Shutterfly Cards for Christmas!

I'm not exactly in my 20's anymore.

I can't ignore my monthly bills.

I don't go outside without lathering on the SPF 30. (Yes, I actually think about those type of things, now.)

And I can't leave the house without wearing a bra (most of the time.)

But, most importantly, I can no longer ignore the fact that it's high time that the hubs and I sent out a proper Christmas Card to our friends and family.

Just like grown-ups in the real world do.

It's high time I broke out the big guns.

This is where Shutterfly.com steps in and kicks some butt.

Shutterfly.com has made Christmas Card's personal and easy at the same time.

Basically, I get to do all the fun stuff, like upload pics of my adorable kids and they do all the hard part, like designing the card.

Then my fam gets the easy part, opening the mail.

And I get all the credit.

Who knew!

I mean, I have definitely attempted Christmas pictures over the past 16 years and some have been more successful than others.

This year I want to make things easier on myself.

Besides, look how cute these shutterly.com pics are:

** See how you can add all the fabulous things you did down the right side!

*Find this (and other cards) here!

**This one is cute, too.

* Find this card here!

**Or, I may just go with this one, tho. I mean, being a simple girl and all, it gets straight to the point.

*Find this card here!

Now for the hard part....

Getting hubs to put up the Christmas Tree BEFORE Thanksgiving and the even harder part... Getting all 4 kids to pose sweetly for a proper picture!

*************************************************************

Raise your hand if you think I can have these ordered, printed, stamped and mailed before Valentine's Day!

New Blog

I am not going to post on this blog anymore because Nakia Mitchell is logging on to it constantly. I will post a link to the new one on facebook. I think making everything private is the best solution. She dosent need means of inerjecting herself in our lives.

Facebook Face-off

So I made my facebook private... AGAIN.

If I could figure out how to make this private, I would do so, as well. In fact, I will probably have to delete this blog and start a new one with a secret link and here is why....

Apparently people look at my facebook (and blog) and report back to my ex. Some of these people have never even met me and I do not even know they existed, but they look at my page, nonetheless. And they look at it a lot. And they read into it things they should not. Then they call the ex and confront him and repeat things and he calls me and tells me and quite frankly, I am tired of hearing about it.

But I continue to ask him (and myself) this question... "What kind of woman will look at a complete strangers facebook, then call a man and confront him about what she sees?" That makes them look like a total creeper. Wouldnt it be better to keep your trap shut so...

#1. You wouldnt look ridiculous in the eyes of this man; and

#2. You can continue to look?

Mike and I have a good relationship. In fact, we are the exception when it comes to divorced people. We genuinely like each other and talk on a daily basis. He is going to repeat to me the idiotic things these "women" say. I don't know why it bothers me. But today, the creepiness just pushed me over the public facebook edge.

And Im sure everyone wonders why I am always going on about Nakia Mitchell, but something about an adult woman acting so desperate just rubs me the wrong way. The fact that she openly pursued a married man while she was married urks me (it doesnt help that that married man was my husband at the time.) It also bothers me that she is so nonchalant about it. When I confronted her for naming her child Jayden (which is my sons name) instead of being ashamed, she challenged my to a dual! Yes, thats right, she told me to come over to her house and fight her. In her yard. Because I questioned her. HELLO? I found out you have been sleeping with my ex BEFORE HE WAS MY EX, I know you have brought your kid around my children. I know that you named your baby my child's name and you are trying to trick Mike into thinking your kids are his... I have every right to ask questions! I am not going to let my kids get tangled up in that. And Im sure as heck not gonna let her try to move in on my child support! Hello!

Did I mention she told me to "Let Mike move on." I could care less if Mike moves on... unless it is with her and I will tell you why... She. Is. Married. And, even better... Her husband is a COP! A cop that is already a little unstable, from what I understand. Hello, he carries a gun.

I also found out that she has alleged her oldest son, Brandon, is Mikes. Which is ludicrous. Mike won't even entertain such nonesense. But for her to stoop to that level in order to make him talk to her is really creepy on her part. Such desperation. She is willing to totally screw up her kids life to try to get a man to pay attention to her. Its just plain disgusting. Besides, if she thinks

#1 that Mike will want her because of it or;

#2 that she is gonna cut into my child support

Shes got another thing coming. Shannon already thought having a kid would "trap him" and you see where that got her... and that child really was his. Pinning an 18 year old on him REALLY isn't going to work.

Shes a sad, pathetic person. And she doesnt need to look at my facebook.

*I will clarify, Nakia is not the only person that is looking at my page and reporting back. Their are others. And they don't need to see my page, either. If you are guilty of this and think it could be you I am reffering too, you are probably right. And, yes, I know who you are!

Teenagers These Days

The parks in my town serve as designated meeting places for several groups of people. In the middle of any given weekday, you will find moms with toddlers and young children, grandparents sporting fanny packs power walking and truant teenagers from the alternative high school.

Last week, we ventured out to a park with a large tubular slide. Beatle climbed up the ladder and then climbed back down.

"Why didn't you go down the slide?" I asked him.

"I tried," he explained, "But it's clogged."

I stuck my head up the bottom end far enough to see a couple making out.
"GET OUT OF THERE NOW!" I yelled (my voice echoing about 8 times.)

A few seconds later, a teenage boy wearing skintight jeans and shoes without laces exited the tunnel. A few more seconds later, his equally well-dressed lady friend followed. Without a backward glance at the picnic table full of evil-eyed moms, the couple sauntered off hand in hand.

The next day, we tried a different park, one with no enclosed spaces and no public bathrooms. Within a few minutes, a compact car pulled into the parking lot, blaring uplifting music. Five teenagers piled out and made their way to a picnic table at the far end of the park. All of the moms stopped discussing the merits and pitfalls of the current Friends & Family coupon promotion at Gymboree and watched the group suspiciously. I crouched behind the see-saw and to get a closer look just as the sweet aroma of marijuana wafted onto the playground.

"Mmmmm!" said Mikey. "Someone is cooking something good." He scanned the park for open barbecue pits. Finding none, he shrugged his shoulders and ran off.

"One of us should say something to them," said one of the moms, scanning the group. "Or call the cops."

Since I broke up the lovebirds the day before, I was off the hook. Before any lots could be cast, the teenagers finished their drugs and walked off into the woods.

The risks of getting mugged and acquiring a deer tick with Lyme Disease outweighed my desire to find out what five teenagers were doing together behind a large tree.

If it doesn't rain, later this afternoon we're headed to a park that is across the street from a grocery store and behind the cemetery. Included on its grounds are the ruins of an old schoolhouse, a duck pond/ drainage ditch, and a crumbling gazebo overrun with weeds... in other words, a school-skipping teenager's dream.

Wish me luck.

Dress Barn? Really?

Church is always a place of deep soul searching, inspiration, and personal reflection and revelation. This morning was no exception.

Before service a woman from my congregation, who just happens to be good friends with my grandmother, approached me with some exciting news. She had been shopping earlier that week at Dress Barn and had found several outfits that had my name written all over them.

This news concerned me for a number of reasons, the least of which was its source: a woman twice my age. What bothered me most about the woman's comment was the fact that it had the words "Dress Barn" in it. I have seen Dress Barns (from afar) in strip malls across the country, but I have never actually been inside one. I'm sure that the clothing that they sell there is perfectly nice, but on principle I refuse to shop at a store whose title is linked by word association to the terms udder, trough, and manure.

Aside from my personal opinions about a specific clothing store, my conversation with the women at church on Sunday got me thinking:

At what point in a woman's life does it become advisable, and even mandatory that she shop at a place like Dress Barn?

While I can't imagine how signing a credit card slip with the words "Dress Barn" printed across the top doesn't result in the loss of some personal dignity, I have started to realize that the stores that I frequent may very well signal that I've already lost it.

Lured by the promise of its moniker, I went to "Forever 21" the other day looking for some summer blouses. I was extremely disturbed to discover, however, that the shirts that fit and looked the best had "L's" and "XL's" stamped onto their collars. I could only wonder if this happens to be because:

#1 I am not 21
#2 I do not have the body of one either.

The hipless salesgirl didn't need to tell me where I belonged; the parade of mom-jeans wearing ladies with sensible, no-mess hair styles and comfortable, low-heel shoes power walking furiously toward the clearance rack at Ann Taylor Loft said it for her.

I have been in Ann Taylor Loft enough times to know that it is magical place where size 8's wear 4's and everyone is "petite." The cleanliness, orderliness, and overall classiness of this store and its relatives (Banana Republic, The Limited, etc) is, however, partly what scares me about them. You are what you wear, and I don't know if I'm ready to commit at this point in my life to being a clean, orderly, classy person.

The day that I lay my Charlotte Russe wardrobe to rest will also be the day, I fear, when I agree to not let my hair grow past my shoulders. Like clothing style, hair-length is an irreversible decision. Once you cut it, there's no going back. In fact, once you join the legion of middle-aged women who "go short," you're on the fast track to the Little Orphan Annie perm sported by every grandmother in America. At least that's what I fear.

I'm not looking forward to that day, but fortunately, I don't have to make that decision by myself. I've enlisted the help of my twenty-nine- year-old super stylish girlfriend to tell me when I've pushed the teen envelope too far. She says that I have a year or two at most. By then, though, she'll be my age and most likely will be in the midst of her own mid-life crisis. I may not be able to trust her judgment.

Thanks for Nothing, Tooth Fairy

The Tooth Fairy is in big trouble at my house. Last Week, Mikey lost a tooth. When he woke up the next morning, his tooth was still under his pillow. Bursting into our bedroom at the crack of dawn he cried, "The Tooth Fairy didn't come!"

I looked accusingly at hubs who grimaced and put a pillow over his head.

I told my son that the Tooth Fairy probably got lost in the city or bit by the raccoon/wolverine that has recently taken up residence behind our back fence.

"She'll come tonight," I promised.

Just to make sure, Mikey wrote the Tooth Fairy a note, specifying where to place the crisp dollar he was expected to bring.

The next morning, he came into our bedroom in disgust and a rising level of resentment.

Hubs told him that the Tooth Fairy was vacationing in Hawaii. The truth was that she spent the night watching red box DVD's and drinking wine in her room with her husband and dozed off without paying up.

While my son ate breakfast, I slipped into his room and shoved two dollars plus interest under his mattress. A few minutes later, I casually suggested that he try to look for the money again, just in case the tooth fairy was done lying on the beach with the Easter bunny.

My child was not at all surprised to find the bills in an odd place.

"I don't think that Tooth Fairy is very smart," he announced as he counted her bills.

I would have to say that I agree.

*****
Anyone else have a child who the Tooth Fairy forgot?

Please? Anyone?

Laundy doesnt wash itself!

I was very young when I learned about the laundry fairy.

Whenever my sweet twelve-year-old self would ask my mom what she did all day while I was at school, she would count to ten and say through gritted teeth, "Who do you think washes your clothes...the laundry fairy?"

As a result, I've grown up looking for evidence that the laundry fairy has paid me a visit.

Today, after spending the day away from home with my grandma, I found it.

Specifically, my massive laundry pile was half as tall as usual. Upon closer examination, I realized that the missing clothes belonged to my two youngest children. I clapped my hands with excitement over the fact that someone other than myself had to make hard decisions about the fate of skid marked underpants.

I was too busy celebrating my unexpected good fortune to notice that Beatle was wearing the same outfit as he did the day before. Mikey's stiff blue shirt sleeve forced me to take off my rose-colored glasses.

"That shirt has a giant fruit punch stain on its sleeve," I pointed out as he passed me in the hall.

"It's all I have!" he yelled.

After rolling my eyes a sufficient number of times to let everyone know what I thought of his excuse, I stomped into their room (sighing loudly the whole way) to have a look for myself.

"Have you been putting dirty clothes back in your drawer?" I asked my sons, pointing to the filthy contents of their dresser.

Stupid questions require stupid answers.

"I don't know," Mikey replied.

Needless to say, my belief in the laundry fairy has been shaken.

P.S. Do you how hard it is to find a picture of a non-trampy fairy on the Internet? Since when do fairies wear pasties and g-strings?!