this the "life ap".

If anyone knows how I can get to Kanye I'd be more than willing to put him on my "life ap list".  Think of it like aversion therapy for jacklegs.

You're welcome.


Also...I am willing to add Congressman Joe Wilson (R-SC) to my list.  I think he could use some "life ap" time as well!  It's not nice to call people...especially the President of the US...a liar!  

Just one more way I'm trying to make the world better.  Eliminating negativity...one douchebag at a time!
~JP

Because humiliation is inevitable...I keep liquor on hand at all times.

So I am supposed to be folding laundry.  Like enough laundry for at least 7 households with 4 people in each home.  Where the fuck did we get all these clothes?  Jesus did we just buy new stuff cause I didn't wash the dirty stuff?  I totally think that is what happened.  I mean I remember rushing out and buying socks...oh yeah and underwear...at like midnight because I hadn't done laundry and I didn't feel like sorting, then washing, then re-sorting, then folding, then placing lovingly into piles that my kids and husband would never put away and then dog or cat (back when we had a cat) would lay on said piles or worse pee or puke on them and then the whole vicious cycle would repeat itself and we'd still have no clean socks or underwear.

I do definitely remember buying a few choice items in a manic fit at least a couple hundred times over the past few years...but seriously...this is ALOT of clothes.  It covers my couch. 

It was covering my dinner table and part of my kitchen counter but then I decided to be all "domestic goddess" and cook dinner.  But I couldn't cook dinner without going to the grocery first.  I did that after I decided that moving laundry from kitchen to living room was HUGE improvement.  But then I was like "oh shit I totally won't have all this done before Jon gets home, must create a diversion...oooh, I know...I'll cook".  I figured it was cook or offer up more sexual favors.  I was still kind of tired from the last go around and plus figured I should do something where the kids could benefit too.  I'm so giving that way.

So I went to the grocery and spent WAY too much money for our one income household.  It was all necessary items like fruit, veggies, chicken, pasta, stuff to make lunches, breakfast items, laundry detergent (for when I finally do fold laundry and it inevitably gets dirty again) and wine....yeah, can't forget the wine.  Then I remembered that Jon was going to play poker last night and I scrapped huge dinner that I planned on cooking as a diversion to the huge pile of laundry now taking up residence on out couch and coffee table. 

I decided on just pasta with veggies and chicken.  I'd do some garlic bread too.  It would just be me and the girls, so it would be fine.  Liv had been begging for this pasta for a month now so I knew that she would be happy.  Han's only concern was that there were pea's in it.  I told her to pick them out and she seemed content.

We got home from the grocery and I made Han sit at the newly cleared dinner table to start her homework.  She was more than slightly pissed that her original work space of the coffee table, planted firmly in front of flat panel t.v. was not up for use.  I reminded her that homework time was for homework and NOT getting caught up on all that has occured on Disney Channel for the last 8 hours that she hasn't been watching it.  She rolled he eyes in that over exagerated way of tweens these days and I'm pretty sure that she silently flipped me the bird from behind her backpack.

I mean I can't prove that she did that.  But then again I can't disprove that she didn't do it either.  I could have just asked her and been all "what are you doing with your hands behind your backpack"? And then she would have been "nothing...gawd...I didn't do anything".  And I would be all "did you just shoot me the bird?"  And she would totally shoot back "no-ah...gawd...why are you so paranoid?  Why do you think everyone is out to get you?  Why are you busy wasting time trying to figure out what I was doing behind my backpack when you could have folded some damn laundry?"

It really was best that I just let it go.

I set to putting away the groceries and Han set to talking up a storm.  I know where she gets it from and God do I wish that I could PLEASE stop being punished for all the times I literally set my mothers ears to bleeding from all the chattering I did.  I swear she has a quota of words that she is determined to meet on any given day and she won't stop until she hits it.  I'm not sure what that number is but when I find the fucking dial I am turning it down to a 3 digit number.

In between cleaning and putting away groceries I kept having to say "Hannah homework"....literally every 15 minutes was marked by that phrase.  Then came the homework related questions.

Hannah:  Mom, are you good at social studies?

Me: Depends.  What do you need to know?

Hannah: It's questions about the government and the Constitution.

Me:  Hmm....you can try me.  If I don't know we can just wait for your dad to get home.

Hannah:  Well are you good at math?

Me: Depends.  What do you need to know?

Hannah:  Are you good at anything?

Me:  Well, I'm making you dinner.  So yeah...I am good at that.

Hannah: This is the first time you've made dinner in awhile.

Me:  Hannah...do your homework.

When Jon got home I put him on homework duty.  They knocked it out before he left for cards.  I knocked out a bottle of wine shortly thereafter. 

I later got a text from a girlfriend of mine regarding dance team tryouts that both her daughter and Hannah will be attending this afternoon.  It had to do with the FAME forms that Hannah was so desperate to have me fill out but then left on the couch.  In the packet they requested a copy of the first 9 weeks grades.  That's all fine and great....only 1 teeny tiny problem...the kids have only been in school for 4 maybe 5 weeks.  Jacklegs.  How can we give you something we don't have??

She was just as confused as I was about it.  I told her that given the fact that they are the school and they should know that we can't possibly have this that I am sending the packet without it.  I swear if there is a problem because that is missing I am totally pulling my kid out of public school and putting her in private.  If I have to pay $10,000 a year so that the school can use common sense then so be it.  I mean...really book smarts you can learn but common sense...that shit is priceless!

By the end of the night I was drowning my sorrows of possibly being stupider than my 5th grader yet smarter than the public school she attended.  It was a bittersweet revelation.  All I could do was sit back and watch the Jon Gosselin interview on Pritime Family Secrets.  It made me laugh that it was on a show with the words "family" and "secrets" in the same sentence since outside of knowing what color underwear him or Kate are wearing that day we, as a viewing public, are pretty keen on what these two train wrecks are up to at any given moment.

I just can't feel sorry for the guy.  I can't feel sorry for Kate either.  I did however realize that in one of the clips that they played of him and her in a toy store from a few years back that I TOTALLY talk to my own Jon that way.  At times.  I vowed to stop that behavior immediately and then toasted my new found change with a shot of Firefly sweet tea vodka.

Apparently...though....I toasted one too many times cause when my Jon came home a few hours later and hadn't brought the promised McFlurry from a text he'd sent me, I went off.  Kate Gosselin style.  It was "Jon & Jess plus 2" in my bedroom.  Thankfully I fell asleep a few minutes into the tirade.  Not so good for the husbands ego, but at least we didn't have camera's, witnesses or our children involved. 

I did have to swallow my pride, choke down the dry mouth sensation that follows any night of ill fated shots and apologize.  He forgave me and thank god for that....I mean, I'm pretty sure Hannah is gonna have way more homework tonight and I just can't bare to be humiliated two nights in a row.  I don't know if I have enough liquor for that.

~JP

Failure is only kid deep....

So the 3 day weekend is over for you working folk.  For me...it's just a continuation...cause I no worky!  But I must say I was very proud of myself because when the alarm clock that husband clearly forgot to set didn't go off this morning to alert the hubby that he needed to go out and earn a good day's pay I was the conquering hero that got him up and out the door on time.  Yea me!!  Then I continued the fabulous streak by downing a cup of coffee and filling out FAME forms only to realize that tween left them on corner of sofa instead of putting them in backpack to tote off to school as whined about night prior when she realized we (meaning both hubbster and I were shitty parents) hadn't taken the time to lovingly fill them out the moment we received them on Friday even though school was out until today.  But whatever! 

Apparently we will be solely responsible for the downfall of her extra curricular activities and her social ranking in the cut throat society of 5th graders the world over.  God...we are SO irresponsible!

But I am not gonna take the hit for the fact that she forgot this paperwork.  I will totally take the blame for corrupting her morals or abandoning her in order to watch a weeks worth of Young & the Restless that has been stored in my DVR, but I draw the line at remembering to staple aforementioned dance team try-out form to her forehead so she doesn't forget them.  And...by the way...if I "had" stapled the form to her head...I would have been accused of child abuse, so really I did her a favor by allowing her to forget the forms. 

But outside of the form mishap, the day is going surprisingly well.  Probably has a lot to do with the good time we had on Sunday.  We took a little "daycation" (if this word hasn't been coined yet...I am totally claiming it...I have a flag and everything) to the Mississippi Gulf Coast.  It was a little gloomy but we really had fun. 

The gloom was probably a good thing seeing as my skin hasn't seen the light of day in like 3 months.  If I had been exposed to a sun drenched day I may have combusted entirely.  The girls, more so Han because Liv in her total teen angst refuses to show extreme excitement over anything, seemed suprised that we would take them to the beach.  We've lived here for over 6 years and this is our first time going to the coast to actually go to the beach for the day.


After making the little over 30 minute drive we settled on a long stretch of sandy beach in Long Beach, Mississippi.  Sure it's not the bluish green glory that we are used to from our days of living in Clearwater, Florida but who cares, we shrug off our clothes and drop our bags and towels before heading down to the water.

There were chaise lounges with umbrellas for rent, but we're cheap so when we found one that looked completely dilapidated and without a red "for rental" sign, we decided that this sad little Charlie Brown Christmas tree of a chaise was perfect for us to park our gear.  Before we could be chased down by the chaise nazi's we hauled tush for the water.

With the way the weather looked the girls thought the water might be cold.  They don't seem to realize that the Gulf tends to always be balmy like that area of the pool that your little cousin tends to piss in and then swim quickly away from.  My immediate anxiety approached at the fact that here you can't see beneath the waters surface at all.  Not even at the shoreline.  Don't get me wrong...I love to swim.  It's probably my most favorite outdoor activity.  What I don't like is the scarey world that I imagine lays lurking just underneath the surface.  It's not even a fear of big things like sharks.  It's the way the sand is all squishy.  It creeps me out.  I don't know why but it erks me beyond belief.  I'm a consistency girl....squishy things...I no likey!  So within moments of crashing through the whitecapped surf I was clinging to Jon in hopes of using him to hold me up until we were deep enough where my feet would no longer touch the sand.

Immediately Jon was laughing hysterically at me.  He kept saying he didn't understand what my problem was because he had never seen me act like this.  I tried to think of the times that we may have possibly been to the beach together and I was coming up blank.  He came out with our trip to Mexico.  I was like...uh, of course I didn't act like this in Mexico.  I was drunk when we were in Mexico.  Tequila trumps fear of squishy sand!  God...what a jackleg!  Jaws could have come and drug me under and I wouldn't have given a flying shit because I was wasted.

So each time I squealed he would erupt in a fit of laughter.

Jon: Babe why are you squealing like that?

Me: Ewwww....cause I don't like the sand.

Jon: Seriously?

Me: Yeah.  Seriously.

Jon: Okay you can't lean on me like that I am gonna drown. (head begins to slide under surface as waves crash around us)

Me: Stop moving away from me. (grasping at his neck like a drowning woman)

Jon: Girls.  GIRLS...look at your mom, she's freaking out because she doesn't like the sand. Hahahahahaha.....

Hannah: Mom.  Seriously?  You're scared of the water?

Me: No I am not scared of the water.  I like the water.  I don't however, like the sand.  It's squishy.  I don't like squishy.

Hannah:  So does this freak you out. (brushes by me with her hand to mimic a fish)

Me: No...but stop doing it anyways.

Hannah: Really???  (brushes a foot by me)

Me: Hannah, I mean it stop.

Olivia: What about this?  (comes at me from the other direction brushing lightly against me under the water)

Me:  I mean it.  Stop it.  Both of you.

Jon: (still laughing and clearly not helping)

Me: (seriously pissed off...gets up and makes my way out of the water braving squishy sand and secretly hating family)

I sit gingerly on the Charlie Brown Christmas tree of a chaise and start drying off.  I'm mid sand brush off when the chaise nazi comes to ask, "do you plan on renting that".  Still out of breath from my quick jaunt out of the gulf I am not in the mood to come up with a witty quip to answer this completely ridiculous question so I instead nod my head no and start to move our stuff.  Unfortunately, it is so friggin windy that I am unable to actually lay out our beach blanket in a neat fashion and instead end up sitting on a crumpled up clothes pile looking situation. 

About 20 minutes later husband and both kids come trailing out of the water.  Both children have been stung by something in the water.  I look up at the sky and know that God has punished both of my  children for being spiteful to my sand fear and I silently promise to give to one of those charities that keeps calling my house as a sign of appreciation.

After tending to their little welts and assessing that they are not jellyfish stings therefore negating the personal humiliation that would have come with their parents peeing on them and being thankful that I didn't have to make my bladder perform on command we decide to pack up and head on down the coast.  This decision came with a pout fest from Han who had her heart set on renting a jet ski.  I was like...ummm, I don't think so...those freaks want $45 for 1/2hr and they can't promise flying fish like when we were in Mexico...no thank you!  She didn't see that as a draw back and continued her cry fest for a good 15 minutes. 

We began driving as she continued pouting.  A sign in the distance that boasted a "Hurricane Katrina Clearance Sale" definitely got our curiosity peaked.  The fact that they sold fudge was all Jon needed to make a u-turn and pull in for a look see.  Hannah found a new thing to whine about with hermit crabs.  She hung by the tank while the rest of us spent time looking around the store.  There wasn't really anything special about the touristy shop and nothing that had anything to do with the storm, which was fine by me especially since I think I am definitely among the masses of people that would love to wipe the images seared into my memory about the days, weeks, months and years now following the aftermath.

Bumming around like tourist can make one pretty hungry.  Liv had a request of chicken fingers.  Big shocker there.  We saw a Hooters in the distance and since Jon was soley responsible for planning this day I felt it only fitting that he should get his favorite chicken wings (and it met the chicken finger request) as a reward.  Han launched another whine fest and all I could think was "I NEED A DRINK"! 

Once inside she calmed down when she realized that she liked the chicken.  Well hallefrickinlujah!  Wouldn't want to put the little princess out or anything.  Ugh...kids!  Once the moping was done then came the questions.

Hannah: I don't get why they call this place Hooters.

Me: (trying desperately to NOT have to have this conversation) So do you want chicken wings or chicken fingers?

Hannah: No really, like, umm....like why do they call it Hooters?

Me: Do you want mozzarella sticks?  Or maybe a salad?  You want a salad?

Hannah:  Okay, like..umm, like there is an owl on the menu and, but...umm...what does that have to do with chicken?

Me: Daddy asked if you want to try the cajun seasoning, do you want to try it?

Hannah:  So why do the o's look so funny on the menu?

Me:  Huh?  It's really loud in here...did you say something?  Where is the waitress?  I need a drink.

Hannah:  Ummm, mom...so why DO they call it Hooters?  And why are all the girls in the pictures in bathing suits or tight shirts?

Me: OMG...where is the waitress??  I REALLY need a drink?

Hannah:  Are you gonna get alcohol?  I don't think you should do that.

Me:  Jon you want to explain to your daughter why the place is called Hooters?  Do you want to help me out here?

Jon:  So do you want to get 20 or 50 wings?

Me:  You're NOT helping me.

Jon:  What?? What am I doing?

Hannah:  Mom that drink looks like a smoothie.  Can I have some?  Are you gonna tell me what Hooters means?

Olivia: Can I have your lime?

Me: Seriously.  Jon...help me out here. 

Jon:  What?  What do you need?

Hannah:  Does that drink have alcohol in it?  Cause you just gave Olivia the lime.  Why didn't you give me the lime?  If it's got alcohol in it you shouldn't have given Olivia the lime.  If it doesn't have alcohol in it then why can't I have half the lime.  I want a lime.

Me: Seriously...Jon...help me out here (slurping longily on the straw...wishing that the alcohol would be infused directly into my veins)...JON!

Hannah:  So can I have a sip?  Can you get another lime?  I really want a lime too.

Jon:  What?  What??

Hannah:  Mom are you listening to me...is there alcohol in there?  Can you get another lime?  I really, really, REALLY want a lime...mom...mom.  Mom??  Mother are you listening to me??

Me:  Hooter's are boobs!  There are no other limes.  (flagging down waitress) I'm gonna need another shot of rum in this drink ASAP!

After dinner it was time to head home.  The skies were turning dark with night and more rain approaching.  We drove along the coast line before making our way back inland.  Olivia announced that she REALLY needed to use the restroom so Jon found a gas station.

We all piled out of the vehicle and made our way into the gas station.  Both girls were doing the pee pee dance so Jon scoped out the mens bathroom which was just a single room with a door much like the ladies room.  I ushered Han in there and Liv took the ladies room.  Jon and I were on door duty.  Seconds turned to minutes and then the smell came.

I didn't know which child was responsible but was mildly impressed by the fact that either of them could create that much of a stink, so to speak.  I knocked on the ladies room door and asked Liv if she was okay, because I needed to pee.  She opened the door and I made my way in.  My daughter...in all her brillance, couldn't figure out how to get the paper towel dispenser to work.  I stiffled laughter as I used the bathroom.  Right in my line of sight was what looked like a femine product dispenser but on closer inspection was actually a condom dispenser.  This time I couldn't hold back the laughs as I realized she was following my gaze.

Olivia:  What does that say?

Me: Ummm...I think it says erotic. (trying to maintain calm...I've just survived explaining Hooters to my 9 1/2 year old and now I'm face to face with condoms with my 15 year old...waitress...waitress...where the fuck is a drink when you DEFINITELY need one)

Olivia:  Does erotic mean what I think it means??

Me:  Yes.  Yes it does.  (I don't really know what her mind has decided it should mean, but anything will be better than what I have to make up and deliver at this moment)

Both of us erupt in laughter at the shear embarassment of the situation.  As we make our way out of the bathroom Jon looks puzzled about what could be so funny about being in a bathroom together.  I just shake my head, unwilling to revisit the conversation.

Pulling out of the gas station witty banter ensues between Jon and I.

Jon:  Man that light only lasted about 3 seconds long.

Me: Hmm...must be a man.

Jon:  Oh you're funny.

Me:  I know.

Back at home the rain is coming down in buckets and we are cozied up on the couch watching a DVD and I am sipping on Firefly Sweet Tea vodka.  If you haven't tried it...run out right now...right this very instance and buy it!  It is soooooooooooo good.  I honestly thought that between the beach, a little sun (between the gloomy clouds) and the fact that I had actually been up early on Sunday would find me able to fall asleep but it was a no go.

Monday came around and of course I slept way beyond the original wake up call of 11am that Jon attempted to enforce.  He let me sleep in.  I really must try not to be horrible to this man because more times than not he gives in and lets me sleep without major bitching sessions.  Yeah, like that is gonna happen.

When I ginally did make it out of bed we sat and watched DVD's.  Then it was time to clean.  I HATE cleaning.  I helped Jon gather up some laundry to be washed and found myself exhausted.  Not really, it was more like adult ADD...I just can't stay focused when it comes to cleaning.  Jon asked if I wanted to take the kitchen or the bedroom.  I picked bedroom.  It meant I could hide out and use my laptop.  Seriously...I had MAJOR farming to do on facebook, so the cleaning was just gonna have to wait.  It's all about priorities people. 

Two hours later...and my farm had been plowed, planted and expanded I realized that I had absolutely nothing, in the way of cleaning, to show for my time cloistered in the bedroom.  Quick thinking and feeling slightly buzzed from the 1 1/2 drinks I had consumed during my "cleaning" time made me realize that I had only one option.  I went out and made a deal with the husband.  I totally prostituted myself out.  I figured trading sex for a pass on cleaning was a win win situation for all.  Well everyone except our house and our laundry.  I did however make sure my kids and the husband had clean clothes for the next day before making the deal, which I think is really responsible on my part.  It's called being a good wife and mother.  You're welcome family!

Thankfully my husband still finds me wildly attractive and was totally on board with my offer.  I'll spare you all the intimate details save for the fact that once it was all said and done I found myself quoting a Disney movie to commentate just how good it was.  So sad...so very, very sad.  The only thing that eclipses using a line from the Incredibles to describe a passionate exchange is the time that Jon and I had a night out by ourselves after Hannah was born and we drove for 30 minutes listening and singing along with the CD for Bear in the Big Blue House.  The worse part of that moment was when we realized we were listening and singing along was when we wouldn't turn it off until we could play our favorite song "Otter Love".  Ah huh..."otter love...just can't get enough of that otter love"...oh yeah...mood setter.

The long weekend ended on a great note for us and I even got a full 6 1/2 hours of sleep.  Thank you liquor and post coital bliss!!  Must have been really good because the hubby forgot to set the alarm.  I don't know how I was the one to wake up unassisted, but I did. 

After the debacle with "letting" Hannah forget her FAME forms I was hell bent on being a better mother to the other kid.  I made sure I asked if she had all her stuff for the impending school day.  She just looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language.  Apparently the cup of coffee I made her hadn't seeped into her brain yet.  For those that wonder why I not only allow my child to drink coffee but I actually make it for her...well it comes down to the pure and simple fact that she's 15 and about 1/4 of inch shorter than me.  I'm hoping that plying her with mass amounts of caffeine will stunt her growth thus allowing me to still be able to say to her "watch it little girl...I'm your mother and I'm bigger than you"...if I don't stunt her now...I will lose that....FOREVER.  Probably should have thought of this before mating with a guy that was well over 6 foot at age 16.  Ugh...I suck at thinking ahead!

As we made our way out to the car to head to the school Olivia announced that she had made a mixed CD for the morning drives to school. 

Me: What is that?

Olivia:  A mixed CD.

Me:  Hmmm...okay...why?

Olivia:  Well cause your music kinda sucks.

Another failure and it wasn't even 8:30am. Apparently I can't manage to make sure my kids take forms to school or pick out appropriate music to play while carting their asses everywhere and anywhere.  Just when I thought I had accomplished something and started to make strides towards becoming a better person I am brought back down to the reality of my inability to do the simplest of things.  Thanks kids...thanks so much for making mommy want to curl up in the fetal position and cry while watching mass amounts of Lifetime "Not Without My Daughter Who is a Street-walking Drug Dealing Baby Stealer" movie which is the only thing that makes me realize I haven't sunk to the depths of hell....yet.

But I can't go into coma mode...I have to clean.  Apparently sexual favors can only buy you a day off from domestic servitude *sigh*....if only I still had the body of a 20 year old...I'd never have to clean again!  Thanks again kids...for totally fucking up my life!

~JP

I'm hoping the rest of the day turns out more interesting than this post...

It's Sunday....yeah, I know....pointing out the obvious.  Yesterday was...well...it was crap.  Stayed up all night Friday being completely pissed at the husband.  For what I am not completely sure of at this point.

Then I accused him of giving me poisoned ice cream because I had been bitchy.  He say's he didn't.  Turns out he is probably right.  It seems that my body does not like Hagaan Daaz Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream as much as I'd like it to and so I spent the better part of Friday evening and into the early hours Saturday vomiting and in extreme gutteral pain.  Apparently my body staged a revolt when it read "15 Worst Desserts" and realized that it was consuming #14 on the list.


I spent a good part of the day Saturday feeling guilty for A) being mean to Jon and B) consuming more than a days worth of calories in just under 1 hour the night before with that damn ice cream that then acted as if it were an alien trying to escape from my intestines.  I did manage to pull myself together long enough to go and get Hannah from her sleepover.  She had a blast and this made me realize that I am most likely next up on the list to host the tweens at my house.

It is only 20 days until my little one turns the big 1-0!!  I can't believe it.  I came back to the house and immediately climbed back into my bed and contemplated how I could possibly get out of having a slumber party. That thought train was derailed when I began to have an immense stabbing pain in my left boob.

It wasn't the ungodly chest pain that I had been having a couple months ago that led me to be hospitalized and then diagnosed with costochondritis which left me homebound for over a month.  No this was clearly just in my left breast.

When Jon came home from work I told him that I was having boob pain.  The teenage boy in him shown in his eyes as I could see that he thought he could just "massage" away the pain.  I instead opted for a heating pad and then an ice pack.  I of course turned to my trusty WebMD because I was sure it would tell me that I was dying.

Apparently I was wrong and it turns out this kind of thing is actually common in women between the ages of 30 to 45.  Really??  I swear whoever said that it was a beautiful thing to be a woman was clearly a man.

The more I tried to relax and not think about the increasing stabby pain in my boob the more it hurt.  Finally I gave up and went to sleep.  I woke up twice in the middle of the night thinking that my breast was on fire.  That is how bad the pain was.

This morning it is still pretty bad.  It only hurts REALLY bad when Penny decides to use it as a trampoline which surprisingly is ALOT.  Jon has stopped eyeing it as if he has the "magical" touch that could surely make all it's ailments go away.

We are trying to head to the beach to spend some family time.  Of course this means we have to wait for the teenager to come home.  I'm thinking this detail alone will mean that we will be spending our day here instead of on some beach.  Trying to do anything that requires waiting on Liv's schedule is like planning your day around me waking up at a decent hour.  It ain't gonna happen so just stop waiting for it.

I actually woke up early and was rewarded with Mc Donald's breakfast.  This made Penny very happy.  I am beginning to realize that with my kids getting older I am totally gonna turn into one of those weird woman that thinks her pet is her baby.  This point was driven home while we drove the 1.5 miles to the Mc Donald's and I had a pretty detailed conversation with my dog about what she would like to eat.

When we got to the drive thru I had to stiffle that laughter over the jackleg that they had running the intercom where you order.  You couldn't understand the words that he was saying.  Jon ordered and the guy was supposedly repeating the order back to us and we had to have him repeat it twice.  You couldn't understand a word of what he said.  It was ridiculous.

Then when we pulled around to pay, the guy that took our money could be understood clear as a bell.  Ummmm....hello...why the hell wouldn't you let him be on the intercom??  Very sad Mc Donald's...very, very sad.

Penny of course got everyone's attention.  At least no one called her a chihuahua this time.  Not that she cares mind you.  As long as there is a biscuit in it for her you can call her whatever breed of dog you want.  She spent the short drive home shaking in anticipation of whatever treat was going to be bestowed upon her.

Hannah gave her some pancake and she got biscuit, sausage and egg from me.  Jon gave her nothing...he's so selfish.  After eating all I wanted to do was come and lay back in bed.  I decided to come back and write for a little bit.

Outside of posting "Penny's Thoughts of the Day" I haven't been writing much.  Not feeling very inspired or funny lately.  That worries me a little.  I am usually able to laugh my way through just about anything...but lately it seems harder than usual.

After I post this I think I will check the classifieds.  Still hoping to find a job.  Really needing to go back to work.  It will help me feel a little less useless.  September is a hard, hard month for me.  It's when everything fell apart 3 years ago.  Trying to motivate myself during this time period is almost impossible.

Jon just came in to say that he will be picking up Olivia in a little while so I guess that I will put off the job search until tomorrow or Tuesday and instead go and get stuff ready to get out of the house for a little while.  I'm hoping that getting a little sun and spending the day with Jon and the girls will turn my mood around or at least take my mind off my stabby boob pain.  It's friggin aggrivating!

Hope everyone has a fun and safe Labor Day.

~JP

Well I guess I can cross manager of future strippers off my list of things to do in life...

I really am trying to be positive and upbeat about the whole looking for a job thing.

Probably one of the only things that I am attempting to be upbeat about.

It's hard people. It's really fucking hard.

I'm getting REALLY tired of revising my resume.

I've dumbed it down about as much as I can, which (scratching my head in complete exsasperation) apparently has helped tremendously because instead of never hearing from the perspective employers that I send them out to I've actually gotten some responses.

Applause, applause, applause...yeah NOT SO MUCH!

The first response I got was from a pediatric practice.  The kiss off came as a result of me "expecting too much money."

Ummm, I don't think so jackasses. If you've been running your add for close to a month and just now had to run a new ad putting a specific salary cap on the job your trying to have filled then maybe it is YOU that has the problem.

Quality cost money people.

Also...just a little FYI...maybe if you had someone actually, oh, I don't know...interview the perspective new hire instead of using an oogy "head shot" and relying on job application that asks what your applicable hobbies are in regard to said position...then you deserve the under $9.00 hour crowd that are gonna come-a-flocking.

Jacklegs.

Next up was a voice mail. Yes, you read that right..a voicemail.

It get's better. It wasn't even a human speaking. It was an automated and not even friendly sounding computeresque woman the glibly advised me that "while we appreciate your interest in our firm after careful consideration we realize that you are over qualified for the position requested."

Wow...that one came out of left field. I've never been advised by something that closely resembles what I dream to be the wife of Mr. Moviephone that I am to over qualified for a job.

It then went on to ask me if I would like "the firm to keep my resume on file for future openings". I thought it was an okay idea..even if I didn't agree with their approach at notifying applicants I was at least grateful that I had gotten a phone call so I could cross this one off my list.

The automated voice told me to "select option #2 to save resume". I pressed the selection and it told me rather rudely, "option failed". I tried a few more (like 4) times and finally gave up after it seemed that the statement of "option failed" began to sound more and more hostile with each attempt.

It made me wonder how do they handle the ones that aren't qualified? Do they just send them back their resume's with the word FAIL written across it in red Sharpie??

Major jacklegs.

I tried really hard not to take either of those too personally and really just laughed it off. I was drunk with confidence over the fact that I had what I privately deemed to be the perfect position in mind.

It was as an Office Manager for a local dance studio. It would marry my loves of bossiness, creating memo's and dance!

Hi I'm Jessica. And you must be perfection.

This place had four things that I REALLY wanted which were:

A) the job is located less than a minute from home - I wouldn't even have to travel on any major roads to get to it

B) it was part time - it would allow me to enroll in school come the new year and not have to worry about shuffling a school and work schedule

C) it had the same holiday schedule as my kids school...no worries for childcare come summer when Liv went to spend the summer with her dad inevitably leaving Jon and I to scramble for childcare for Han.

D) it started after the kids left for school in the morning and finished before they got out each day - plus it was only 4 days a week just like my lovely dental practice job

Honestly when I sent out my resume via email as it instructed I could almost see God winking in complete approval. Ok...actually it was Penny but I'm sure somewhere...up there...the big guy was like "you go girl"!

My children had taken lessons from this place previously so I was familiar with the owner. They enjoyed the instructors and the classes but after two years we decided to leave and go somewhere else due to the failure in the management aspect.

Well there was that and the fact that with each year they attended the recital costumes tended to get skimpier and skimpier. Let me just say that when my husband went to pick up Han's tap costume for "Whistle While You Work" from Snow White he nearly had a stroke. He thought the song was descriptive of the hoochie momma bikini top and let's just sew together the smallest swatches of fabric we can possibly get away with and call it a skirt ensemble.

Han was 4 at the time of that recital. We took NO pictures that year for fear that when they went to be developed we would be hauled in for kiddie porn.

The fact that I had seen the bottom of the barrel in regards to office help that the owner had in the past I figured my experience would bring a level of professionalism to the table. I felt as though I had this one in the bag.

The only draw back would be having to take a pay cut but the benefits to this position FAR outweighed the downside of the money.

It was brutally crushing to get the last and most recent kiss off. It came in the form of a "thanks but the positions been filled" email.

Email? Really?

The email was sent at 3:45 p.m. on Saturday.

ON SATURDAY!!

Who the hell decides that they don't want to hire someone and then alerts them...via email...in the middle of the day on a fucking Saturday?? Way to kill the weekend for me.

Then as if that wasn't enough the email went on to ask me if I "know of anyone that would like to apply for an instructor position please forward this email address so that they can contact our studio".

Umm..hello?? You just hired a fucking Office Manager...make them find you an instructor...don't burden the person you just turned down!

Final dagger to the heart regarding this job is that the classified ad is still in the paper for the exact position that I was passed over for.

I'm hoping that it's because she had previously paid for a certain amount of time for the ad to be run because seriously if this woman lied to me about the position being filled I may just hang myself in the shower. If I can't cut it at a dance studio that may possibly turn out the next wave of strippers to entertain the tourist down on Bourbon Street and it was deemed that I wasn't experienced enough to handle that level of greatness...well, there just aren't words to describe the deep hole of blackness that I will sink into.

Biggest jackleg yet!

The level of professionalism that I am used to having is completely lost on today's hiring society. I mean come on people. Seriously?

Seriously??

SERIOUSLY...WTF??

Today is a new day. I've brewed a fresh pot of coffee and got back to the business of job hunting.

Looked over the resume again.

Resisted the urge to take out any words that have more than 2 syllables in the hopes that I can fool someone into thinking I'm a complete idiot and therefore a perfect candidate to be hired.

I will be hot on the trail of 15 more ad's that I pulled from the classifieds yesterday.

Given the first 3 responses that I've gotten after a month of looking I'm both scared and slightly intrigued about what else may lay ahead.

Stay tuned.

~JP

Is this Plan B?? Oh god...

When it became increasingly apparent, as I hacked up a lung while sitting on the toilet...because alas motherhood makes you have a leaky bladder when your coughing hard enough to dislodge an organ...that Jon was going to TOTALLY shirk his parental responsibility of taking the kids to school in lieu of going to work in order to make money to support the kids he was unwilling to take to school I felt it best to hatch a back-up plan.  

First thought was to let the teenager who has had 3 (count them 1...2...3) driving lessons and doesn't even possess a learners permit to drive her younger sister to school and then drive herself.  Of course she would be supervised.  I'm not totally irresponsible.  I would be in the car...hopped up on NyQuil and no sleep.

I realized that was a TOTALLY ridiculous idea.

See, I'm not a total loon here.  I figured letting Penny (yes, the dog) drive was a MUCH better idea.

 

Penny is very responsible.  Looking both ways before nearly running over the jackleg students that walk in front of us in the carpool line.  

Hello...you obviously aren't that smart if you are willing to walk in front of a woman under the influence of cold meds who has determined that it is safer to let her dog drive.  Thank god for your sorry asses that my dog is super smart and cares that you live.

After dropping off both the kids Penny had one thing on her mind.......

Of course she really didn't think McDonald's would be this damn busy at 8:45 a.m. on a Wednesday!  Come on...is the economy so bad that NO ONE has a job!  Seriously it can't be that bad because They have the money to get their grub on!  I just want a sweet tea....I'm dying here...I'm coughing up other organs that I am pretty sure I may need later.  Oh, yeah...and Penny wants a biscuit!

Finally...I got my tea...Penny got her biscuit (seen above licking her snout) and we can head home and go to bed like NyQuil intends us to do.  

Thankfully neither of us has to be responsible again until 2:45 p.m.

~JP

Thank you Jonas Brothers....and Goodnight!

It is now "Jonas Brother...the Day After". I can still here a persistent ringing in my ears, sounds seem muffled and when I shut my eyes I have a mini laser light show going on the backs of my eyelids. But all that aside, here's how the concert went:

Let me start by saying...if you've ever wondered to yourself or aloud exactly how many people you can fit into a stretch limousine? I would like to be the one to tell you that you can mash 4 adults, 5 teenagers, 4 tweens, one little boy and still have room for posters, purses, jackets, 12 pack of soda and some (but not nearly enough) liquor.

The Mother's (take note of the red bag that hold the "Jonas Brother Survival Kit")

Teens, Tweens & little one ~ View from outside.....

....and view from within.

It helped that we had one hell of a limo driver who took it all in stride and immediately apologized for removing the bourbon from the bar because he "thought we'd wanna keep it clean with the kids and all"...ugh Tom...there goes part of your tip sweetie. Prolly would've been bigger if ya got us a little tipsy on the way home or dropped the adults in the French Quarter and returned the kids to the address we would've scrawled out on a piece of paper with a note to our other halves that would have read:

Here's the kids. We've gone drinking. Send the limo back for us if you want us to come home.
~ The Mother's

But now I am jumping ahead of myself...and that French Quarter part is gonna be for another night and another blog entirely. So back to Jonas.

For those of us NOT in the Jonas know (which turned out to really only be myself and one other mom) we got the 4-1-1 on how the show was gonna go down from start to finish from the self proclaimed biggest Jonas Fan herself Brittany, her mom Stacy and one of Han's besties Kenzie.

Biggest Jonas Fan ~ (Her glasses say Brittany Jonas...nuff said!)

They had just arrived back in Louisiana the morning of the New Orleans show after seeing the Jo Bro's play in Houston, TX. That's a whole other state ya'll and WAY too far for a devoted mom (stop laughing) like myself to drive my kids to see anything.

How this mother was awake let alone upwardly mobile was beyond me. She credits energy drinks...I say it's the adrenaline produced by pure insanity...you decide.

The ride into the city wasn't bad at all with the exception that we packed more caffeine than liquor and with individuals under 18 out numbering those of us of the parental persuasion by a little more than 1/2 we wondered what genius thought that equation was a good idea. But before we really had time to contemplate our error we were piling out as if we were the clown car at a circus. Even the limo driver commented that he didn't remember this many getting in.

(Nina & Han strike a pose outside the arena)

Once at the arena it was time to divvy up tickets and set up a meeting spot. Since I was late coming into the concert prep I had tickets that were split between two different sections. There was 1 that was on one side of the arena and 2 that were on the opposite side. All 14 of us were not going to be sitting together.

On the ride over we had worked out a solution that would hopefully allow everyone to have the most optimal and enjoyable "Jonas Experience" possible.

It broke down as follows. Biggest Jonas fan Brittany with her baby sis Kenzie had floor seats. My oldest Liv, and my good friend Mar's oldest daughter Courtney, who have been friend since meeting in 3rd grade, would be in another section...alone.

(Liv & Court...ready to take on Jonas unsupervised...mother's lock up your sons!)

The shear thought of those two teens on the loose made us both REALLY want to drink. Six tickets were together and belonged to my other good friend, Stacy (the mother that had driven to Texas and back all in the span of 17 hours), her sister Kori, two of Kori's kids, a cousin and her boyfriend. How that poor boy managed to pick the short straw that entailed seeing a boy band with his girlfriend is still beyond me.

The final 4 tickets were left to Mar, myself and our two tween-agers, Han and Carolina, who were there to experience their first ever concert.

The tears started streaming from Nina before we even made it to our seats. Mar and I joked back and forth wondering if we should have given her an "M&M" (our code for Xanax) before getting there.

(This is a pose that Mar & I struck prior to one of our first Kenny Chesney concerts together so we made the girls do the same. And yes...Nina, on the right, is crying.)

We finally made it to our seats after being stopped by an arena attendant that worried if Nina was really okay and had to deal with the looks of several other concert goers around us that questioned if she truly was alright. Mar and I contemplated if we should have passed up the Southern Comfort tent so quickly earlier when we were looking for a restroom and our seats.

(Me & Han posing with our tickets)

We assured everyone around us and ourselves that they she was fine and settled in for the show. We were disappointed to find out when we heard on the ride over that Jordin Sparks would not be performing due to illness. There was a crowd warmer that came out in between acts and asked the tens of thousands of fans in the arena to send her well wishes with a group effort of shouting "Get Well Jordin".

With no Jordin Sparks, who I have to admit I was dissapointed that I wouldn't be seeing since I actually knew more of her songs than the Jo Bro's we saw Honor Society and the Wonder Girls. If you are anything like me then you are going..."Huh??? What??? Who???"

Honor Society from a mothers perspective of not knowing who the hell these people are and why are they deserving of a portion of the $90 per ticket I just spent to come to this show....were actually pretty good if you're willing to take the word of a thirty-something, SUV driving soccer mom.

The Wonder Girls...I wish I would have snapped a picture....reminded me of a BAD talent/dance recital. The only part I was thankful for in regards to their performance is that they only sang two songs.

In between both opening acts while they were preparing the stage there was a jumbo tron that played text messages sent by fans in the arena. I was able to get one posted that read.

Hannah & Carolina here to see their first concert ever.

Unfortunately I wasn't quick enough with the camera to capture it.

(View from the top...it was PACKED and HOT)

They were so excited that they got to be "famous" for a few seconds that they made me spend every break in between performances texting madly to try and get another message on that damn screen...it didn't happen. Damn kids...you give them a text and they expect the whole show to be about them!

I was trying to amuse myself as best possible during and in between the opening acts and I found it personally hysterical (based on pre-concert post) that a little girl sitting directly in front of us had the EXACT same hairstyle as Han.

I pointed it out to Han and she looked at me like...ugh...I told you I knew what I was talking about!

And then it was time for the boys that we, meaning the kids, had been waiting for. More tears came.....

and tiny hinney's moved to their edge of their seats....

The lights went down....the lasers came up....

....and they appear to the screams of..."OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU", "NIIIIIIICK", "JOOOOOOE", "KEEEEEEEVIN", "MARRY ME", "WEEEEEELOOOOOOVEYOU", "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD", "KILL ME NOW". Okay...that last one was the sound of the voices in my head...but I am sure you get the point.

And once again....Nina was in tears......

The Jonas Brother's took the stage to the defeaning screams of tens of thousands of hormonal bodies! It was so loud that the sound vibrated through you. We were seated in front of and next to two of the highest pitch squealers that I think I've ever had the displeasure of hearing. At one point I wondered if my eardrum had perforated or burst. Unfortunately it didn't and the ear raping went on for 2 1/2 full hours. Here's what it looked like...because I like you enough NOT to post the two video clips I took.

The outer part of the circle rotated like a record. I waited for someone to fall...it didn't happen.

I found out pretty early on that Han doesn't like loud screaming. She kept looking over her shoulder at the girls behind us and then looking at me like, "mom...aren't you gonna make them stop?" I had to keep telling her that this is a concert and unfortunately we would have to tolerate the jacklegs sitting around us. She looked very unimpressed with my perceived unwillingness to make them shut the fuck up. So she spent a good portion of the concert with her fingers in her ears. So did I. It was like a mother daughter thing.

And the concert continued. Song after song.....

When Nick Jonas came on stage with just his piano and sang "Black Keys" and talked about diabetes you could almost hear the wave of girls crying. He has a line where he says, "and I asked the doctor would I die?" I swear to you it was as if someone got up on that stage and held a gun to the kids head. All around us were fans sobbing. I was like "umm hello...he's perfectly fine jackasses. He's on the stage before your very eyes singing." All Mar and I could do was roll our eyes and sit back and watch.

(Nick singing "Black Keys")

I do have to admit this one thing...the amount of work that must have gone into creating the lights and technical aspect of this show was phenominal. I was highly impressed with all the little and big things that went on to create a visual wonderland. From lighting, raised platforms, rain, fog, lasers, a trampoline that went into the middle section of the middle stage and finally to showering the fans with foam...it was impressive.

And then finally...mercifully they descended into the hole in the stage.

Stupid me though...I forgot that they would come back for an encore. Apparently I wasn't the only one that forgot this was a possibility because some parents hopped up out of their seats as if their asses had been lit on fire the second the lights dimmed and plotted their escape. You could hear cries in the dark of the fans that knew they would be back and of the fans that were being dragged out by their parents. And then just like a horror film...."they're baaaaaaaaaaaack"....

Then their closing song, "Burning Up" came on........

.....and it was over.

Han clasped her hands tightly over her ears as the crowd once again roared. I did a happy dance in my seat as I realized I had just survived my first concert with my kids.

Will I do it again??? Ummm, maybe. Will I do another Jonas concert?? NO.

We made our way out of the arena with the masses. The teenagers that we had let sit on their own had made it back to the limo without incident and within 15 minutes the whole menagerie was present and accounted for. We sat back in the limo and enjoyed the ride home.

Tonight...a full 24 hours later I asked Han if she had a good time. She cocks her head to the side and says, "mom, it was the best. I had wished and hoped to go and see the Jonas Brothers and now I can check that off my list."

It's really all a mom can ask for. Well, that and for my hearing to return.

~JP