Mama Bean's World

Me and My Uterus

2012-02-22T19:31:00.000-08:00

I haven't really written anything the past week or so-- I've tried, but I've been at a loss for words.

Seriously.

Me.

This has never happened.

The fact that our government just had a hearing on birth control (please note, it was about WOMEN's BIRTH CONTROL-- not vasectomies) and failed to have ANY WOMEN on the panel and then was discussed by an ALL MALE PANEL on MSNBC (the most liberal of them all...) horrifies me.

I have watched and listened with my jaw dropped as so many personal and intimate topics about my reproductive organs have been discussed over the past few weeks.

By men that I don't know and never want to know.

Not intimately. Not personally. Not biblically. Not socially.

By men that aren't going any where near my lady parts.

But holy crap, they certainly have strong opinions on them.

I told my husband I was going to write a funny blog and say that my uterus wrote. I even started it.

Then the panel happened.

This is real folks.

This isn't a joke.

This isn't a laughing matter.

One of the most life changing books I've ever read was "Reading Lolita in Tehran." It's written by an Iranian professor- female- who thought the Shah was horrific. When the religious sect took over, she actually thought it might be good for her country. She was Muslim. Slowly, they started to dictate what she taught. Then her female students started disappearing. Then she was told to come into the building up the back stairs- only men could use the front. Then she was told what to wear- traditional dress. Then she was fired.

All over a few months. All in a country that, believe it or not, had a very educated progressive female population.

This scares the living shit out of me.

Requiring transvaginal ultrasounds for having a completely legal procedure? WHAT? What other medical procedure does a state legislature regulate? None. Should you be forced to get a rectal exam to get Viagara (which NEVER has a life or death purpose)?

I've had one of those ultrasounds.

Not fun.

I think every lawmaker who voted for it should get one or a nice rectal exam with the ultrasound device.

A woman makes a legal, decision and you want to rape her for it?

And who's to say that she didn't pray to the exact same God that these alleged God Loving people do and came to the decision that an abortion was the right thing to do? What about real faith and trust in God? The abortion rate is dropping. It's not an easy decision or an easy fix. Single parenthood has lost the stigma. That's good news for the pro life movement. You're winning your battle without having to deprive women of their rights.

But let's take abortion off the table. That's an old argument that will continue for ages in the US and no one's mind is going to change.

BUT BIRTH CONTROL IS UNDER ATTACK?

What?

Birth control.

What separates us from most impoverished nations. The ability to control the population.

The one thing that has allowed women the opportunity to have equal rights.

I don't think truly private organizations should be forced to cover birth control if it's against their doctrine. If they receive federal and public funding, well, um, you're not private any more. Sorry.

And to attack Planned Parenthood-- that's WHERE I got my birth control because my health insurance didn't cover it in the 90's. Not an abortion- pills. And my pap smear that wasn't covered "unless there was an issue." In fact, Planned Parenthood in Las Vegas doesn't perform abortions. Most of their clinics nationwide don't. Yes, they offer referrals to physicians who do, but they also offer adoption service referrals as well.

What did that congressman say when he said before Congress that abortions were 90% of what they do-- "He wasn't actually quoting factual data..."

No shit, moron. Planned Parenthood has provided women with options on all those "icky" topics that men don't discuss- except apparently in closed door Congressional panels. My mother's generation didn't get annual pap smears or mammograms. They died early from cancer. My generation gets screened and I have many friends that have survived cancer because of early detection. My generation gets this because the generation before us fought for it. Planned Parenthood gave women an education on topics that were taboo to discuss- it allowed us to be part of the work force, to not be dependent on men for income because we were having babies-- it helped give us control. And apparently my generation has forgotten.

So in the last few weeks I've seen Planned Parenthood and birth control under attack. I expect it on abortion, but women's health? We have 8.5% unemployment. Europe is falling apart. The Middle East is a disaster and BIRTH CONTROL IS THE HOT TOPIC FOR POLITICAL DEBATE???

When did I blink and my country was taken over by a bunch of men who want me back in the kitchen having babies?

When did I suddenly lose my rights to my own body and health?

You know what the number one cause of pregnancy is?

Penises.

Let's ban penises.

Should we require reversible vasectomies of all men following an anal exam until they prove they are father material?

Should we subject the 20-30% of father's who don't pay child support but could, to rectal exams and castration?

Hmmm.... I might be on to something with that last one....

But honestly folks, keeping abortion off the table (because I will politely agree to disagree- I absolutely respect the pro-life crowd), let's not be ridiculous about birth control. Let's acknowledge that nearly 90% of boys and 80% of girls have already had sex before they graduate high school (and I'm assuming none are married). Let's not be stupid. People have sex.

So if Congress really wants to stop unwanted pregnancy, let's really do it.

Let's ban penises.

I suggest we start with all the penises in Washington first.

There certainly seems to be too many dicks floating around Washington for my liking.

2.2 lbs Gone....

2012-02-12T13:05:00.000-08:00

Well, my big "Hey I need to really exercise more because I eat fine" realization last week led me to my biggest loss since I started Weight Watchers.

Okay, so how WW's works is you get assigned a point level based on your age and weight. Mine is 29. You also get 49 extra points that you can use if you'd like throughout the week. They don't encourage you to use them, but it's a great way to give you limits and let you indulge without falling off the wagon completely. Since the biggest hurdle in weight loss is the mental aspect, I think it's a great strategy. Sort of a limit to the days you just can't do it any more.

They also added the option in January, after evaluating the plan for the past year, that if you're not happy with your weight loss, you can drop the points by 3. You also earn activity points based on low-medium-high levels and use them as needed.

So this past week, I dropped my points to 27, "earned" 46 activities points, "used" 35 of them and never touched the extra points and had activity points leftover. I did 2 spin classes, 1 zumba class, 1 tap dance class and worked out with my 10 minute trainer videos for a total of 30 minutes throughout the week. Per my heart rate monitor, my cardio capacity is improving and I lost weight.

Woo hoo! Well, not so fast....

Here's my fear-- if you followed my old weight loss blog my concern when I started this was that I would not be able to maintain a high activity level. I had lost weight 7 years ago through nothing other than tracking what I ate (which wasn't too bad at that time) and doing spin 2 times a week and step aerobics 3 times a week. Then I had my daughter, then the market crashed and I truly needed to be in the office more. I started to go at 5 am. Then my husband started teaching early bird classes and leaves at 5:30 am for work. And I'm sorry, 4 am isn't a reasonable option when I often get home after 6 from work. That is still night time to me.

So the fact that THIS week I was able to fit everything was great. However, while I would love to commit to this every week I can't. And if I say I can, then don't, I will get discouraged and quit. The all or nothing thing.

I read this fantastic book "If I'm So Smart Why Can't I Lose Weight?" and the author discusses being realistic about your MINIMUM commitment. Don't start with 5 hours a week if you aren't even fitting in an hour. I agree. I've done this more than once. She's right. That's how it goes.

When I was working out 5 days a week, I had no problem losing weight. The second I stopped, it all came back.

Hence my trepidation.

I absolutely can make 4-5 days work a priority for the next few weeks. Then my husband starts track. May is usually a nightmare. Summer should work, minus vacation. Then August is crazy with back to school. Then a few weeks that might work, then the holidays....

Do you see where I'm going?

I need something that will be realistic and consistent. Clearly, if I don't exercise, I can't lose the weight. I also know that aside from the scale, exercise provides so much more-- and I think I need to focus on that. Anything is better than nothing.

However, the fear of working so hard and gaining it back because I can't adjust to the real world, is scary.

Don't worry, I will keep plucking along-- I'm off to spin right now, in fact.

And even though the fear of gaining it all back (again) is there, I am hoping with Weight Watchers and their ongoing plans (you keep going even if you hit your goal weight-- and it's free if you stay within 5 pounds of your goal), it will be different this time.

I will exercise to be healthy. And if I happen to lose some weight great.

Family Values

2012-02-09T19:41:00.000-08:00

I am trying to start a shop-in at JC Penney this Saturday to show support for their decision to keep Ellen DeGeneres as their spokeswoman.

I am overwhelmed by the support it has received. I hope it continues to build and people tell the Million (or 40,000) Moms that we have a no-bullying policy. Because that's what they are, bullies.

My reasons for doing this might surprise. It's not because I am passionate about gay rights. I support gay rights because why wouldn't I? I have enough gay friends and family to know it's not a choice. I have yet to be shocked when I find out that someone I went to school or college with is gay. Normally my response is "And?????" Gay rights are simply ingrained in me. I see it as a human rights issue. I find anti-gay people fascinating. And I'm not talking gay marriage-- the people I find fascinating are the people that have this deep hatred of anyone gay-- as if it's a disease that will spread. That it is evil and corrupt. That God hates gay people. It's laughable to me. I just assumed that when God says he loves everyone, it means, well, EVERYONE.

So yes, I support gay rights, but what REALLY pissed me off about the Million Moms was that they offended me. From their website:

JC Penney Offends Traditional Families Again

Recently JC Penney announced that comedian Ellen Degeneres will be the company's new spokesperson. Funny that JC Penney thinks hiring an open homosexual spokesperson will help their business when most of their customers are traditional families. More sales will be lost than gained unless they replace their spokesperson quickly. Unless JC Penney decides to be neutral in the culture war then their brand transformation will be unsuccessful.

First, what the heck is an "open homosexual?" Are the commercials soft lesbian porn? Is Ellen going to be making out with Portia in the furniture section? I'm thinking no...

Okay, so here's my REAL gripe. I have a "traditional family." I shop at JC Penney's. I could give a crap if Ellen Degeneres is gay.

As a traditional family, I feel they have degraded MY values and beliefs. My family believes in treating ALL people with dignity and respect.

These Million Morons give families a bad name. They are an embarrassment.

Marriage rates are dropping. Our traditional families appear to be a thing of the past. I think it explains a lot about what's wrong in society. Families don't eat dinner around the table any more. They don't play board games. Everyone is rushing. Everyone is focused on themselves. When things get rough, people divorce without trying to work it out. Kids don't respect their parents.

It's a mess. Hence my last blog.

Now my main difference between the MM's is that I don't care what your family looks like- 2 dads, 2 moms, 1 of each. But kids need a family. They need structure. Being in a long term relationship is priceless.

I am privileged to work with many couples who have been married for seemingly forever. Is it always easy for them? No. But they are a team. Someone always has their back. It's not sunshine, rainbows and unicorns every day, but there is that connection that comes with knowing someone for 40 years. Basically, it's worth it.

I don't think everyone should get married, have 2 kids and live in the burbs-- not in the least.

But sadly, many people are scared to get married because they think it's the end of something- not the beginning of a pretty cool adventure. And I blame the MMs. They take something fabulous like love and support and make it this unbearable unit of hatred, misery and life indenture.

Because if you read their website, that's what they're about- hatred.

They HATE everything.

They protest EVERYTHING.

I saw nothing on their website that was remotely positive.

They, quite frankly, give families a bad name.

And that, my friends, pisses me off.

I wish everyone had a spouse like my husband. Most of the time. I wish everyone had kids that they loved to hang out with as much as we like our kids. I have so many friends who are happily married. Seriously. Marriage and kids aren't diseases. They are actually quite lovely. It means giving up some of the things you did as a single person (like having sex with other people and staying out all night), but in exchange you get hugs, kisses and this connection that can't be described.

But the MMs think it's some arduous task that require constant monitoring from outside evils. It's like their own bunker of anger.

Keep in mind these MMs are the same geniuses that banned Schweddy Balls ice cream. Clearly eating the wrong ice cream will slowly destroy American family life. Talk about being too tightly wound.

So yes, I support gay rights. But honestly, I support REAL American family value- the right to respects others and embrace what makes us different.

Tell these bullies to shut up.

This Saturday, join my friends and I as we shop at JC Penney. Even if you just need some socks.

You MMs think you are going to hurt JC Penney? Think again. They will be thanking you for giving them a free advertising campaign.

Next time, I hope they read the bible, rather than just thumping it.

Parents

2012-02-06T22:50:00.000-08:00

This week my friend Julie posted an article about charter schools. We had a bit of a discussion on how charter schools impact public schools- are they viable option for parents who feel their children are getting a "lesser" education or are they drains on the public schools, pulling the good kids out?

Here's my general thought-- until they figure out how to fix public schools, I like that I have an option. My kids are both currently enrolled in public school. They have, however, rezoned our school. What a difference it has made. And not for the better.

It has, however, confirmed my suspicions about the "problem" with public schools.

It ain't the schools. It's the parents.

Holy freaking crap.

Our school has no U-turn signs posted every where. You guessed it, the morning is full of people making u-turns, barely missing kids riding their bikes and crossing the street. Today, a woman sat underneath a sign in the flower bed which read "Please do not walk in the flower beds" WHILE HER DOG PISSED ALL OVER.

How on earth is the school supposed to fix this?

And people want schools to be the primary care givers. Students eat breakfast and lunch at school. Now our school offers before school reading assistance and after school math assistance.

I understand that parents are busy. People work. I work. I also know that I can fit 15-30 minutes out of my day to work with my kids on their school work. Maybe not every day, but most days. We read before bed. My son is an early riser, so we started doing his homework in the morning. I had to set my alarm a little earlier, but that's what worked for him. My daughter works best right after school. We read. When the teacher said make cards to practice sight words, I did.

Apparently, the other parents don't. I've heard the words "I don't have time to do this homework."

When I volunteer in the classroom (and I appreciate that not every parent has the ability to do this), I am always stunned when I ask kids if their parents have given them tips on their spelling tests-- silly me.

And it's not like these parents are showing up, exhausted after school, heading to their second jobs. They are swearing at their kids, telling them to hurry up while they text on their phones- it's disgusting. It's like no one told them that once they had children they had to grow up and be a parent-- you know, a role model.

I have fun with my kids. If you read my blog, you know this. My son has recently started to tell me what a good mom I am. I'm not sure what brought it on-- I'm going to bottle it for later. But, yes, we have fun. And they make their beds. And do their homework. And they go to bed early. And they don't eat sugary cereals. And sometimes I say "No." Because that's what moms do. I had fun in my youth and now it's time to pay the bills and be responsible. You know what? It's not so bad.

I'm not sure when being a grown-up became uncool, but apparently, it has. So many people seem intent on acting like teenagers. They want to be cool.

Why?

Life isn't junior high.

I want my children to respect and love me. When they are adults, we will be buddies. For now, sometimes I can be mean. And sometimes, like today, when my son had to "sign the calendar" in his class (a bit like a written warning), and was almost in tears, I hugged him and said "You know what, kid? This is only the second time in 4 years you've ever had a problem. It happens. Don't worry." He was running in the hall. He knew better. I didn't trash the teacher. She was right. But he's a good kid. My daughter, however, the Queen of the Red Cards, that's a different story. She gets an early bed time for the same thing. Regularly. Sigh.

But that's part of being a parent.

People are putting so much responsibility on public schools, but no one is even discussing the absence of parenting.

Their kids are fat from school lunches. Of course, they could pack lunches. And kids eat way more meals at home-- 5 bad meals a week for 9 months don't cause childhood obesity.

Their kids can't read because of the poor teachers. The others kids somehow managed. And how on earth did the parents not know their child couldn't read? It should come up before 3rd grade.

Teachers are so overwhelmed with new standards, behavioral issues and red tape.

Here's a thought- why not just throw cots into the gym so the teachers can completely raise your child?

And here's another thought- Parents, grow up. Life isn't supposed to be fun every single day. Sometimes being a parent is difficult. And sometimes you have to put your child first.

You drink HOW much soda?!?!

2012-02-06T18:30:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I had a few big realizations this week at Weight Watchers.

First, I eat really well and their "diet" is not working for me. Food is not my issue.

Second, exercise is the only way I'm going to lose weight. Period.

Now don't get me wrong-- WW has a fantastic food guideline and I will continue to track using their system. They also noted that for some people, they realized the new system was not working well, and if it wasn't, I need to lower my daily points. I will be lowering my points.

I also think the weekly meetings are exactly what I need. It keeps me on track when I really want to say "Screw it." I know my friends are there (thank you Lisa and Ellen!) and although my progress is slow, it IS progress.

I have officially decided, however, that I would like to speed things up. Clearly, more exercise is what I need. My friend Ellen is killing it in her spin classes. She's not just relying on the diet portion.

Our leader Matt, who I like, kept emphasizing that it really IS what you're eating. No, really it's not. Tracking my food helps me be conscientious, but honestly, there are very few times I go over my points. Certainly not enough for me to have only lost 11 pounds in 5 months. Clearly, the points for me are off.

And for whatever reason this week's meeting, I just wanted to slap people.

One guy has lost 14 pounds BY GIVING UP DRINKING 7 MOUNTAIN DEWS A DAY. No shit. Giving up an extra 770 calories a day and 217 grams of sugar will do it.

I don't drink soda.

And there's another woman who said something else like "Well, I don't eat out of the vending machines anymore... no more candy bars."

I don't even remember the last time I had an entire candy bar or a can of soda.

I'm not exaggerating.

I think I had a Heath bar when I was pregnant with my daughter 7 years ago?

I have mini sodas for clients and last winter when my throat was sore, I might have had a Dr. Pepper. Maybe?

And fast food? Chicken nuggets 2 months ago.

I eat shredded wheat for breakfast with skim milk. I eat a salad that I bring from home for lunch with feta and 3 oz of a protein or an egg. No dressing except for balsamic vinegar. Dinner, we eat out about 2-3 times a week. I even figured out what to get at Smashburger- the grilled chicken with BBQ sauce on the whole grain bun. Mexican? Grilled fish tacos for me. Dinner tonight-- I roasted a chicken and sliced the potatoes with them.

There is nothing "bad" to cut out.

Yes, the late night snacking and not being aware-- tracking has helped that. But I think I may have maxed out the benefit of cutting that.

So that leaves me with two options - really cut back (that one cup of coffee with cream-- I'm switching that to green tea 3 times a week, the once a week ice cream splurge- no more) or up the exercise.

I'm opting for upping the exercise and cutting back a little bit more.

And I'm not trashing WW's-- I will keep tracking and logging and going to the meetings, but I am going to tune out when they focus on food. If I ate so poorly, my kids would also be overweight (they aren't) and there is no way my husband would have been able to lose and keep off 125 pounds.

I have a sedentary lifestyle. That needs to change. Eating rice cakes is not going to help it.

So that's where I'm at this week. A little fed up. A little annoyed at stupid people who don't eat fruits and vegetables and are amazed when they do. A little irritated that they keep telling me to track as if I'm paying $49 a month for shits and giggles. A little more motivated to do something.

I have to say, even though the scale is barely moving, I actually have gotten rid of quite a few clothes that looked simply silly. Granted, most clothes just fit better, but I have sweat pants that don't stay up, a pair of work pants that I changed when I saw myself in the mirror-- clearly things are happening, just not on the scale that much.

So I will keep on going. I just know that I can't rely on watching what I eat to do the trick. It's not going to be my magic bullet.

But on a positive note, if Armageddon were to come tomorrow, my metabolism is SO ready for it....

Mama Bean's World: Scales and Photos Don't Lie

2012-01-30T20:17:00.000-08:00

Mama Bean's World: Scales and Photos Don't Lie: I am so appreciative of all the support I've gotten as I've tried to get this weight thing under control. Seriously. This is just a comple...

Scales and Photos Don't Lie

2012-01-30T20:15:00.000-08:00

I am so appreciative of all the support I've gotten as I've tried to get this weight thing under control. Seriously. This is just a complete and total vent and not some pathetic cry for "Tell me I'm beautiful..."

Okay, so at WW's this week they suggested we take photos along the way to record our weight loss.

Fantastic idea, right?

No freaking way.

To quote the woman as I weighed in (who, to her credit is normally a little perkier than she was this past Sunday) "The scale doesn't lie." This was in response to my very candid, off handed remark when she informed me that I had only lost one pound and I said "Wow- really?" It was directed more at the universe, not a personal affront to her ability to read the scale. You see, my scale at home is pretty much the same as their scale. So when I was surprised that somewhere along the 2 mile drive I had gained 1.5 pounds, I responded with what I felt was a natural response of "Wow- how did that happen?"

But to her point, the scale doesn't lie.

I know I should be looking at the "non-scale victories" as they call them at Weight Watchers, but darn it, it would be nice to actually see the scale move a little more than at a snail's pace. I was so excited to have more than a 2 pound loss, but apparently I drove through some sort of weight gain invisible shower on my way there.

This week I did have a "clothing epiphany"- and please excuse the quotations-- whenever there is some hilariously cheesy WW phrase, I prefer to put in quotations so no one blames me for the cheese. I would also like to caution you NOT to mock the phrases because I have, as stated earlier, drank the Weight Watcher kool aid. It's like family-- I can mock mine, but you can't.

Anyhow, so my big clothing epiphany-- I took my jeans from the dryer and put them on without doing that little dance where you squeeze yourself into them and jump up and down to wiggle them on. I put them on and they fit. Loosely. Damn the scale to hell.

So I was feeling pretty good.

And then I saw the video from our dance recital from December 2010 and I look like a shuffling Oompa Loompa. I had seen it before but never on a big screen. I do not do well on widescreen. Now your next natural comment is "But you've lost weight since then."

No. I haven't.

I am exactly what I was when that was taped. During the last 3 years I have gained 20 pounds, lost 30, gained 25, and have most recently lost 14. Which if you follow that, pretty much leaves me where I was 3 years ago. Which is still 60 pounds overweight. And that doesn't count the 30 pounds I lost 8 years ago and gained back. In the past 8 years I have lost 74 pounds and ended up exactly where I started. *&((*&(*&@#!

So woohoo! I have almost lost weight that I've already lost.

Yea me.

Please note sarcastic tone in my typing.

And then I was looking at pictures from when my son was 2. We were actually looking at pictures of my husband and how much weight he's lost (125+ pounds- pretty amazing). For me, however, it was depressing. It was the lowest weight I had been in my 30's-- still overweight, but nothing like now. I stayed there until I got pregnant with my daughter and got back down to it pretty quickly. Then it all fell apart.

ANYHOW, so I don't particularly find the idea of photographs very motivating. Degrading and demoralizing, yes, motivating, no.

It's just I see the pictures and rather than get all jazzed at "Wow- I've lost 13 pounds!" I think "Gee- I'm almost back to what I was when I first started to lose weight and realized I was fat!"

See how that's not exactly motivating?

I think for me I might as well just be honest with myself. The scale doesn't lie

Today at Zumba I was feeling all good about myself. I finally had the nerve to look into the mirror. You know what? I've got some moves down. The reason I looked was because I noticed the newbies were watching ME to see how to do things-- granted, the teacher was hard to see, but still- ME! Tubby, oompa loompa me. So I snuck a peak and thought "Shake it sista!" And then right before the end of class, I caught a side view.

There was the Oompa Loompa staring back at me.

Listen, it is what it is. That's what I told my tap teacher when I told how horrified I was by video. She said the new costumes are more forgiving. I told her "Millie, they were all black last time. What could be more forgiving? It is what it is."

And it is.

The only thing I can do is keep trying. I can't fix what was. Pictures don't lie.

Looking at what I used to be is depressing. The horror of how I let myself go is demoralizing.

I think for now, I'll keep on keeping on. There's no turning back. There's no Plan B.

Just don't expect me to be happy about it.

The Princesses and The Mom

2012-01-25T22:57:00.000-08:00

I'm not going to lie, I've had a stick up my butt about the Disney Princesses my entire life. I was a tomboy. I have no memory of ever wanting to be a princess. I grew up listening to Marlo Thomas singing "Free to Be, You and Me." I am a product of the women's liberation movement and I have absolutely NO problem saying that. Women burned bras, rallied and broke through the glass ceiling so that I would have the right to attend any college, any academy, and run in a marathon. Yep. That's right- not so long ago women WEREN'T ALLOWED TO RUN MARATHONS. Personally, I have not done this, but at least it's an option that I can choose to pass on. Because I would die. But that's beside the point....

I remember being in a women's history class in college and I made the comment that I didn't consider myself a feminist.

OUCH.

Life changing comment.

"So you don't think women have a right to earn as much as a man? You think women deserve to be discriminated against in the workplace? Pay more for insurance?" screamed a very passionate young women.

"Um... no..." I muttered.

"That's feminism! What do you think a feminist looks like?!?!"" she continued.

And, being the smartass that I am I almost said "Hairy legged butchy women?" but considering that I was, in fact the only person in the room that shaved my legs, I opted to say "You know what? You're right." And she was. I believe a woman has every right politically, professionally, academically that a man has.

I am always amazed that I am truly part of the first generation that had no limits. There were always girls sports teams. My calculus class was at least a third girls-- ten years earlier, that was probably not the case. The junior high girls basketball team that I had played on was, in truth, only a few years old. Wow.

As a tomboy, I'm not surprised that I work in an industry that is male dominated. But even that is changing. I joke that I am happy more women are entering finance, but I never had to worry about buying a drink at a conference when I first started-- I was usually one of the few women in a room of a hundred men. Now, not so much. And I'm 20 years older....sigh.

ANYHOW, so when I found out I was having a daughter, I was concerned. I am not a girls girl. I don't giggle. EVER. I laugh. I tell dirty jokes. I belch. I have cried over 2 boys in my entire life. One worth it, the other not so so much. I always said I didn't need a Prince Charming, I could build my own damn kingdom. I do, however, shave my legs. I wanted to point that out....

When I was about 8 months pregnant, I called my friend Kim from Target. I had gone to buy a few things for my daughter. I was having a meltdown. EVERYTHING WAS PINK. Everything. And everything had kitties on it. No dogs, just kitties. I'm allergic to cats. And the shirts said things like "Daddy's Princess" "Diva in Training"-- I was horrified. I believe my conversation went something like this:

"WHAT THE HELL?!?! A LITTLE GIRL CAN'T WEAR GREEN? AND WHAT'S ALL THIS KITTY SH*T? MY DAUGHTER CAN'T LIKE A FREAKING PUPPY? DIVA SHIRTS? ANIMAL PRINTS WITH BLING? AM I TRAINING HER TO BE A PROSTITUTE?"

Kim talked me off the ledge and I left Target ranting on my cell phone.

I stand by my tirade.

My baby girl was born. Her room was yellow. Her crib set primary colors. Her clothes assorted colors- often pink, but not always.

But alas, time passed and I couldn't keep her from the vacuum of the Disney Princess phenomenon that hits every pre-school girl.

I vaguely remember "Cinderella" and "Snow White"- to be honest, they freaked me out. Very dark. I saw "The Little Mermaid" when I was part of the Big Sister program in college and was horrified when Ariel ditched her family, friends and peaceful life under the sea to follow Eric. Seriously, I made a bit of a stink about it. Aside from the music, I had a hard time understanding how people could like the movie. Eric seemed like a tool-- really? She was a mermaid for crying out loud and now she's some dude's arm candy?!?!

My daughter's first princess obsession was Snow White. Her teacher, who was awesome, dressed up as Snow White for Halloween, so it was reasonable. We watched it 100 times. During the second time, my daughter looked up at me and said "Can I have an apple?" Cracked me up because it was right after the poison apple scene.... she didn't seem too mesmerized by the prince. The story is more about bitchy moms. Okay, fine.

Next came "Beauty and the Beast." I have to say, at least Belle was a nerd. A knock-out nerd, but next to my favorite Tiana (oh yes, I know them all), she's pretty good. She has no interest in the burly, buff dude. She's smart. Yes, she also has a 12 inch waist and 72 inch chest, but she was more than that.

I watched it with my daughter on the couch and at the end, as I turned to tell her "You know this is all crap..." she had GIANT tears in her eyes and sobbed "Mommy, it's so beautiful-- they're in LOVE...they finally got married...."

Sigh.

So I said "You know it doesn't really work that way, right?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"There are no princes in castles," I replied. "The real story starts AFTER they get married..."

"But what about Daddy?"

"What do you mean?" I asked curiously.

"Isn't he your prince? Didn't you just look at him and know? I thought that's what you said?"

Rats.... that is what I said.

My husband and I spent an entire day together for our first official date. That night, as we were saying good night, we were standing on opposite sides of my car, we looked at each other and that was it.

No joke.

Just like that.

Just like in the freaking movie.

So even though I am absolutely free to be whoever I want to be, it doesn't mean that I still can't live happily ever after. And shave my legs.

Seredipity and Drew Carey

2012-01-23T23:33:00.000-08:00

This is not the blog I meant to write today- I had a few ideas- write about my party and fantastic friends, about some people's implication that they are so "busy" and the rest of us eat bon bon's all day... but this is the one that needed to be written.

According to Merriam-Webster's serendipity is defined as the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for.

Serendipity plays a role in my life often. I am a collector of friends. I find that they find their way into my life always at the exact right moment.

As did Drew Carey.

For about the past 14 years, I've been meaning to thank him.

No, I don't actually know him. In fact. since I don't actually know him, it's been a little difficult to follow through on my karmic mission of thanking him.

But suddenly, he's popped up again- twice in the past week. When I was at the manicurist, The Price is Right was on. Not shocking, but I thought "Ah, Drew Carey... I never did send a thank you..."

Then today, I was playing "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" on Facebook and the question was "Which comedian replaced Bob Barker on 'The Price is Right?'"

Drew Carey. (And by the way, only 4 people got that right-- seriously??? )

Anyhow, I thought "Hmmm.... it's a sign. I should start my mission to thank him..." I'd gotten nowhere over the years. Those silly laws preventing celebrity stalking... ANYHOW, he does have a blog on Blogger. So I thought, well, I'll give it the ol' college try and send this as a shout out.

Thank you, Drew Carey.

Oh wait-- you're probably curious as to why I would thank him....

You see, 14 years ago, Mama Bean's World did not exist. I was Lori, alone in Las Vegas, recently had called off a wedding after finding out that my lovely fiance had had a pretend diploma, pretend job and oh, had kited a bunch of money from my bank account. The good news, I found out 6 weeks before we were supposed to get married. Nice save. Great, huh? Sure. Then, my go-to guy-- the one that had always been there waiting for me-- well, he finally found someone else. Someone who appreciated him and didn't use him perpetually as Plan B. That hurt worse than the fiance because I deserved that. Really deserved it. Work sucked. Beyond sucked. As in a major class action lawsuit the next year (apparently, I wasn't the only one who was having issues). All my friends were married and having babies. It was not a fun time.

And then I got strep throat. Bad. On a three day weekend. Everyone was out of town except for 1 work colleague who was nice enough to drive me to the quick care. Actually, he followed me in my car because he couldn't stay. I figured I could call a cab if I couldn't drive back home.

I was sick. I was depressed. Really depressed. Not in the hormonal-imbalance-medicatable way, but in the holy-shit-my-life-really-and-truly-sucks way. Yes, me. Miss Sunshine and Roses. Miss I Was a Motivational Speaker in a Previous Life me.

To make it worse, I wasn't sure how I ended up in that spot. I had dated some great guys- turned down some proposals- had quit fantastic jobs- had traveled the world.

All to end up, sad, alone on a futon with 102 degree fever.

You'd have been sad, too. It had all looked so promising yet at that moment, looked nothing like the picture in the brochure "Lori's Spectacular Life."

Earlier in the week I had picked up the book "Dirty Jokes and Beer" at Borders. I think it was in the discount bin. I lived in Cleveland. I liked Drew Carey. I'm a John Irving fan, a contemporary literature gal, so this was not my normal genre. I have no idea why I picked it up. But I did.

I grabbed it from my coffee table.

I read the forward.

Drew Carey and I have lead oddly parallel lives. We grew up in NE Ohio. We are band nerds. We attended Kent State- although mine was only a semester junior year. We even both lived (I still do) in Vegas and here, both did not find our lives heading in the direction we had chosen.

I started to smile.

The first part of the book is comprised of some of the funniest short stories I have ever read. I still laugh to myself when I think about the guy getting chased by Jim Brown-- I don't remember the details, but in NE Ohio, Jim Brown is a god.

I started to laugh.

A lot.

The stories incorporate life in Cleveland, at Kent, in Vegas... all hilarious, twisted and right up my alley. Disturbed, in fact. All with references that seemed custom made for me.

Then the joke sections...

There is an entire chapter dedicated to Big Dick Jokes. Holy cow, I have never laughed so hard in my life. He and a friend had apparently started a battle of whose dick was bigger and the jokes were born. And they are hysterically funny- grossly inappropriate for dinner conversation, but at the time, exactly what I needed.

Serendipitous, in fact.

So there I was, on my futon, running a fever with tears running down my eyes from laughing so hard about penis jokes.

My 6 month funk ended in that moment.

No joke.

A crass, crude, juvenile book of some of the bawdiest jokes ever pulled this Ivy League prima donna, Debbie Do Right out of the worst funk of my life.

Silly, huh?

For the next few months any time I felt myself start to slip back into that funk, I would pull out the book and start laughing.

It sorta saved my life. I wasn't suicidal, but to be honest, had I not gotten off that futon, I probably would have become a bitter, angry person. I was sliding and that's what got me to turn it around. Who knows where I would have ended up?

The jokes were also useful on the dating scene- trust me, big dick jokes sound extra funny coming from sweet, little ol' me.

So, Drew Carey, if you're reading this, thank you. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to tell you. I just thought that as someone who had a few funk periods yourself, you might want to know that your silly little joke book turned it around for me. I know, it's ridiculous, but it really, truly did.

Life is quite good. I've never gone back to that dark place on the futon again.

But when the clouds start to creep in, I hear a tiny voice that says...

"My dick is so big it has it's own area code...."

And I know everything is gonna be all right.

My Birthday Party

2012-01-18T21:35:00.000-08:00

This Friday is my birthday. On Friday I will go out to dinner with my family. On Saturday I will be celebrating it with 50-80 of my closest friends (and if this has you upset, please check your Events tab on Facebook-- you were probably invited and didn't realize this....).

Yes, most years since I've been an adult, I've thrown myself a birthday party.

Apparently, this is weird. Or selfish. Or something. People often have an odd reaction. It surprises me.

Seriously- what is so weird about having a birthday party?

I love my friends- I actually adore them. They make me laugh. They are there when I need them. They are my home team, so to speak. They are funny. They are vivacious. They are smart. I cannot think of a better way to spend one night a year better than gathering all of these spectacularly unique people into one room and getting them drunk. It's a blast.

I used to have 29th birthday anniversary parties usually at restaurants, then at 36, I started to focus on theme parties.

Don't cringe-- they've taken on a life of their own.

The first theme was "Party Like You're in College"- everyone wore their college shirts, we got a keg, there were jello shots and all the food came in a bag and was generic. To say it was fun, is an understatement.

Then there was the "Come Stand in my Kitchen and Drink" party-- actually there was no theme, but that's what happened. I think it was supposed to be Italian theme... oh well... it's a blur...

Then the cocktail/Rat Pack party. Everyone got all decked out- I had a beehive. I found out that I LOVE Harvey Wallbangers. Way too much fun.

Last year's theme was red. I had red balloons, sangria, red velvet cupcakes, everyone wore red. Again, fun. One of my friends who had never come before said "Now I get what the big deal is...."

This year's theme is Tacky Tiki - a cheesy luau party. Pina colada punch, mai tai's, pineapple, spam- and jello-- I always have jello at my parties.

My kids used to spend the night at my mother-in-law's, but starting last year, we let them stay. They stay upstairs and go to bed at 10 instead of 8. They have been excitedly helping me shop and get ready.

Now before you get this crazy idea that the party is this faboo catered affair- it's not. Not remotely. The food is good, but nothing special. I use paper plates and plastic cups-- it's down right tacky from a Society Page standard.

What makes my parties so much fun and makes everyone get excited about them is the fact that I have the coolest friends ever.

They embrace the theme. They come to have fun- not out of obligation or commitment. They are the most assorted group of characters you'll ever see. They are collected from various stages in my life. And if you haven't figured it out yet, I have a lot of hobbies. With that comes people from every walk of life. Throw them all in the room together (usually standing on each other in the kitchen) and it's simply magical.

I love how my kids peek down the stairs and see grown up's having fun- especially their parents. I hope that somehow they are learning the importance of having friends and staying young. That you don't necessarily have to wait to be invited to a party-- simply throw one. You don't have to be 21 to have a good time. I plan on having fun with my friends well into my 90's, should I be so fortunate. I want my kids to know that you make your own fun.

And I'm not uptight about hosting a party. My theory is if it's not perfect, my real friends don't care. And if someone does care, they're not my real friend so I don't care what they think. My parties are borderline tacky- Martha Stewart would cringe- but I also think Martha would have a blast. There are no caterers, no fancy invitations. The conversations are lively- there are no quiet moments or need for cocktail party conversation starter games. They aren't expensive, my house isn't immaculate, but I don't think I've met anyone yet who doesn't say "What are you doing next year??" on their way out the door.

My friends are one of my greatest gifts in life. I think my birthday is the perfect time to celebrate that. Every year I step to the side and watch all these fantastic people interact. My thoughts eventually turn to "Why does everyone cram into the kitchen....." but it still gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling. Often accentuated by alcohol, but not always.

So yes, you might think it's sad that I throw my own party. I would take your pity, but I'll be too busy having fun.

Losing Weight Publicly

2012-01-16T17:13:00.000-08:00

I started a weight loss blog and to be honest, it's been too hard to keep up on both, so I am now, officially combining them. As my friend Helen pointed out, losing weight is part of Mama Bean's World, so starting a second blog, just focused on it, might be hard. My thoughts were to separate them because I didn't want this blog to become a bitch session about weight loss.

Oddly, it's been going along okay and it really has been incorporated quite nicely into my "real" world.

So, as you may or may not know, I started Weight Watchers right before Labor Day. I'm down just over 10 pounds- nothing to write home about, right? Except here's the thing-- I'm fine with it. Most people gain 7 pounds over the holidays. I didn't. I've only had 2 weeks that I gained-- one week was only .2 lbs. I've had 4 that I stayed even. Other than that, I've been down every week- sometimes a 1.6 pounds, sometimes only .2, but I'm completely happy.

I would be lying if I didn't wish that something magically had happened and I was down 20 pounds. But here's the scoop-- I already was exercising and I already eat fairly healthy. Then why am I not skinny? Well, I gained my weight fairly slowly- except for one chunk of it. It was a lifestyle change. I always say that switching from black tea to coffee with creamer = 1 pound a month = 12 pounds a year = 60 pounds over 5 years. I also have a very sedentary lifestyle. Throw in having kids and even though I love, love, love working out, the time to do it has been limited. And those aren't excuses, they are facts. I used to work out at 5 am. My husband now teaches an early bird class and leaves the house at 5:45. I'm not working out at 4. I work too late to make that anything I would stick with. Trust me, I've lost lots of weight-- and I've gained it back and then some. Largely because I get all gung ho, start out with this killer work out plan and then either get hurt (ala my back) or get burned out.

This time, I very clearly decided to do it slowly, with a plan I can stick with. I add something every month. I am making small adjustments. I am going to my WW's meetings (I've only missed two). I'm fine. I'm keeping pace. My weight gain 2 weeks ago had me concerned--it was significant and literally over night. Let's just say, um, things have worked their way out. I've lost it all and then a little more. Fiber is my friend. And now I'll stop talking about it.

What is KILLING me is all the unsolicited advice I am getting.

Granted, I have made this public, so I expect to get "feedback." When I ask a question at a meeting, I like everyone's input. However, the constant insistence that I must be doing something wrong- not measuring, not tracking, not exercising-- it's annoying. I am. And hey, you know what? I AM losing weight. I am doing it slowly and permanently. My "bad" eating was limited to a few late nights a week of munching and not caring when I went out to eat 2-3 times a week. I now am more aware.

So if you want to give me advice please do not take time out of your day to explain that fruits and vegetables are healthier than ice cream. No shit. Or tell me that if I exercised more, I would lose more. Really? Golly gosh darn, I'd never heard THAT before....

Here are the tips that I've actually found useful:

Park at the end of the parking lot to force yourself to walk more.
Set up a puzzle to work on so when you have the munchies, you have something else to do (I did point out that I would still have a free hand to munch with....).
Go to bed early and read.
Write down what you're going to eat the night before so you'll tend to stick with it throughout the day.

Here's what I have not found useful:

You should measure your food. Thank you. I have a food scale. I've done this so long I could win a game show called "How much does that weigh?"
Count your points. Again, thank you. I pay $49 a month. I count my freaking points.
You should exercise more. Okay, Einstein, here's my week. If I exercise after 8 pm-- my only "alone" time- I will not be able to sleep. It does not make me tired. I get 3 hours of cardio in a week at a minimum.
You must not be tracking your exercise accurately. Yes, I am. I wear a heart rate monitor. I know when I dial it in (which some days I do) and that the fitter I get, the harder I need to work. It tracks that. While nothing is fool proof, I trust it more than your assessment from afar.
Work out at home. HA HA HA HA! I can't even take a dump without an interruption. Between an old dog that I've stepped on 100 times, a young dog that thinks I'm playing and 2 kids that suddenly find me the single most fascinating person person in the world--- it doesn't work for me. I'm happy it works for you. Not me. And I've tried it at 5 am. Same thing. It's frustrating and upsetting. I HAVE lowered the bar and now try to do a 10-20 minute Wii Fit. But even that is a struggle to do without ending it wanting to kick a pet or strangle a kid.
Anything cooking related. I don't own a deep fryer. I know how to prepare vegetables. The fact that YOU just figured out how to steam broccoli in the microwave, makes me laugh. I don't think I've ever served my children a canned fruit in my life. Sometimes I go on a kick and even make my own bread.
Don't eat fast food. Wait- you mean a cheeseburger, fries and a milkshake are bad for me??? Thank you for the enlightenment.

So if I seem a little pissy, it's just that this past week I got a barrage of helpful tips.

I appreciate that every one of them came from the heart. Truly, I do.

But, please, I'm good. I may need to vent here and there, but I'm good. It may take me 2 years to get all this weight off and I'M FINE WITH IT. I'm very truly changing my lifestyle. I don't have "my" food and then everyone else's food. We all eat the same, healthy food at dinner. I'm doing things I can stick with-- and sometimes that means having ice cream. Because you know what? If I ban it, the second I'm not "dieting" I will eat a ton of it. Exercise is the same thing-- I'm doing things that I love, not just like. If I love it, I will stick to it. Running (or my attempt at it- which looks like speed waddling) and eating non-fat nasty ass cheese are not going to work for me. Walking the dog and eating less of good cheese- that works. If that means it takes a little longer, so be it. And I refuse to eat diet foods. I need to break the habit of eating cookies, ice cream, crackers-- period. The diet foods only make me miss the real version more.

It may sound like I'm being obstinate, but I'm not. I'm being realistic. I know me better than anyone else. If I ask for your advice, I want your input. If I don't ask, I don't want it. And if you've never had to lose weight- and I don't mean 15 pounds after having a baby-- SHUT UP. You have no idea what it's like. Period. You know how to stay fit. It's completely and totally different. Trust me.

Besides, at the end of the day, what I'm doing is working. And that's all that matters to me.

The reason I'm sharing this journey is because I hope, at the end of the day, my "little steps" process makes sense for others trying to lose a lot of weight. It's not all or nothing. It's really something is better than nothing, but adjust your expectations. And stick with it. I have no doubt that I will be at a healthy weight a year from now. No doubt. It will definitely take another year to "get in shape"- but I will easily make my goal of being in my weight range in another year.

And I hope that if you aren't happy with your weight, you will join me! I love that I have 3 friends that are losing weight and I was what got them started. I LOVE it. My little engine that could attitude- not an Jillian in your face attitude- motivated them.

Because I can do this. I will do this. I am doing this.

My Barista in Flannel

2012-01-10T23:33:00.000-08:00

My husband as a new obsession.

Coffee.

And it is hilarious.

I would say I take full responsibility, but I don't. His switch from beer to wine, is completely my fault. This, however, I did not see coming.

I am not a huge coffee drinker. In fact, I came to coffee later in the game. I was a die hard tea drinker and gradually converted over to coffee. I am a one cup a day girl.

In fact, we got a very cool brew and grind coffee maker for our wedding 10 years ago. Up until about a year ago, it was at my office. We had it at the house, but used it so rarely, I just took it to the office.

Then my husband discovered the caramel macchiato at The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. I am a vanilla latte or tea latte girl. I started going to either The Coffee Bean or Starbucks on my pay day. I figured, during the poor years, if one day I could afford to spend $4 on a cup of coffee without being stressed, I would have "made" it.

I had no idea that my casual treat would become an addiction for my husband.

He discovered the Skinny Caramel Macchiato at Starbucks. There was a drive thru on the way to work. And here the addiction began.

Then, we got a Breville for the office and the coffee maker came home. I assumed it would go into the pantry and pulled out for special events. After all, my husband HATES appliances on the counter. The toaster, the mixer- everything used to be carefully stored.

But no.... our coffee maker suddenly made it's way on to the counter.

It should have been a sign of what was to come....

I had a french press for the times when I wanted coffee at home. But I thought, okay, what the heck.

We used it so much that it broke (if you're a regular reader, the fact that my husband killed a kitchen appliance is not a shock). To his credit, it was 10 years old- pretty good track record. We couldn't find a grind and brew replacement. Then we were out at Fry's, saw an cappuccino/espresso/coffee pot combo and brought it home.

And he put it on the counter.

And of course we had to get a coffee grinder because he really liked the freshly ground coffee. No joke.

And he put that on the counter, too.

The good news, I used these appliances as leverage to get my toaster oven....

The bad news, I'm not particularly a fan of appliances on the counter either.

My husband became a full fledged barista. We now have 6 bottles of Torani syrup in the cupboard-- not one, not two, SIX.

My husband cared for this machine as if it were a Porsche.

Then it died.

And he was sad.

I bought an Aeroccino per my friend Candi's recommendation. It quietly and quickly makes frothed milk for lattes and cappuccino. He didn't understand how we could still make coffee.

I introduced him to the French Press that I had been using for the past few years, apparently unnoticed.

Ahhh... a new way to imbibe.

But alas, he was still not satisfied. It wasn't strong enough. The man who used to say coffee tastes like dirt. And trust me, if you'd have my french pressed coffee, it is very strong.

For the past few weeks, he's been surfing the net, hanging out in appliance sections- it's been hilarious. He is not a metrosexual. He is a giant man who likes to shoot firearms. Looking for the perfect cappuccino maker- never saw it coming. The man wears flannel.

I finally suggested that rather than take out a second mortgage on our house to get a full fledged coffee system (and taking up our counter space which was now driving ME nuts), he buy the stove top version.

Again, he was mesmerized.

I said "You know, make coffee on the stove- that's how my grandma did it."

So now he discovered the Moka- a stove top espresso maker. The old fashioned kind. He is in heaven. He was concerned that it didn't make enough. I explained that it was espresso- you serve it in tiny cups, not giant tumblers. And even better-- it doesn't sit on the counter!

Sadly, we tested it out last night. At 7 pm.

So at midnight, we were lying in bed, WIDE AWAKE.

I told him that I was concerned, I thought he may have a problem. If you've seen the Will Ferrell scenes in "Kicking and Screaming," he's about 2 steps from this. I apologized for introducing him to coffee. I had no idea. I had been a casual drinker for years. I can handle it. I didn't realize he couldn't.

The good news, he makes a mean hazelnut latte. Delish.

The bad news, when he talks about frothy and full-bodied, he's not talking about me any more!

Kindle versus "real" Books

2012-01-06T21:34:00.000-08:00

If you know me, you know I am a voracious reader.

Seriously.

I mean it.

I know a lot of people who say they "read."

I usually ask what they've read lately-- because I'm always into reading something new and different.

When they say "I read yada yada a few months ago..." I stop listening.

Or when people ask me about joining the book group that I'm in, I ask "How many books did you read last month?"

If their eyes get BIG and they are stunned that we meet every month and read a book, I just make up some vague excuse about how we're "full."

Everyone in the book group is a voracious reader. We all read the monthly book and then a few more.

Books are my crack.

My husband knows this. He asked me if I wanted a Kindle a few years ago. They were $500. That buys a LOT of books. Plus, I am a purist. I didn't want to give up my books. Well, Christmas of 2010, they had dropped to $129. I told him go ahead. If I didn't like it, I would give it my kids (both avid- not quite voracious yet- readers).

I did not like it. It reminded me of my blackberry and I felt like I should be working. Between the computer, my blackberry for work, my Android-- I was teched out, so to speak.

My 76 year old client a few weeks later, was asking me what I was reading. We started talking about my new Kindle. She LOVED her Kindle. She has no idea how to use a computer and yet here she was, embracing technology. She gave me some tips--

First, she said, you have to adjust the font type to something you like. Then, adjust the font size. Then the spacing. And she suggested that I buy a cover with a book light on it. She said it would feel more like a book.

Wow.

I found out that I am a sans serif kind of girl. I like a little bigger font and a little more space when I read. Those reading glasses I was considering? Put on the back burner for now.

I traveled for business quite a bit last year and it was great to have it with me-- with the exception of short flights. Since it's an "electronic device" I couldn't use it during take-off's and landings. That sorta sucks.

I love that I can download any book any time. I can even check books out from the library.

So, with that said, I asked to be upgraded to the Kindle Fire for Christmas this year. I wanted it to do a little more-- you know, so I could waste even MORE time on Facebook--- anyhow, while I love everything my Fire does, I have to say, I prefer the older ink based model for reading. It's just easier on my eyes.

There I go again, hanging on to the past.

What I do like about having 2 now, is that I can keep one upstairs on my nightstand and the other downstairs. If I connect to the wireless before I turn it off, I can sync where I am on one device, and open up to the where I left off on the other.

How freaking cool is that???

And here's the funny thing-- I still have a few books I need to finish. And me, the lover of all things book, the purist, now hates to read "real" books- they seem so heavy and cumbersome. Talk about a conversion of spirit.

With that said, it still saddens me a little. I like my book shelves lined with books. I tend to give away books and this makes it harder. I wonder what libraries will look like in the future-- I spent the large portion of my childhood in the stacks of our county library. Will my grandchildren know that amazing smell? Will textbooks go electronic? Will the slate tablets of the past be replaced with tablet computers? Will it make it easy for me to self publish? Will it result in a lot of amateur writers clogging the shelves with self-published books?

E-readers have been around for quite some time now. They have clearly taken off this year more than ever. Kinda like how a few people had cell phones 10 years ago, and now everyone has one. Even second graders. It's a transition period, most definitely. Amazon has figured it out- it now costs more for e-copies than paperbacks.

So part of me feels guilty for embracing this new technology and possibly adding to the end of a very wonderful part of my own personal history. The other part is happy to have access to unlimited titles, flexibility, portability and a whole world of knowledge and stories to explore.

In the end, I am simply a voracious reader. I will take my crack any way I can get it.

Robert Reich (The Decline of the Public Good)

2012-01-05T05:12:00.000-08:00

Robert Reich (The Decline of the Public Good)

A Year in Review

2011-12-30T10:25:00.000-08:00

Since next year is the end of the world, I thought I might take some time to revisit this past, last year.

It was a hot/cold year for us. Overall, I would have to say a good year- we're all here at the end, gainfully employed in careers we love, kids are doing well. If you dissect it, piece by piece, it looks bad on paper.

The first six months sucked at my work. I could not, for the life of me, find someone who would show up on time and work. I am not a micro-manager. People always say they hate when they are micromanaged, however, I have learned that some people never grow up and need constant monitoring. I am not willing to do it. Next, please. In June, I finally found someone fantastic. This made for the first six months basically being a blur and the next 5 months playing catch up. Not a terrific year if you look at "the numbers." But again, on the flip side, I really enjoyed the year. I spent more time doing what I loved at the office, streamlined a lot of systems and am very excited about 2012, Armageddon be damned.

My husband had a miserable summer. His first summer without having to take classes in 10 years and it was filled with my reduction surgery, lice (did I mention in the blog that we had a few run-in's with lice this summer? If we didn't call for playdates, now you know why), broken bones, sick kids.... not great. But he loves the classes he teaches, he had some fantastic students, and he works with some wonderful colleagues. And some not so wonderful colleagues.

And the broken bones. My poor daughter broke both bones in her lower leg on our first day of vacation. She spent a month in a wheelchair, another few weeks in a walking cast. Then for one entire week we were good to go. Then my son broke his arm. It truly slowed us down. We used to swim every night in the summer. Nope. We used to bike ride every weekend. Nope. It's been hard to get back off the couch. The second my back started feeling better and I was good to go, the broken bones started.

But again, everything happens for a reason. We were probably a bit overscheduled. Between soccer and swimming and dance lessons, there was very little time to hang out. Because we couldn't do any of it, we had a lot of good family time together. Even better, everyone healed and their bones are truly even stronger than before.

Our summer vacation sorta sucked, but our spring break trip was flawless (except for my issue with the towels-- the hotel ran out of towels- really?). Shane and I both lost some weight, gained some back, lost a little more and are ending the year a little lighter. And so the year went.

So if I truly had to sum up, it was a perfectly balanced year. A little good, a little bad. Nothing fantastic, nothing horrific. After the last few years, balanced and even a little boring is okay by me.

I don't know what 2012 holds- perhaps Armageddon, perhaps great fortune, perhaps something life changing or perhaps more of the same.

While I'm not a resolution setter, I am an optimist. A new year is like crack for me-- it's the present under the tree Christmas Eve. The anticipation of what's in the package is often better than the actual gift.

So when the ball drops, or in Vegas when the fireworks go off, I'll be ripping the paper off the new year- anxious to see where it leads and completely content if I simply circle back to where I am today.

Happy Holidays

2011-12-26T17:35:00.000-08:00

Uh oh, from all the Facebook updates I've seen, that hideous phrase incites anger in millions.

Yes, Happy Freaking Holidays.

I have been living under a rock somewhere and did not realize that saying this greeting offends my Christian friends.

Oh wait, I'm Christian, I'm not offended....

In fact, I have to say that having someone wish me ANYTHING happy makes me smile.

So what's the big deal about this phrase that irritates people so much?

From what I can gather, people feel that it takes away from the true meaning of Christmas, the birth of Christ.

How?

Christmas is one day. And hey, here's a historical fact, Christ wasn't actually born on December 25th. It's an old pagan holiday that once the Roman emperor decided to "go Christian" for political purposes, he declared was now the day set aside to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Everyone already had the day off. Kinda like President's Day and Martin Luther King Day- not Washington, Lincoln, or King's actual birthdays. A date of convenience.

And besides, I think Macy's, Wal-Mart and every other retailer has adequately destroyed the true meaning of Christmas many years ago- not that horrible saying of -- hang on, here I go again "Happy Holidays." Gives you shivers doesn't it?

When I tell someone "Happy Holidays" (sorry, I can't stop myself) it's for a two reasons. The first one, I mean it as an all encompassing greeting that covers the time period from Thanksgiving through New Year's. As in the holiday season. I'm not just wishing you one day of good wishes, I'm giving you an ENTIRE season of yuletide cheer. And yesterday, Christmas Day, I said Merry Christmas to everyone. I, however, intend to spend the rest of the week celebrating the wonderful holiday season. Again, I waited until Thanksgiving to start, so if you're a Christmas Lights Up November 1st person, I'm guessing you're burned out. I like to pace myself. (And FYI, the Twelve Days of Christmas are supposed to be celebrated AFTER Christmas, awaiting the arrival of the wise men.)

The second reason I say it, I have friends of many faiths. No kidding. I'm crazy like that. I even have friends who are Hindu. Wow. And they are all citizens of my wonderful country. I think it's what makes my country wonderful. I love that my country was founded as a place to avoid religious persecution. You can be yourself here. That's not the case in a lot of places. The former Soviet Union, China-- for many years banned religions. Even they realized they couldn't destroy faith.

And you know what, with that said, if you want to put a nativity scene on government property, go for it. Religious freedom allows it- calls for it even. The separation of church and state doesn't mean the elimination of church from state. It simply says the doctrine of a faith shouldn't override what's in the best interest of society. I agree. There are some crazy religions out there. Ask people under Taliban rule. Ask Iranians. It happens. My only request is, if someone wants to put up a menorah, you have to be good with that, too.

I also find it ironic that I have never had a Jewish friend or non-Christian friend be remotely offended when someone wishes them a Merry Christmas. I've even asked if they are put off by my Christmas cards. Their overwhelming opinion "Um, I'm kinda used to it. No biggie." But holy crap (literally), if I say "Happy Holidays" some people want to call me a heretic and burn me at the stake.

I never get offended when someone of another faith says a prayer or offers blessings and kindness to me and my family. I'll take whatever I can get. I think it's a sign of love and friendship.

So here's the scoop folks, if I happen to say "Happy Holidays" to you it's with the sole purpose of wishing you and your family, regardless of your religion, the same joy and love that my family feels during this time of year, relax. There is no politically correct undercurrent of me, trying to destroy your faith. Let's face it, if your faith is that shallow, you should probably work on that.

And the next time someone says something nice, from the heart, that you find offensive, I hope you take the time to get the stick out of your ass and simply say "Thank you."

My children and I in front of the Christmas tree. We are inadvertently blocking the Nativity-- it is by accident. Not a statement of protest in my support of people having a Happy Holiday.

A Year of Blogging

2011-12-21T20:28:00.000-08:00

A year ago I decided to start blogging.

I never really understood why anyone would want to blog. The reason I was motivated to start Mama Bean's World was because I started to notice that people's parents were requesting to friend me on Facebook. People I had never met-- not the parents whose kitchens I hung out in as a kid, but complete strangers. When I would ask their child "Why does your mom want to be my friend?" I found out it was because my status updates were being quoted. Their parent thought I was funny, and hence the friend request.

So I started making my updates a little longer.

Then I thought, hmmmm.... if people find me this entertaining, I might as well start a blog and see how it goes.

I started with about 20 friends who read it. By the end of the month, it had grown to 75.... now I get about 1,200-1,500 hits a month. My readers are from all over the world. Some, I know exactly how they found me, my readers in Malaysia- no idea, but hey, welcome to my world.

I found out that although I often feel alone in my thoughts or stuck in my life, I'm anything but unique. My stories ring true with many. My daily frustrations are shared. My dreams are common. My politics, well, that might be a different story, but I hope I bring a wider perspective to people who maybe think differently than me. Or, perhaps, the realization that the US isn't nearly as divided as you might think.

I'm limited on commenting on many things, due to the nature of my job. The positive impact of that has been that I've really been able to look back and see, over the past year, that I am substantially more than a job title. My position as a mother, a wife, a citizen, clearly is more important than my business card. I'm not sure if I appreciated that as much last year.

I started writing this as something fun to do. I have always wanted to be a writer. I took a writing class about 8 years ago and the instructor said the best way to improve your writing is to simply write. Every day. With free blog space, it's much easier to do. My hopes, of course, is that my blog goes viral and I can somehow turn it into something more-- but for now, it serves it purpose. I get to write funny stories about my life, share my opinions and improve my writing. It's been far more cathartic than I would have thought. I have records of the silly things that happen to me and my kids will be able to read them and laugh long after I'm gone. Maybe someday Oprah will read it and I'll have my own talk show, but honestly, life is pretty darn good as it is.

People who don't know my kids may question some of my stories. Trust me- they are as I write them. They are terrific little philosophers. They are bright little buggers. They also love to help me blog. Sometimes when they do something they tell me "Mom, you HAVE to blog about this." I love it. My interview with my son? He sat on the desk next to me, and I asked him the questions. They help me edit. So please don't worry that my new hobby is taking away precious time from my family. It's not. As I always say, I don't watch much TV, so I spend that time on Facebook playing Scrabble or blogging. My kids are fine. My daughter is snuggled next to me while she gives play by play commentary on my son playing Wii. My husband appreciates the quiet time when I write. I had two of my neighbors both comment recently about what a kick they get out of my blogs since they know the kids and often witness our antics first hand.

And my husband has also been a great advocate of my new hobby. He gives me honest feedback on my blogs- he has his favorites. I never write anything about him without having him approve it first. My comment about his Destructo Man Hands is now a common phrase in our household. He is making me a cappuccino now. I hope he doesn't break anything.

And as for me, I have loved every minute of it. One of my favorite moments in the blogosphere was when my friend Julie saw my blog posted on the wall of her friend. When she asked her friend how she knew me, she didn't. She had gotten it from a friend of a friend of a friend--- very cool. It is very strange to be quoted-- I run into people and they tell me they use some of my catch phrases. It's really fun.

I love that my cousins read my blog. We haven't done the best job staying in touch over the years and we were all fairly close growing up. It's nice to see them share and comment on it. Truly nice. They are all terrific people and it's fun to see how we still have so much in common.

My most popular blogs are a recent one I wrote in support of gay marriage and the letter that I wrote to my children last year on Mother's Day. As much as people love the goofy ones where everything in my day falls apart, it's my more thoughtful, political ones that get more traffic. I find that interesting. I think my passion about compassion comes through in those.

My favorite blogs are usually about my husband. I loved the one where I complained about how he breaks everything I own (and to his defense, he says he also breaks everything HE owns-- he just showed me a new shirt he bought that I need to fix because he tore it- like I said I can't make this stuff up) and my all-time favorite is the story about when we signed up for E-Harmony.

I would love to go viral and have 1,000,000 readers, but honestly, I figured 10-20 friends would be all that read it to begin with. It has exceeded my expectations, but I'm competitive.

But at the end of the day, I did this to have fun, to find my voice and to have some documentation of my existence. I have achieved all of these goals.

Thank you so much to everyone for reading! I will keep on writing as long as you keep on reading!

My Awesome Daughter

2011-12-21T14:52:00.000-08:00

I had planned on writing a blog about my daughter on her 6th birthday regardless of the past 24 hours. Yesterday, my facebook status:

Happy 6th Birthday to my very beautiful, funny, smart, outgoing, vivacious, sweet, kind, silly, confident, loving, AMAZING little girl. You are truly my role model.

Sappy, I know, but the truth.

When I write about my daughter Zoe, I want you to know that I am being completely and totally honest- except about her name. But truly, she is a pip. Two of my neighbors told me recently that they can "hear" my kids in my blogs. I swear I am not creative enough to make up the things they say.

I think what makes my daughter so special is that since birth, she's sparkled. Not in the "LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!" way, but in the way that she inherently knows she is terrific. She was not a pretty newborn- she had the world's largest cheeks, baby acne-- but still she drew people in. When she was 6 months old, she would make faces in the mirror to crack herself up. I used to say we lived with a baby Gilda Radner-- her expressions and timing were perfect.

But what really amazes me most about my baby girl and why I really DO want to be her when I grow up, is her quiet confidence. She is very comfortable being herself.

In pre-school, they have windows to observe. One day I thought I should drop in and see how she was doing. She said one little girl was mean because she wouldn't let her hug her. Zoe is VERY affectionate and touchy. I am not, so I could see where the girl was coming from. I asked the mom about it and she laughed and said her daughter was really freaked out by it. And of course, my baby girl then became obsessed with hugging her. As I watched through the window, Zoe began her attack, the other little girl said something and Zoe looked like her heart was broken. It killed me to see her like that. Then, about 30 seconds later, she started making faces and doing a funny dance. She got them laughing and the next thing you know, they were all playing together-- no drama.

That was the moment I knew I didn't need to worry about my daughter. She had found a way to fit in-- her sense of humor. She was 3 1/2.

I asked her once what made her so happy. She smiled, but her hand on hip, threw the other hand in the air and said "Me. I make me happy." Truer words were never spoken.

She also isn't afraid to ask for what she wants.

When she was 4, we were at Kennywood. She and her brother were waiting for the kiddie ferris wheel. Zoe asked if they could ride in the pink car. If it had been me, green being my favorite color, I would have stood there chanting in my head "I hope I get the green one. I hope I get the green one," and if I didn't, I would have solemnly gotten into whatever. The ride operator said sure, let a few people go in front of her (which she had no problem waiting for what she wanted), and she rode in the pink car. With my son who is like me and never thought to ask.

Every time we go somewhere and they give her crayons or a balloon, she always asks for pink or purple. But the best part- if they don't have it, she doesn't throw a fit, she says thank you and takes what they have.

Apparently, it's easier to get what you want if you actually ask for it. And if it doesn't work out, go with it. Hmmm... interesting concept...

She is a blast to hang out with-- I can take her anywhere. In fact, the last time she had a temper tantrum was 2 years ago at the pottery place when she learned that they would be putting the worm she had painted into a kiln to fire it. I can't say I blame her for freaking out.

My daughter is an original. She is spunky, yet gracious. She is confident, yet kind. She is funny, but not obnoxious. She is creative, but not flaky. She is a loyal friend, but also calls a friend out when they are doing something wrong.

She is everything I could ever dream of her becoming-- and she is 6 years old.

I feared having a daughter. I am not a girly girl. My son and I are a good team. What I did not count on was how much I would learn from her-- she is magical. I smile more since she's been in my life. A lot more.

So when you see my posts on Facebook that I want to be my daughter when I grow up, it's because she just did something that I wouldn't have the nerve to do- not at 6, not at 41.

She is my hero and I adore her.

Happy Birthday!

The Last 24 Hours

2011-12-19T22:13:00.000-08:00

Okay, so after my very uplifting blog about my awesome friend Renee, the past 24 hours have left me somewhat exhausted.

The mission work went off without a hitch. Well organized, great group of people. Yeah us!

I picked up my daughter and since I hadn't eaten all day and was starving and we are having a girls' week while the boys are off hunting (don't get any ideas-- we have an alarm system...), I thought it would be fun to have rootbeer floats for dinner.

And cheese curds.

Oops. Apparently, at Grandma's (she watched her while I was off saving the world), she had made cookies, eaten some batter-- had a fantastic day with Grandma.

My daughter is the kid who loves to eat fruit and has been known to turn down ice cream. She is NOT a junk food kid.

So at 2 am, she barfed. Twice. And went back to sleep.

Luckily, she is crashing in my bed while the boys are gone.

I was awakened by the stench.

In my bed.

I woke her up-- happy she hadn't choked. Started the bath water and began to strip the bed while trying NOT to barf. If you don't have children and think that there is some sort of magic shield that makes your child's vomit not gag you, you are mistaken. It's just as gross as if someone on a plane next to you did it.

She was a good sport- hopped right into the bath tub and washed herself up. I started the washer.

Here's my first gripe- our washer SUCKS. I think it handles about 3 socks at a time.

My next gripe- we have a GIANT California King bed. This is what happens when you marry someone 6'5"- your furniture looks like something from up the beanstalk.

Combine the two gripes and you can't just simply throw everything into the washer.

Oh- and it soaked through the mattress pad all the way to the cover.

This equates to 4 separate loads.

And the bedroom is upstairs. The washer and dryer are downstairs.

And if you've followed my blog, you know I have an old dog Charlie whose body is giving up before his mind. He also is attached to me. When I go up or down the stairs, because he no longer can join me, he either a) whines like he's been hit by a car (how dare I desert him) or b) throws himself up or down the stairs in what can only be described as the most painful process I've ever witnessed. If I say things like "Stay there-- I'll be right back " it makes no difference. If I say "Shut the hell up- I'm coming right back after I get rid of the pukey sheets!" it also makes no difference.

And of course, as my daughter is bathing, my old dog, who also has, um bowel issues, has taken a dump in the bathroom.

So it's 2:15 am, I have a naked 5 year old in a bathtub, a 14 year old dog whining and crapping, and I'm trying to shove the sheets (after scraping off vomit) into my washer made for Lilliputians.

On a positive note, I realized that I had forgotten to take out the garbage...

I finally get back upstairs to find that the old STUPID dog has made it halfway down the stairs. I get to carry him back up and finally clean up his shit (at least it was nice and firm-- sadly that is a bright spot).

Now I'm on to combing out vomit from my daughter's hair. She is continuing to be a good sport:

"Look, Mommy, it's night time!"

Yes, yes, it is.

I get her all situated, depukified, dressed and off to bed in her room, because my bed is off limits. We only have 1 mattress cover and 1 mattress pad because we rarely vomit in bed. The kids all have back up's. Anyhow, my room smells like vomit, so I Febreze it to death and immediately start sneezing.

The sheets are done, so then I move on to the mattress cover - since I can't do anything until the bottom layer is done.

Charlie, the old dog, of course is whining and starts to roll down the stairs. AAAHHH. I get him halfway and take him outside. He doesn't have to pee. He just wanted some company.

Then I see Dixie, the young healthy dog, tear past us with a doll.

So I chase her. It's 3 am.

I try to get the doll- back-- I hear my daughter yelling "DIXIE HAS MY DOLL!!!!"-

So now I'm chasing her around the backyard using the verbal skills I acquired in a prior life as a drunken sailor and the dog thinks I want to play. I'm tired, smell like vomit and really don't have time for this.

I retrieve the doll, tuck my baby back in and then go to start the next load.

Now there is water all over the floor.

The stupid GIANT mattress cover was too much for the washer.

At this point I decided to grab a hard lemonade. I have drank alone exactly one other time in my life. I went on Facebook to lament. And people found it funny.

Those great friends I chatted about in my last blog?? Same people who laughed at my misery.

And I realized I had left Charlie downstairs. Whining.

So halfway through the lemonade, I decided I am not the type to drink alone, it's 4:30 am (I had to mop up the floor), I trudged back down the stairs to get my moronic old dog who hates to admit that I have to carry him and I decided to crash on the couch. I think I finally fell asleep around 5:30 or so.

Then my friend Renee called at 8 am to thank me for helping yesterday. She logically assumed that since I had kids, it was a weekday that I would be awake. I told her normally that would be a safe assumption...

Once we chatted, I checked out the condition of the washer, figured it was a balance issue (which I could relate to completely) and threw in the last load.

I spent the rest of the morning wrestling with the @((#*&$(*&# mattress cover on the #(*$&#(*$& ginormous bed. Picture me, exhausted, holding one corner down, then running around to the opposite corner before the last one pops up since I can't reach both sides at once... thank goodness my daughter was sleeping or she would have learned some new language- similar to what my neighbors heard at 3 am.

The good news, I have a coffee maker and I didn't have to go to work. I was able to finish up everything in my jammies and my assistant is doing everything else.

Even better, my daughter just had the Too Much Junk Food flu, was completely fine and kept me laughing all day. We made cupcakes for her birthday tomorrow. We saw "Chipwrecked"-- not the best movie to see if you're exhausted-- the shrill Chipmunk voices (and there are fewer people in this one, I think) are like nails on a chalkboard. But she loved it. We had a great dinner. We bought some cool stuff for her "girls night" birthday tomorrow with her best friends. When we were icing the cupcakes before bed, she licked the bowl. We had a "sample" one and she stopped halfway through and said "Mommy, I think I had enough with the icing..."

She is now in my bed, with a bucket and a towel next to her.

Wish me luck.

My Crazy Friend Renee

2011-12-18T18:16:00.000-08:00

I have a crazy friend Renee.

When they first moved to Las Vegas, they were so compelled to do something about the homelessness and poverty that plagued their new home that they drove around and gave out meals from their car.

Then she offered to help with the City Mission.

Before you knew it, she was providing care packages, homemade cookies, etc etc to nearly 1,000 homeless people.

She coordinated with some local businesses, but in general, she did nearly all of it on her own.

HER OWN.

I told you she was crazy.

She has a group of friends from her Bunko group, her husband Dave and her sister Lynette (also a fantastic crazy person) who help. And she gets me involved from time to time.

This is how she got me to get involved this year:

In November I get this call:

"Hey, I know you're into all this charitable shit, so you're helping me serve dinner to 300 people at the Casa de Luz down behind the Stratosphere. Okay, here's what I need you to do...."

Did I mention she's from the Bronx?

So since yes, I am into charitable shit, I said sure. Sorta. I think I said sure. To be honest, we were not going to be in town this weekend, but hey, all plans are adjustable, right?

I played a VERY small role in this event. I cooked a few turkeys, as did many of the other people. I made some broth. I bought some dressing and way too much cranberry sauce. I put out the info to my friends. Donna made the corn (which turned oddly to be a HUGE hit on the seconds-- many people passed on the first round, only to come back for giant quantities!). Shana, Tessa, Caroline and Jan all showed up to help. Kari and her company Retro Bakery, made 300 cupcakes.

Renee did cookie bags. She made the gravy FROM SCRATCH. The stuffing, too. She made these amazing sweet potatoes over the past month with a whiskey sauce. She made creamy mashed potatoes from scratch. For a month she's been peeling, mashing, baking, slicing, dicing-- all for a meal for people who were used to potatoes from a box, processed turkey, stuffing from a box-- institutionalized soup kitchen meals. Not to knock the meals- I appreciate they need to make the most of very little--but everything was HOMEMADE.

Her theory is that just because you're homeless, doesn't mean you need to eat crap.

She also stepped it up a notch and provided table service, rather than the degrading food line.

Even better was watching Renee interact with the people we were there to serve. One gentleman was throwing a fit because he didn't want to wait. Rather than be put off (I was ready to clock the guy), she put her arm around him and got him a plate. He came back for seconds and then thirds and was an entirely different, gracious man.

It wasn't the food. It was the kindness. But I should also point out, the food was insanely good, too. The woman can cook.

She also coordinated with the Venetian and Palazzo for the coat drive, the blankets, the toiletry bags... and on and on and on and on.

My favorite line of the day was from the very skinny man who was clearly an alcoholic. He had a HUGE smile-- you could tell he appreciated that the food was homemade- and he said while getting his third plate "This fills me up way more than Bartles & James!" And he thanked us.

So today I worked at a mission in the worst part of town. And I was reminded that the person's who birth we celebrate this week was really on to something. We fed the poor in the parking lot of a muffler and tire shop- coordinated by one person- not an agency. Not by a huge mega church in a multi-million dollar facility that spends more time preaching about the word of God than doing anything remotely related to making the world a better place. Yes, the pastor blessed everyone, but that was about it for the preaching. No judgments. No doctrine other than kindness.

After all, isn't being kind and loving one another what it's all about?

It is to me.

And I have to say, as I watched Renee and all my friends interact with the people whose lives had taken a different turn for whatever reason, I felt like the richest woman in the world- with friends like this, I will never be alone.

Merry Christmas!

For more information on Casa de Luz, please click here.

The Many Ways I Fail at Making Christmas Magical

2011-12-16T17:10:00.000-08:00

I was reminded today at how I really disappoint at Christmas time. I read a hilarious blog about those stupid Elf on Shelf things.

Over Achieving Elf on the Shelf Mommies

I think the things are freakish and creepy. I pointed out that if they had been called Odd Metrosexual in Unitard Child Stalkers they would not have been quite so popular.

Wow. People LOVE their elves.

I apparently am Scrooge. My friends on Facebook politely defended their little buddy.

Well, here's the scoop, while I do enjoy the holiday season, I prefer Thanksgiving and Halloween over Christmas. No pressure. They are one day events. I can handle one day.

Christmas falls at a bad time of year for me. My daughter's birthday is the 20th, so I'm always trying to pull something out of my butt to make it look special and not over done by Christmas. It's also the end of the year for my business, so I'm hurrying to make sure all those silly things that MUST get done, get done. Real things that if they don't get done, I can get fined or penalized. Kinda sucks the fun out of it.

Then throw in the fact that the entire point of the holiday has now become shopping (something I hate) and decorating (not my forte)-- it's starting to wane a tad as "the most wonderful time of the year."

So here are the ways that I really screw up at making Christmas extra special:

Gifts
My kids barely get squat for Christmas. Seriously. They get 2 gifts from Santa, a gift from my husband and me and some stuff in their stockings like socks, an activity book and a yo-yo. Between all the relatives, they are happily gifted. I do go out of my way to make sure they get something they like. But I swear to you, that's it. I normally wrap gifts and keep them at my office. I had a friend ask "Where are the rest of them?" She further freaked when I explained that was ALL the gifts- aunts, cousins, nieces, nephew, etc. My mother-in-law asked one Christmas if that was it. When I said yes, she sorta nodded. I realized it was because she personally had gotten them more than we had. I was COMPLETELY fine with this. I supply the little folks all year with things like lunches, clothing, tuition---- I'm totally fine if someone else wants to buy them extra stuff.

Fortunately, there is enough of a break before school starts that they don't even remember enough to talk to other kids. If they did, they would know they got screwed.

Decorating
My husband does 90% of it. He is color blind. Enough said.

The only thing I contribute is hanging the wreath out of the teeny tiny ledge on our second story. This is the second year that I have done it without using profanity in front of my children. Hey, you have your freaking elf, we have our OWN traditions... Mommy talking like a sailor while suspended out a window for all the neighborhood to hear is ours.

Cookies
My grandma made a million cookies. Before I had kids, I used to make cookie baskets for all my clients. I make very delicious cookies.

I now have children. I am fat. We'll make sugar cookies 2 days before Christmas.

At some point it hit me, as I screamed at my children and my feet were aching while I was trying to unjam the cookie press "Why am I doing this?"

I'll tell you why- because I like to eat them. To paraphrase our Weight Watcher's leader- I've already eaten enough cookies in my lifetime.

I also was wound waaaaaay too tightly about it. Now, if the sugar cookies come out ugly, I just tell everyone the kids decorated them. Even when it's the ones I decorated.

So Grandma, I'm sorry. Not this year.

Shopping
Amazon. I click. I pay. It shows up on my door step. What a beautiful, beautiful thing.

I Say No
We don't go to every party to which we're invited. It's not to be rude, it's just that we can't. We used to run around complaining about all the parties we had. Then last year, we seriously had none. It was as if the karmic gods had heard us bitching. So this year, when the invitations started rolling in, we picked the ones we wanted or needed to go to and that was it.

Traditions
Aside from my potty mouth, we don't really have any traditions. We don't have an elf on the shelf. We don't all snuggle in bed the night before reading "Polar Express" or "'Twas the Night Before Christmas." We don't have a Christmas Count Down Clock. Every year it's a bit of a crap shoot. Some years we go on the Polar Express. We went caroling last year- that sorta sucked because none of the kids know Christmas carols since they can't sing them at school any more. Our holiday activities are a result of how tired we are, if we have any money and if the kids are behaving. Who knows? Maybe the free for all holiday thing IS our tradition. Oh- wait- I do force my family to watch "A Christmas Story." Is there truly any better holiday movie??

The Christmas Brag Letter
I did one, once, about 11 years ago when I couldn't STAND reading another bullsh*t letter from friends about their perfect lives. I had had a bad year. I shared this with everyone. It was HILARIOUS. My aunts were concerned. A friend from college said he was framing it. It was darkly disturbed and bitter- the only honest one he had gotten. I also hate when people only send pictures of their children- particularly people I haven't seen in years. I don't know your children. I will probably never meet them. I just assume you've gotten really fat if you don't include yourself in the family photo. Or gone bald. I'm sure you didn't include THAT in your letter...

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

With all this said, what can I say? I suck at the traditional American Christmas. I love the lights, the music, the time with my family, but I'm not going to shove it down everyone's throat until they feel the same. My husband noticed that last year I actually donated more gifts than I gave to our family. He thought it was pretty awesome. It's why I love him. With the exception of a very nice Dora dress, my kids also thought it was terrific. This year, we're helping a friend make and serve dinner at a rescue mission. I think it's really the whole point of the season. Today was the only day I've been remotely stressed and it all turned out okay.

So God bless all you overachievers out there with your classy cocktail parties, meticulous decorations, perfectly wrapped presents, homemade goodies out the ying yang, and an attic full of "perfect" presents. Knock yourselves out.

As for me, I will be kicking back, have some egg nog and truly have a very merry, albeit low key Christmas.

Ivon

2011-12-09T23:10:00.001-08:00

This week I'm stealing someone else's story- a friend of mine, Ivon.

I met Ivon about a year ago. She was in my husband's mock trial class. He invited me to come watch the trials. He had a group of students that he was very proud of and he thought I'd enjoy it. I took the morning off and went to watch.

My husband was right to be proud. Two of the students caught my attention- Ivon and Christian. The other students were good, but they both stood out in my mind. I had met Christian earlier (he is now a student at Penn in the very selective Huntsman program), but Ivon I had only known from the stories my husband shared. At break, I asked him "Who is that sassy girl? I love her-- she's one smart cookie." He replied- "That's Ivon- that's the one I told you about. She's one of our valedictorians. Isn't she great?"

She was absolutely fantastic- well spoken, professional beyond her years. Clearly a bright future lay before her.

Over the summer, before she headed off to college- University of Nevada-Reno, where she received the millenium scholarship-- she babysat for us. She was already working full-time at McDonald's. She came over after her day shift ended to babysit. The kids loved her immediately. My daughter especially. They shared a joint love of Hello Kitty.

When we showed Ivon around, we were hanging out in my daughter's room. She looked around and seemed very wide eyed. She said she wished she had a room like that. I said "When you were little?" And she replied, "No now. I love this..." My daughter's room is bright and sunny and full of flowers-- much like her personality and much like Ivon's.

It wasn't until later that I learned that Ivon had been homeless during her junior year. The home they had was in an area of town referred to as The Naked City. Not exactly the environment where valedictorians are typically found.

This fall Ivon and I become Facebook friends. She entered a few online scholarship contests and I always made sure my friends voted for her and knew what a fantastic, hard working young woman she is. She became a finalist for the K-Mart Latina Scholarship.

Then something amazing happened to Ivon.

She entered the Dr. Pepper scholarship contest.

She made the final rounds.

She won $2,500 for her video and the chance to throw footballs into a giant Dr. Pepper can during the SEC Championship game half-time show.

So she did what only Ivon would do-- she worked with the UNR quarterback and had an engineering student help her develop her technique. She was a drama nerd- an English major-- she had never thrown a football in her life. She came up with a plan.

For the time leading up to the final rounds, she practiced. A lot.

She made the next round. The Friday before the game, she needed to finish in the top 2 of the 10 finalists. She did. She would get to be one of the students to compete in the half-time contest and she was guaranteed a minimum of another $23,000 of scholarship money. She was excited to have made it that far.

And here's where a great story gets even better.

She won.

She won $100,000 in scholarship money that she has 25 years to use. More than enough money and time to pay for her undergraduate studies and her dream of law school.

And so on national television, Ivon broke down. If you knew her, you knew that in that moment, all her hard work- not just in the week before throwing the football- but ALL her hard work- finally paid off.

Her comment "Dr. Pepper you are the best thing to ever happen to me" made the internet rounds. Her tears were mocked. Some people even made fun of her "over the top" reaction and said it was planted by Dr. Pepper for marketing.

I'm here to tell you, it wasn't. Dr. Pepper did change her life. In that 30 seconds, what was once a far-fetched dream of a young girl in one of the poorest neighborhoods in the country became a reality.

In a world of cynics and naysayers, Ivon's win was a welcome reminder that truly in this life, anything is possible. She could have easily given up, walked away and kept her job at McDonald's. She didn't. She found some opportunities, came up with a plan and did the work. This wasn't luck. This was tenacity.

Congratulations, Ivon. I hope that this is only the beginning of the wonderful accomplishments in your future. You truly deserve it!

Las Vegas Sun article

The Winning Throw!

My Thoughts on Gay Marriage

2011-12-01T22:47:00.001-08:00

There's this video going around on Facebook from the MoveOn.Org website. It's a very well spoken young man, testifying in Iowa on their proposed amendment to ban gay marriage.

Two Lesbians Had a Baby

Quite simply, he rocks. He was raised by two women. He is quite impressive.

And before you ask, no, I am not gay.

I am, however, human. I happen to have been born straight, like 92% of most people. I had my first boyfriend at 6. I married a man who shoots things and hates cologne. To quote a very good lesbian friend when, after a bad break up I commented "Maybe it's time to change teams"- "Sweetie, you are as straight as they come. Not that I wouldn't appreciate the cappuccino maker for converting you."

Call me crazy, but I happen to think people are born with their sexuality. I believe the 1 out of 11 stat. I have a large family. On one side, I have 10 cousins. One is gay On the other side, I have 14 cousins. One is gay. When my parents "told" me about my cousins at various times, I have to say I laughed and replied "And?" I've known them both my whole life. I kinda already figured it out.

I also had a fantastic roommate who I watched struggle with coming out. I like to say we were "Will & Grace" before Will knew he was Will. I never would wish that struggle on anyone. Ever.

I would never choose to be gay in today's world. If you think someone voluntarily chooses to be ostracized, quite simply, your ignorance frightens me.

As for gay marriage, here's my thought- at the state level it's a legal document protecting two individuals and their property. I think everyone has a right to that protection. Period. I think banning gay marriage is about as ridiculous as banning interracial marriage.

I absolutely respect your church or religious institution to not allow it. You have the right to your opinion and beliefs, just as I do. Your spiritual beliefs are yours. Just don't force them on me.

I think Jon Stewart said it best when he commented that he changed his mind on gay marriage when he realized he would not be forced to leave his wife and marry a man.

But the parenting issue.... that's always been the big argument against gay marriage. It'll supposedly turn the kids, our future Americans, into homosexuals.

Actually, it's the opposite. I've done my own logic proof on this.

Consider this.

Straight parenting results in 9% of their offspring being gay.
Gay parenting results in 91% of their offspring being straight.
Straight parenting accounts for more than 97% of all parenting (27% of gay households report having children under 18. As 9% of the population, that accounts for just under 3% of total).
Gay parents account for less than 1% of gay offspring (.03*.09)
Straight parents account for +99% of gay offspring.
Therefore, straight parenting causes gay offspring.

If you are worried about proliferating the gay lifestyle, straight parenting- not gay marriage- is where your focus should be directed. Let's pass an amendment banning straight parents.

Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?

Now maybe you get how ridiculous "banning" gay marriage sounds to me.

My Son's Broken Peeper

2011-11-29T17:42:00.001-08:00

This is an old one, but I was reminded last night that it was too funny not to share....

When my son was about 4 years old, I was working at the computer, my then baby daughter was napping. Skip came up to me with a VERY serious expression...

"Mom, I need a hammer and some nails," he asked.

"What do you need a hammer and nails for?" I asked back.

"It's an emergency. My peeper is broken," he replied.

"Your peeper is broken?" I asked with some concern. All things peeper related are generally redirected to my husband because well, he has one. "What is wrong with your peeper?"

"It keeps sticking up. I need a hammer and nails to keep it down, " he explained .

"It's sticking up?"I asked quietly.

"Yes. And the more I try to push it down, the more it stands up and gets bigger. That's why I need the hammer and the nails," he said earnestly. I should point out that Skip is quite serious and very task oriented. He saw a problem, had a solution, and asked for my help.

As I was trying not to laugh, and trust me, this was nearly impossible, I told him he should probably talk to his dad about it. I really didn't think it was broken and he probably should leave the hammer and nails out of it.

I immediately explained the situation to my husband, trying to keep a straight face. He asked what I said. I told him I referred the kid to him.

I'm not exactly sure what was discussed between father and son. Honestly, I don't want to know.

Two nights later, Skip was playing in the tub.

"MOOOM!" he yelled out.

I rushed in to see him floating happily on his back with his, um, "sail" at full mast. He had the biggest smile on his face.

"Look, Mom! My peeper is fine. Daddy said it wasn't broken! It feels good!"

I'm not exactly sure what I said, but I do know that that image is burned into my brain forever. When he is graduating from college with his probable engineering degree, I will most certainly flash back to this exact moment.

I told my husband he could relax, his son's peeper was good to go and he was enjoying all that it offered.

My husband just laughed, smiled and was happy to help. After my being the primary caregiver, I could feel him slowly encroaching on my territory.

And I have to say, I was more than happy to pass this one on!

Giving Thanks

2011-11-27T22:36:00.001-08:00

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. And not just because of the food. Don't get me wrong, I love to cook and even more I love to cook for other people.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because I get to give thanks.

I get to take a moment from my busy life, to stop, look around and be grateful. Truly grateful.

I have been very fortunate to have a good life surrounded by friends and family. I am healthy. I have healthy children. I have a strong marriage to someone that I respect and adore. I have a career that I am passionate about and get to work with clients that I would gladly invite into my home.

I am very, very fortunate.

It hasn't always been sunshine and rainbows. I always joke about my "homeless period"- the three months that I couch surfed- but it's always made me appreciate having a roof over my head and more importantly, the value of my friends. And I've had other things happen that might surprise you, but they always have made me a better person, more appreciative of all that I have. The bad things are as interwoven into my soul as the many, many good things.

With all the negativity in the world, I may seem a Pollyanna, and that's okay with me.

As I sat at the table on Thanksgiving, surrounded by family, I was overwhelmed as I am every year-- even during the couch surfing days- to be surrounded by so much love and so much good fortune.

And I gave thanks.

Black Friday

2011-11-22T07:26:00.001-08:00

I don't mean to destroy the fragile US economy, but my blog traffic isn't big enough to do damage. So....this Friday, here's my request...

Don't.

Don't feed into the corporate created mindset of more, more, more.

It's sickening.

I'm all for a nice holiday season, but this Black Friday thing has become a symbol of everything wrong with society-- at least to me.

People camping out on a day off to go buy stuff?

Seriously?

Blech.

It's stuff people. Stuff. Crap made in China.

You don't need a bigger TV. Buy one when your old TV craps out. If you even "need" one.

You don't need 45 sweaters because you'll save so much money buying them.

The video game console will be just as cheap after Christmas as it is now.

The ugly holiday trinkets will still be ugly after Christmas as well.

Buy things as you need them. Not because they are on sale or someone has you believing that you cannot live without them at this price.

Buy everyone you love 1 gift- not 8. Or 17. Put some thought into it. One item that says "This reminded me of you and I think you will enjoy it." Not "Well, I had to get you something and this was on sale. Here's the receipt."

I worked retail 20 years ago on Black Friday. I worked at a Jo-Ann Fabrics. I had never experienced this faux holiday before (I'm not a shopper). I thought my colleagues were exaggerating. For 8 hours straight I worked the register and never looked up. In fact, when my boyfriend came up near the end of my shift and said "Excuse me Miss, where is the fabric for the edible underwear?" I didn't realize it was him for about 20 seconds.

Here's a thought, rather than spend money on crap you don't need, go through your closets and cupboards and donate 20 items to Goodwill, the Salvation Army- whatever your charity of choice is

And spend the rest of the day with your family, giving thanks for all that you have, not coveting things you don't need.

Times may be tough right now, but in the end the things that are important, the things that matter, can't be measured in GDP or net earnings.

Simply said, this Thanksgiving, give thanks.

The Power of Friends

2011-11-20T21:54:00.001-08:00

So this week the scale stuck, but I ate before weighed in which I normally don't do. Not to make excuses, but with tiny movements on the scale week to week, every little bit matters.

Anyhow, this week was all about Thanksgiving (I'm anticipating a 62 point meal- 29 points a day is my norm. If I stay within the my points all week, I should be good). Our meeting leader also discussed how to deal with food pushers-- the people who are constantly telling you to take another bite, have another drink, etc, etc.

As he spoke, I immediately thought of people I had known over the years that clearly fit the bill. My favorite was a former colleague who was drop dead gorgeous. I had lost 30 pounds in between the kids and her response (in a whiny tone) "If you lose weight then you'll be smart AND pretty and that's not fair!"

Great. Way to have my back, sister.

But now, it's very different. My mother-in-law has recently lost a large amount of weight (I don't know if she wants me to share how much!). My husband has lost 125 pounds and is still going strong. Three of my best girlfriends- Shelley, Ellen and Lisa are going to Weight Watcher's meetings now with me. At work, my assistant with the evil supercharged metabolism is supportive. My office mate is supportive- she is a stick, but her husband has lost about 50 pounds this past year. In my book group, quite a few women are WW devotees and have lost a lot of weight and kept it off.

In fact, I cannot think of anyone who doesn't support me.

I think I know more people who have gotten fit, lost weight or are in the process in the past 2 years than I ever have in my life.

I know Americans are supposedly getting fatter, but around me everyone is shrinking. Even better, these friends are being incredibly supportive.

A good friend I saw last week tried to get me to have a glass of wine last week when we went out, then stopped herself and said "I'm sorry. I know you're being good. Good for you!"

Much better than my former colleague.

My husband and I have had issues when one of us is committed and the other isn't - we now joke about it. One of us will say "Want some ice cream?" The other responds "No..." The non-dieter says "C'mon..." and the other eventually caves. Not any longer. No dieting, just changing habits. Together.

I have no intention of scaling back on Thanksgiving. I added up the points already. It's a lot. If this is truly NOT a diet, then Thanksgiving is not going to scare me. I am going to eat more than I normally would. Period. I love this holiday. I love all the food. It is one day. I will have wine. I will have pie. I will love every bite.

What I won't do is have seconds. Or thirds. I won't continue to eat like every day is a holiday all weekend.

What's even better is that I can count on my friends and family to back me up on my choices.

The Legend of Ishy the Bear

2011-11-18T12:44:00.001-08:00

As told to Mama Bean....

My name is Ishy. It wasn't always Ishy. I didn't always look like this. But here is my tale....

About 6 years ago a kind, older woman with salt and pepper hair purchased me at a gift shop. I was excited. It was close to Christmas time and I envisioned myself as part of her household decor for the holidays. A prized spot upon the mantel, perhaps. My name at the time was Lovey Bear.

Alas, it was not to be.

I was stuffed into a box and spent nearly 2 weeks traveling alone, in the dark, via what I can only imagine must have been the Pony Express.

I arrived and was first touched by a woman whose name I later learned was "MOOOOOMMMM!" She saw me, smiled briefly and then said:

"Great another stuffed animal. Just what we need, " and then tossed me onto a bed where I was surround by other furry friends.

They all assured me that so far, so good. There primary job was to simply lie on the bed. From time to time they are moved, dusted, and put back into place. Sometimes the woman known as Mooooooommmm will even smile and talk to them discreetly. They seemed to imply that this was top secret information. The big guy known as Daaaaaaadddd, was a little rougher with them.

About 5 months after I arrived, Mooooooommmm was on the phone and irritatingly said "She is a baby, I don't think she really has taken notice of any stuffed animals yet. She is more into playing with the sunbeam. Okay, fine, I will give her the bear....the really soft one, right?"

And this is where the tale of horror begins...

"You're right, it really is soft..."

I was then tossed into what I can only refer to as the Cage of Despair. This small person, who I later would learn is named Potato Cakes, Sweetie Pea and other veggie laden names, latched onto to me with a piercing grip.

"Hmmm... she does seem to like him... Sweetie Pea, do you like the Squishy Bear?"

Did she ever.... or so you would think.

That's me on the right-- all fluffy and clean. She looks innocent. Don't be fooled.

For the next 18 months this kid would not sleep or leave the house without me. Yes, I am adorable and fluffy and normally I wouldn't have minded except for one thing...

It looks like a Teddy Bear picnic, but please note her death drip around my neck. I had done NOTHING wrong.

She liked to suck on my tail or my head and carry me around hanging out of her mouth.

It was mortifying.

My head is not a straw. And again with the Death Grip.

I would simply be hanging there, like a leftover piece of lunch while everyone laughed.

And my name.... because the kid couldn't talk yet, when she finally did, I became Ishy.

Every night she fell asleep with me jammed up against her little face while she sucked on my tail. Sometimes, Mooooooommmm would come in and try to save me-- bless her soul-- but alas, the little one would hang on for dear life. I was stuck in the jaws of death.

Then one day a little dog licked my tail and the kid stopped sucking on it.

But the torture did not stop...

The poor doll is getting the abuse while the kid throws back another bottle.

Suddenly, she began hiding me in places. Dark, scary places. The pantry. The toy box. A box inside the toy box. A box inside a box inside the toy box. In her brother's room. In her brother's room inside a box inside a toy box. In closets. In night stands. In end tables. In kitchen cupboards. In the bushes outside.

And I would hear her cry out my name at night "ISSSSHHHHYYY!" I could hear Mooooooommmm and sometimes even Daaaadddd (although more often he would say "She'll be fine... she lost it... let her learn") shuffling about looking for me. When they would find me, it was with a look of exasperation. I felt the same. Part of me happy to be out of the box, part of me scared at what more lie ahead.

I was scared to death. I had no idea what her plans were.

She started to dress me up. I have to say, this part was fun. I like to look good. The barrettes were often too tight and I didn't particularly care for the ponytail holders around my neck, however.

She reads to me now. It's really fun, but personally, I prefer historical non-fiction, not Barbie.

I got to go to school on Wednesday for Show-and-Tell. I saw more terrorists- hundreds of them. I was really scared.

But I survived.

The worst part-- by far the worst part-- is the vomit.

Whenever this kid gets sick- blech- all over me.

She says she loves me, yet when she starts to feel sick, I am the one who pays the price.

Sweet, little old me.

Last night was one of the worst. Apparently she had had spaghetti.

Why she felt the urge to hold me all night, after she puked in the sheets, I have no idea. I wondered where Mooooooommmm was? She normally would clean this up. Apparently the kid did not want to wake her up. I can appreciate that. If you think I'm a bear, this Mooooooommmm person puts me to shame if you wake her up.

But alas, finally Mooooooommmm came, wiped me up, cleaned the sheets and I am drying out now, telling her my tale.

As for the kid, she was fine. Didn't even apologize. Just told Mooooooommmm that I smelled awful.

No kidding. She didn't smell like roses, either.

I have no idea what tomorrow holds for me. I would try to run but honestly, I've thinned out quite a bit these past few years. My paws are worn. My ribbon is merely a thread.

The other animals are jealous. They feel discarded. If only they knew what the price of this "love" truly was, they might not be so jealous.

But I trudge on. My duty is to the Teddy Bear code- to be loved to death. And I assure you, I get more love than you can imagine.

Shopping and me

2011-11-13T22:59:00.001-08:00

I hate to shop.

There. I've said it. I've outed myself.

I should state there are 3 exceptions to this-- farmer's markets, Williams-Sonoma and book stores.

If you're a good friend you already know this about me. If you're a good friend and don't know this about me, well, I was just being polite when you drug me around shop after shop after shop.

I HATE SHOPPING.

Passionately. Vehemently.

Malls make me want to run screaming.

And it's not because I got fat and hate to shop for clothes. I hated shopping for clothes when I was a size 8. I loved when I found that I could order everything from catalogues in college. And then Amazon... oh, sweet Amazon. What a great service.

But holy cow, mindless wandering makes me nuts.

I am a buyer. I make lists. I buy the things on the list. I then leave the store.

This really came into play this weekend.

My husband and I spent a romantic weekend in Santa Fe, NM. I had a business trip and we dove tailed it into a long weekend to celebrate our 10th anniversary. I'd been there once, on a quick trip. Everyone said how great it was.

It is a very cool city. Tons of history. Lots of restaurants.

And an insane amount of shops.

Specifically jewelry shops.

Which would be a great thing if you liked to shop and liked jewelry.

Two things I don't understand.

When we asked the concierge what to do, "Oh shopping! You'll love it."

No, no, I will not.

I tried. Honestly. I did. But I couldn't keep a straight face. I tend to mock people who shop.

After a half day of faking it, I 'fessed up to my husband. I was having a miserable time shopping. He said he thought I was shaming my X chromosome. The good news, he's not really a shopper either.

I just don't get it-- wondering around looking at stuff that I don't want or need? Why? I'm not a knickknacky gal. Why on earth would I buy a dreamcatcher? Ever?

So I guess this means I am an embarrassment to not only my gender, but my country as well. If you really want to see my freak out, take me to a Super Wal-Mart. I nearly get hives.

The good news, if I ever doubted that my husband was my soul mate, I have no doubt whatsoever now. Today, sensing that I couldn't look at another piece of turquoise or chotchky, he found something I would really love-- The Museum of Nuclear Science and History. And yes, he loved it, too.

Rather than try to be normal and get all excited about a designer geode on a mirrored display (I prefer to find geodes in the desert, not a gift shop), we got our geek on and went to the museum.

Ahhhh.... now that was fun.

In fact, I even bought a t-shirt that said "Talk Nerdy to Me"-- a secret clearly my husband already knows.

I've been struggling...

2011-11-06T22:55:00.000-08:00

I haven't written anything too heartfelt lately, aside from my adoration of my dog, because with all the anger in the world right now, I have too much to say. Since I'm also VERY limited on discussing anything financial or economic on the web, I can't really say what I think. Or defend what I think with actual data. It's a new concept to many people who have lots to say but no actual facts to back up anything they are saying.

So I will keep it short, so I can get it out and get over my writer's block.

#1- The Tea Party and the Occupy Wall Street people bother me both equally. You both are saying very loudly "Where's my piece of the pie?" You both feel screwed somehow. You both feel that others have something that you don't. I find it ironic. I do want to emphasize, I am very glad that people are motivated to FINALLY get involved after years of being apathetic. For the record, I've been complaining about PAC's, the wealth gap, excessive government spending, the growing dependency on government benefits for years- both movements' issues. Truly. To a point I've killed a few dinner party conversations. The answers lie in the middle. And now I must not speak any longer.

#2- The government is not a business. Please stop trying to compare it to one. The government provides services that are needed (or that's what they are supposed to do). They are not supposed to be profitable. And when you do bitch about taxes or spending being too much, you can no longer bitch about how long it takes to get anything done with our new, leaner government. Yep, you're gonna be on hold and waiting in line a lot longer. You asked for it, you got it. Now shut up.

#3- Education is a good thing. Learning more is always positive. Being intelligent is a good thing. Getting a diploma is not necessarily the same thing as getting an education- especially if it was based on multiple choice tests online. Reading, asking questions, being able to communicate-- these are good things. Having an educated public is essential for economic growth. Having an uneducated public gets us to where we are today. When did being smart become a negative?

#4- Some day something bad will happen to you. It might be you who loses your job, has a sick family member, has a special needs child. Just because you've been lucky doesn't necessarily mean you've done anything to "earn" it. When these bad things happen to you, I can assure you, you will be reaching out for help.

#5- With that said, my success does not impede yours. When you were riding the gravy train of success, I didn't tell you to buy a house you can't afford, take trips that you can't pay for and not save a dime. For crying out loud, live within your means.

#6- Without quelching everyone's new motivation to be involved, here's the scoop-- is it really that bad? Is your biggest cut back that you had to drop HBO? Cut coupons? Not eat out every night? Seriously? People all over the world live in the fear of their own military, they don't have water, they have to decide which child lives or dies.... and I don't mean shut up and be grateful. Be loud with your concerns, but be grateful.

The world is a wonderful place. I've just been frustrated with all of the misdirected anger. Our political system is clearly broken, but our hatred of each other needs to stop. I know people who have read my blog, realized I'm a Democrat and stopped-- suddenly my insights aren't so insightful. I find that sad. Very sad. I'm quite moderate actually.

In the end, I believe that we all agree more than we disagree. And I think we all need to turn off the TV and think about what we, in our hearts, truly want for ourselves and for our nation. It is not anger. It is not hatred.

Thank you for letting me get that out. I hope my crazy, middle of the road opinions haven't ostracized everyone.

Now, I will go back to my usual blogs on important issues like fundraisers, laundry and wacky people I meet.

The Things We Do For Dogs

2011-11-04T21:55:00.000-07:00

If you've been reading my blog for awhile you know that I have 2 dogs- Dixie, a lovely Australian Shepherd/Golden Retriever mix (Golden Aussie is this hip term) that we adopted last year about this time and Charlie the Bear, my soon to be 14 year old bionic bichon. Charlie almost died 2 years ago and has fought back valiantly and let us know that, no, he is not ready for the next life. He's quite fine in this one.

In the past few months, he's had a few bad days back to back. The vet, who has been a big advocate of his (a great mix of helping me keep him comfortable without doing ridiculous procedures) had said it's time to start tracking the good day/bad day ratio. Then she changed his meds a bit and honestly, the dog is running about 20% bad days to 80% good days-- better than my ratio last year!

He is, however, still having difficulty walking and some bowel trouble. For awhile he had given up on the stairs, but has had a recent uptick and now conquers them every night. It takes 20 minutes or so, but darn it, don't even THINK about trying to help him.

The dog is stubborn. The dog is feisty.

So at the dog park last weekend (with Dixie), I met a vet. She went to Purdue. Nice lady. She is also a homeopathic vet. She does acupuncture on dogs.

Okay, go ahead, laugh.

But here's the scoop, Charlie spent a year in complete discomfort because no one believed me that his issues started after he ran into our sliding glass door after being chased by the neighborhood cat. After testing the dog for everything, it appears that well, his ambulatory issues are, in fact, neurological.

He's 14.

I'm not having spinal surgery on a 14 year dog.

I'm not THAT nuts.

I will however, give acupuncture a shot. Pun intended.

Chiropractic did wonders for me. I think there is much more that we don't know about the human body, than we do know. I think somewhere between Eastern and Western medicine lies the best treatment. If I have an infection, I want an antibiotic. If I have something pain oriented, I'm willing to try something other than painkillers.

In other words, if I had this issue, I would give acupuncture a chance.

So I called and and Dr. Caroline came to the house.

And here's why I liked her--

Charlie has had a weird thing on his eye this week. The earliest I could get in to see the vet I prefer was Tuesday. I noticed that his eye had started to bulge a bit but I wasn't concerned.

She was. She said to call the the other vet and insist they see him today. She was concerned it was an ulcer or that he had high pressure in his eye. She didn't want to do anything until that issue was addressed. She also was open to the fact that I was most definitely going to keep him on his prescription food and current painkillers. She didn't promise me magic.

She did say she was really impressed with how Charlie had adapted. She told me that most dogs in his situation would not have been able to muddle through for the past 2 years. They would be dragging their legs, have more atrophy. Not Charlie. He just trudges through like it's a slight inconvenience.

We went to the regular vet and Charlie, who gets really nervous, made me walk him around for the half hour we waited.

They tested him for glaucoma, he was fine. No doggie bongs in his future. I think he was disappointed.

It wasn't an ulcer. So no fear of any tearing.

Worst case, it might be a tumor behind his eye.

Once again, my dog has evaded medical diagnosis.

So the least I can do is acupuncture.

I made my friend Shelley promise me to not let me become the crazy lady with the dog in the wagon.

I never said anything about not letting me become the crazy lady with the needles in the dog.

Once I had kids, I really paid significantly less attention to my dogs. The crazy part about the last few years with Charlie is that I'm growing more attached than I've ever been. I find him inspiring. He's loyal. He's fiesty. He never gives up. He has taken every bizarre twist that's been thrown at him and kept pushing.

For all the stress that he's adding to my life, I have to say, it's not been nearly as big as a deal as you might think. He's like having my own little motivational speaker.

He still wants to play.

The least I can do is give him the chance.

But no wagons....maybe a stroller?????

Every Week Means Every Week??

2011-10-30T17:04:00.001-07:00

From my other blog "My Quest to Put Down the Donut" at skinnymamabean.blogspot.com

Apparently I misunderstood when I joined Weight Watchers. Although they kept saying "Don't dial it in," "Follow the program to a tee, " "If you bite it, write it," those bastards meant it.

And today's meeting was for me and my friend Ellen. It was about staying on course when it's not going so well.

We both had a gain this week.

Rats. My first one.

Oddly, this was the first week I started to notice that my clothes were fitting more loosely. I would also like to add that Ellen is looking great. She's been diligent about the gym. I added a spin class this week.

Oh and I ate like a pig.

I "technically" stayed in my point range. At WW's they give you 49 points to spread over the course of the week, so if you're hungry, you eat. If you have a party, you can eat a piece of cake. It's quite brilliant. It takes away the sense of deprivation. If you exercise, you can add points and then it will let you "use" more points. It defeats the point of exercising in a way, but it DID get me to spin class. It was Saturday, we had a few parties to go to, I needed some extra points!

Lesson learned this week: Follow the program.

Sigh.

I also have been a bit lucky the past few weeks. With all our festivities I still pulled out losses. So I got a little cocky and I pushed it.

I deserved the .2 pounds that I gained. My weekly average loss is down to .6. At this rate, I might get to my goal in 2 years.

And SPARE me the platitudes about how it will really stay off.... yes, I know that. I have no intention of spending the next year making all these positive changes to gain it back. But I was hoping it would only be a year, not 2. I don't want it to feel like a diet, but I think if I want to get serious, I might want to be a bit more focused.

On a positive note, I bought a t-shirt this summer a size smaller than I normally get. I wasn't sure what size my boobs would end up (I had reduction surgery in June). Sadly, the sleeves and the mid-section were a little snug. I've been sleeping in it because it was a bit too tight to wear out. On Monday I had it on and realized that it fit.

Also my "weigh-in" pants are really baggy. I've been to this point before with these same pants. Which brings me to my next question for the audience...

A friend of mine is getting married next November. There is a J Crew dress I have been dreaming of for years. Do I buy it in a size 8 and hang it in my closet? Will it motivate or mock me? I've never done anything like this before because I've always feared that I would waste my money. In other words, I've never had faith I would get there. At .6 pounds a week, I won't. Has anyone done this? Has it worked? My friend is someone that I "met" quite a few years ago on Spark People and actually have met her in person. Our table will be all sparkers-- and I'm not the only one using her wedding as a motivator. She's completely fine that we're stealing her special day as a weight loss goal since that's how we all met.

Please comment!! I'm curious what everyone thinks!

Doing Wrong

2011-10-25T22:53:00.000-07:00

I had to take an online training this week for my securities licensing on ethics.

Oddly, the topic has been on mind quite a bit this week.

You see, the priest that married us, recently confessed to stealing $650,000 from my former parish.

I really liked him.

I still do.

I sorta kinda left the church awhile back. It's not a long story. There was no one thing. I decided that I had become a cafeteria plan Catholic. I don't think you should dial in religion. Either be in or be out. I opted out. It really came down to a great homily that Fr. Kevin gave.

It was during the Bill Clinton "What is the Definition of Is?" debate.

Fr. Kevin stated simply that there is a right and there is a wrong. There are no grey areas with regard to morality.

Ah, but I can already hear you arguing that certain things are debatable. I would have agreed with you until that sermon.

Fr. Kevin went on to elaborate that everyone has a line that they draw. Once you cross your own moral line, you start to justify and rationalize your actions. You never have to justify or rationalize doing the right thing to yourself. Those little voices that you hear in your head telling you to go ahead, no one will know-- that means you've crossed your line. Rationalization is for attorneys. No one can tell you where to draw the line.

You're nasty to your kids- the voice says "Well, you were tired. It's okay." It's not. Apologize to them.

You tell your boss you're sick and what you really want is a day off-- "Everyone does it." They don't. Ask for the day off. Don't lie. It IS a lie.

You start to gossip about someone that you work with- "Well, everyone KNOWS he drinks..."- they don't. Stop. Leave the conversation.

Someone walks into your house and threatens your family, has a gun. You shoot them. No need to justify.

See how it works?

There have been a few times since I heard that sermon that the little voices start rationalizing in my head and I immediately stop. I am trying to justify crossing the line. It was actually life changing for me. I always joke that I'm not a practicing Catholic because I got it right and don't need to practice any more.

Doing the right thing has never caused me pain or grief. I may have had to explain my reasons to someone else, but I've never had to justify my actions to myself.

It's quite a lovely moral code to live by, I believe. I do good things because I think it's right, not because I'm being told to do them. Or the fear of eternal damnation.

There is a right and there is a wrong.

Enough said.

I can only imagine the personal agony he must have been experiencing. Those voices must have been screaming in his head.

He is a good man. He had a flaw.

And before you think "Wow, that's a lot of money, how did no one notice?" They did. That's how he got caught. It also was over more than 10 years and the parish has thrived under him. New school, even. It's a very large parish with 10,000 families- it nearly doubled under Fr. Kevin. My uncle, a deacon, saw the bulletin (I brought him an article they had in it). One week of the collections was more than his parish took in in a year.

I'm sure he used the fact that so much was being accomplished to justify that he wasn't hurting anyone. It would be easy to rationalize. He probably brought in much more money than he ever took. Can you hear the voices justifying what happened? And yet it still is wrong. Very wrong.

Fr. Kevin confessed to the authorities. From what I've heard, he's cooperated fully and intends to somehow repay the money.

It wasn't a Catholic thing. It wasn't a priest thing. It was a human thing.

And from one human to another, I hope he finds compassion in his own soul.

10 Secrets to a Successful Marriage.... or at least to my marriage...

2011-10-22T16:39:00.000-07:00

This Thursday was my tenth anniversary. Since my parents have been married 45 years and most of my friends from high school are getting close to 20 years, I did not think it was a huge deal. Apparently, it is.

So without any actual knowledge of what makes a successful marriage, no professional training in this arena, and only an open internet audience, I offer my tips.

1. Marry the Right Person
Mr. Bean is the key to my successful marriage. I like him. I even love him. This makes it very easy to stay married to him. I had quite a few other options, believe it or not, but being stuck with the wrong person for all eternity frightened me considerably more than being alone.

2. Don't Date Others After You Are Married
I always joke about this because it really does seem to be an issue for some folks. We both assumed once we got married that we wouldn't be dating others. In fact, it was even a bit of a plus. We both were a bit tired of it.

3. Don't Have Sex with Others After You Are Married
Again, seems obvious and somewhat outlined to #2, but we've seen it enough to note that it probably should be more clearly defined. It doesn't matter if it's Republican or Democrat sex.

4. You Can Always Leave
WHAT? Shouldn't divorce be off the table? Maybe for some folks, but for me, what works is knowing that there is no gun to my head making me stay. I am there voluntarily. If it sucks, I should probably do something about it. I happily and willingly married my husband. Every day I chose to be happily married. Most of the time. Some times I need a nap. See #5.

5. Go to Bed Angry
I get really pissy if I'm tired. Why make it worse by trying to resolve every little stinking thing? You never will. Sleep on the couch if you must, but my guess is, 8 hours later, after some sleep, you'll forget whatever it was that had you so uptight the night before.

6. Give your Spouse a Break
Not physically (since everyone in our family seems a bit breakable...). I honestly don't think my husband snores as a secret plot to make me nuts. He also doesn't run the dishwasher in the morning, after he leaves, to piss me off. Although it makes cleaning up after breakfast with the kids a pain (he leaves at 6 am), wakes up the dog and I can't use the garbage disposal, I don't think it's intentional. I think he's simply trying to have clean dishes. I also don't forget my clothes in the dryer to destroy his day. Okay, maybe sometimes... Anyhow, you probably aren't a bag of sunshine either, so lighten up.

7. Have a your own Life
I hate when people disappear into couples. Have a life. Have a hobby. Have friends. It helps keep the conversation going. Expecting your spouse to be your BFF, your entertainment coordinator, your business partner is a bit of a tall task for anyone.

8. Kiss in Front of your Kids
Yes, they find it totally disgusting, but it's really your only opportunity some days. We're not business partners, we're spouses. The kids should know we like each other.

9. Be Willing to Compromise
My husband came up with this one. I told him I think what he really meant was "Do What Your Wife Wants." He agreed.

10. Date Night isn't Optional
Since you won't be dating other people, you might as well date your spouse. Otherwise, it's a roommate with whom you share a closet, some kids and some debt. Sexy, huh? I really enjoy hanging out with my husband. I would probably forget that if we didn't hang out.

Anyhow, take it for what it's worth. Not every day has been sunshine, rainbows and unicorns, but I have to say, I'm pretty darn happy. And not to be completely nerdy, but I can honestly say, I love my husband more now that I did 10 years ago. It makes me sad that marriage is becoming less trendy-- it's by far the best decision I've ever made. It's nice to have someone who knows me better than anyone and yet still loves me. Very cool.

Happy Anniversary, Mr. Bean!

Zumba and Mama Bean

2011-10-17T16:54:00.000-07:00

I went to my second Zumba class today. Wow. It is way too much fun.

For those of you that are following my secondary weight loss blog, you are probably aware that this time on my quest to lose weight, I decided to only do exercise that I like. This isn't too terribly difficult, as I like pretty much everything. But this time, I'm raising the bar. I don't mind working out, but I wasn't loving it. Every time I went to the gym it was a reminder on how much I had let myself go. Working out used to be a great stress reliever. I could feel my muscles grow stronger every time. Now, I can't even find my muscles beneath the layers of fat.

So no more cross training. No more weights. No more treadmill. For now. When I'm at a point where I'm trying to get fit, I will add those back in. Right now, I'm just trying to get to fat.

Seriously.

I have 21 pounds to lose to be "just" fat.

I will be the happiest fat person in the world once I get there. Or as I will refer to myself- non-obese person.

What a sad goal- to be fat.

But alas, it's where I"m at right now and I'm okay with that.

So rather than look at this next year as a giant mountain to climb, I decided to dance up it. I just had some cookies, too. What I didn't do was eat a dozen. I had some. Last week I had ice cream. Tonight, I will have a glass of wine at my book club.

And every week, I have lost a pound.

And every week I've only done things that I liked.

Now I'm sure if I really put my mind to it, like the folks on "The Biggest Loser" or "I Used to Be Fat" I could get most of this weight off much more quickly. Trust me, it would find me again.

I have very intentionally decided to do this sloooooooowly. With fun and a little flair.

So today I shook my booty. The hard part isn't to shake it. The hard part is to get it to stop shaking. And as I was gettin' down with my funky self, I noticed the treadmills. The people on them looked like drones. Not the runners-- but the walkers. They were my size or bigger. Headsets on. Eyes glazed. Trudging through life.

I wanted to tell them "You're not going to stick with it. Trust me. Might as well have some fun."

I'm not by any means the biggest or the most uncoordinated person in the class. I don't even think there's a profile for the class. I may even be on the younger end. I'm not sure. There's a wide range of ethnicities, too. There's a gentlemen who must be in his late 70's-- he rocks.

It's all very motivating. Dancing doesn't discriminate.

The older women who have adopted me in the back row, keep me going. I keep them laughing. It's nice.

According to my heart rate monitor, my cardio health is improving. According to my scale, I'm losing weight. According to my smile, I am having fun.

And that's what it's all about, isn't it?

My life as a Square Peg

2011-10-14T22:31:00.000-07:00

I had a recent FB post that said no matter how hard I tried, I just don't fit in with the PTA crowd. The comments were hilarious and appreciated. I do want to point out that the PTA wasn't like the crowd on the recent episode "Suburgatory"-- they aren't uptight bitches by any means-- they are actually very nice. I just simply don't fit in.

Here's the scoop- this is not the first time this has happened to me. In fact, I've spent most of my life not fitting in.

I always credit my curly hair with my ability to accept that I'm not like all the other kids. My giant mop of hair always made me stick out a bit in the crowd. When the other little girls had cutesy pigtails, I had my mini fro. It never really bothered me. It just was what it was.

It continued throughout school. I liked sports in grade school, but I also loved to tap dance. I wasn't quite a dancer and I wasn't quite a jock. Most of my friends were boys because I didn't care about clothes or reading "Teen Beat." I was always a little odd. I liked math, but wasn't a math nerd. I even went to math camp and stuck out because I wasn't nerdy enough. I play trombone-- although female trombonists are getting more popular now, they weren't when I started. At a national music camp, I was the "chick trombonist." Now there's a moniker to put on a t-shirt!

In college, it continued. I was the mid-westerner amongst New Yorkers. In my very liberal dorm, The Language House, I was one of the more conservative students - not politically, just personally. I was the blue collar kid amongst trust fund kids. I sat in a human resources class and realized I was the only one who had ever received a paycheck! Socially, I got bids into a few sororities, ended up joining the one I thought I fit into best only to quit 6 weeks later because, well, I just didn't fit.

Professionally, more of the same. I'm a Democrat who works in finance. My fellow Dems are protesting me now in their "Occupy Wall Street" movement. Once again, I'm the odd man out.

And try being a working mom. Talk about being out of place. I once had a stay at home mom tell me that she "put her family first"-- which I apparently didn't. Sigh. And at work, I had another advisor offer to buy my practice so I could stay home and be "more fulfilled." Bigger sigh. I don't fit in on the playground or the boys' club.

I'm too analytical. I'm too emotional. I'm too serious. I'm too glib. I'm too intense. I'm too flippant. I'm too fast. I'm too slow. I'm too mommy. I'm too professional. I'm too educated. I'm too casual. I'm too blunt. I'm too nice. I'm always "too."

I don't blame the mommies at the PTA. They were very nice. I know am never going to fit.

And I'm usually okay with it.

Because I know it's not really true. Every time I write a blog or make a post, the main comment I get is "Sounds like me and my life."

So maybe I do fit in. Maybe I'm just a little bit like everybody and a lot like nobody.

Maybe I'm just me.

Happy Birthday, Papa Bean

2011-10-12T22:19:00.000-07:00

Today is my husband's 40th birthday.

Here are some interesting facts that you may not know about him:

He is 6'5" tall. That is freaky tall. I can always find him in a crowd. I like that.

His eyes are really cool. They are greenish with flecks of blue and brown. Hazel does not do them justice. I like to say they are the color of outside.

He had VERY red, Howdy Doody red hair when he was a child. It's brownish now.

He is a good dancer, but thinks he can't dance.

He is a good singer, but says he can't sing. He has a beautiful baritone voice.

He is very funny, but cannot tell a joke to save his life. He always gives up the punchline.

He and my daughter have the same personality. People think she's like me, but trust me, that fiestiness is all him. They both will argue that the sky is orange til the death.

He loves "Hillbilly Handfishing."

He laughs like a crazy man at "America's Funniest Videos." The terms guffaw, chortle and snicker are all defined. And nothing makes him laugh louder than a good nut kick or old people falling over. Yet I still love him.

He's a great teacher. His students love him.

He really is allergic to spinach. I didn't believe him. Oops.

He teared up at "Finding Nemo." I often yell "Nemo!! Don't go, Nemo!!!" just to piss him off.

He never saw the movie "Shane" until a few years ago. I often yell "Shane! Don't go, Shane!"

He is nearly half the man I married. He has lost over 100 lbs. I am almost twice the woman. Oops, again.

He never liked to travel. Since we've been married, he's caught the bug and even planned this summer's road trip.

He tries hard not to laugh at me, but from time to time, he will bust out laughing.

He makes a mean latte. No one can froth like him.

He respects my monthly book club and always makes sure his schedule is clear so I can go.

He has never yelled at me when I back up the boat trailer, even though I suck at it. Really suck at it.

He has seen nearly every action movie and comedy ever made.

He is an excellent rapper. No kidding. It's hilarious.

He is a huge dog lover. He tried not to fall in love with our new dog. By her first morning with us, he had already given her a nickname.

He hates to fly.

He is a third generation Las Vegan.

He is a fantastic husband.

He is, quite simply, the love of my life.

My past few days....

2011-10-10T17:51:00.000-07:00

On Fridays, I typically work in the morning either from home or Starbucks then spend the afternoon volunteering at the kids' school. This morning I had a doctor's appointment, so being the efficiency geek that I am, I planned many small tasks.

This is how my day was supposed to go.

8 am Take the dogs to the groomers
8:15   Take the kids to school
8:45   Drop off our tax information at the accountants
9:15   Deposit a refund check we received at the bank
9:30   Pick up a gift certificate
10:00 Go to the doctor's a little early to read
11:00 Lunch with my friend Shelley for her birthday
1:40 Volunteer at the kids' school
3:30 Pick up the dogs from the groomers

Amidst this, I return calls from clients. Fortunately, it was quiet and my assistant had the work stuff covered.

This is how my day actually went:
8 am Took the dogs to the groomers
8:05    Chased Dixie around the groomer's lobby when she slipped out of her collar
8:15    Took the kids to school completely covered in dog hair
8:45    Dropped off the tax information. Realized that my husband had also been putting my mail into the "TAX INFO" envelope.
8:50    Sat in the parking lot at the accountant's removing the mail from the envelope
8:55    Actually dropped off the info.
9:00   Drive around for 20 minutes trying to find the branch
9:20   Realize the check I was going to deposit I left in the envelope at the accountant's. Also realize that my business expenses are on the seat next to me with the mail I removed. Deposit a check that I rewrote from my business account.
9:45   Go back to the accountant's to give them my business expenses and pick up the checks I had left.
9:50    Realized that the check I wanted to deposit was made out to my husband and he hadn't endorsed it.
10:15 Get to the doctors.

10:25 Get in to the doctor's early (Yeah Dr. Judy!). Find out that I'm not there for just a blood test, but also my annual exam. FUN.

11:00 Meet my friend Shelley for lunch. ON the way there, I'm cut off on the freeway by a woman on her cell phone in a Hummer. She proceeds to cut me off in the parking lot AND physically runs into me as she yapped on her phone and never once acknowledged it. She plowed into me, too.

The afternoon was more mellow-- volunteered at the school, hung out with the kids-- all good stuff.

Saturday I had planned to pick up our food co-op basket, then a soccer game, then get ready for my client appreciation picnic on Sunday.

That was interrupted by an ER visit. My son broke his arm playing soccer.

Yes, that's right, my daughter just got cleared after breaking her leg.

We are waiting for the call from social services. Sigh.

The good news, his break wasn't too bad. The bad news, he's out of most of his activities for the fall.

The good news- we have some free time!

ANYHOW, even though by profession I am a planner, clearly things do not always go as planned. And yet again, I'm forced to roll with it.

So if I haven't returned your calls, responded to your emails, etc, etc, it's because it's been a little crazy. Throw in my old dog taking another down turn (and getting a tumor on his eye), the neighbor's dogs who NEVER SHUT UP DURING THE NIGHT and well, my head is exploding.

But ain't it swell?

Dante's Password Inferno

2011-10-06T07:44:00.000-07:00

It seems like only yesterday I had one password to remember-- my ATM pin.

I was clever with it.

It was 5674. It spells Lori. For obvious reasons, I no longer use it (so don't get any ideas).

Then came my first email address and log in. It was 1989. I knew exactly 1 person who had email. Tory and I would send witty things like "Hey, isn't this cool?" every 60-90 days. I had my log in and password written in the front cover of my day planner.

Since I worked in HR originally, I put a password on my Windows-- which confounded many. I think it was probably PASSWORD.

Just yesterday I was trying to remember the password to my secondary laptop's desktop encryption. (FYI from this point on, I will not be sharing any of my passwords, although some are so ingenious that I often forget them.)

My typical day involves the following passwords:

Personal e-mail
Facebook
Blogspot
Desktop encryption
Windows
CISCO VPN Security
Intranet work website
Work email
Weight Watchers
Blackberry password

Then on a regular basis:
Personal bank
Cornell (I volunteer with admissions)
Business bank
Personal bank ATM
Brokerage account
Payroll
Old DOS system at work

Then on a semi-regular, say quarterly basis, I access these websites
NV Business Tax
Sewer fee
Trash fee
Car payment (I hate to even write that.... I hate car payments....)
Cell phone
Business credit card
Continuing Education(3 different sites)
Long term care proposal system
Retirement plan
HRIS for payroll deductions
Amazon
Kodakgallery

Then on a not often enough so now the following accounts are locked out:
Too many to remember-- LLBean, Target, Williams-Sonoma, Savings bonds, college funds, doctor's office Med Something or Other, 10,000 different photo sites to view my friends pictures, etc, etc, etc

That's nearly 40 passwords- not counting the log-in "account names". All special and unique in their own way.

No kidding.

Some can only be 8 characters.
Some must be more than 8 characters.
Some must have a number and non-alpha-numeric symbol.
Some cannot have a non-alpha-numeric symbol.
Some must include capitalization.
Some are not cap-sensitive.
Some expire every 90 days.
Some never expire.
Some only expire if you haven't used them.
Some will let you simply change a number PASSWORD1...PASSWORD22
Some will not allow you to reuse any of the symbols, letters or numbers that you've used previously.

That last one sets me off the most....

First, let me state that I am completely out of ideas for passwords. If I get too creative, there is no chance that I will EVER be able to remember it. Hence the many accounts of which I am locked out. I also don't want to write them all down and put them in a file. Defeats the purpose of the password. Even if I label the file "Dog Vaccinations" rather than "Passwords."

I very honestly had to come up with a password with the following criteria:

It had to be 8 letters exactly.
I had to have at least 1 capital letter, 1 number and 1 non-alphanumeric character.
It could not resemble ANY of the passwords I used in the past.
I would need to reset it, with the same parameters, in 90 days.

I appreciate companies concerns for my security, but let's face it, with all the recent "We've had a breach in security" letters I've received in the past 2 years, I personally think it's just one more hurdle added to my busy day.

When people comment on how stressed everyone is today, I blame the insane amount of useless information that I am required to retain. Like 40 passwords. And that doesn't even count my friends' countless home phones, cell phones, work emails, personal emails....

Remember when there was 1 way to reach someone?

I love technology. Lately, it feels like more of a burden, however. It seems like no matter I do, how unique I am with my passwords, someone will hack the account or some idiot employee will sell my info to the highest bidder.

It leaves me unprotected and exasperated as I am constantly locking out accounts, being left on hold to unlock them or anxiously awaiting the secret coded email (which seems to take hours to come) to unlock my ability to buy a toy for a friend's kid that I barely know.

I feel like it's out of control.

And to that I say...

BuLL5h!t

Enjoy your retirement Andy Rooney

2011-10-03T11:45:00.000-07:00

Last night I watched Andy Rooney's final broadcast on "60 Minutes" and he said he was grateful that for the last 40 years he was paid to give his opinion. It was a good life.

I completely understand. I, like most people, do it for free and it's still a lot of fun.

I've always enjoyed Mr. Rooney's commentaries. I like how he could complain and make me laugh all at the same time. He's made me think over the years. I like how he twists common logic and looks at it from a very tiny perspective to get your attention.

He was thoughtful, articulate and to the point. He didn't belabor a point. He didn't need a 30 minute "news" show that was nothing more than a lengthy opinion piece charading as real news (not Comedy Central). He always clearly said that it was his opinion, take it or leave it, but you knew if you disagreed, he probably would think you were a moron.

Somewhere in my brain, Erma Bombeck, Art Buchwald and Andy Rooney's voices are constantly commentating on my life. They have taught me to see the humor in every situation- motherhood, politics, and day to day living. They have taught me how to be slightly caustic but rarely offensive and rude. I learned how to voice my disdain in sweet, polite, humorous diatribes by reading their books, columns and watching them. It has helped me immensely in my personal professional career; I tend to get my point across with a few laughs, but the knowledge that I am dead serious.

I will miss Mr. Rooney's iconic voice, his wit and perspective. I hope, as he promised, he will continue to write. His perspective is still needed. We all need to laugh at ourselves. He was, without a doubt, one of the best. My generation moves forward with Jon Stewart, Mo Rocca, Nancy Giles, Stephen Colbert- to name a few. But Mr. Rooney remains the master.

Airports, travel and Mama Bean

2011-10-02T09:04:00.000-07:00

I am very fortunate that over the past year and a half I've had the opportunity to go "on the road" a bit.

I've always been a wanderlust by nature. Although I never flew in a plane until I was 18, by the time I was 24 I had visited 5 continents and had a fairly full passport. Currently, I'm on a quest to see all 50 states.

Once I got married, had kids, my traveling days had been limited. Then I was offered the opportunity to train some colleagues, only about 2 days a month, and I thought it would be fun.

It has been.

Airports are one of my favorite places to people watch. The fact that I live in Las Vegas, LAS is a great people watching place. People from all over the world in their drunken, materialistic glory flock here. One time, before a family vacation, we were waiting with a group of very hungover college students- sunglasses on inside, slightly moaning- and I very humourosly detailed to my son the travails of excessive drinking with their full moans of approval.

This trip, a quickie to LA, had me thinking while I waited to go through security, that it is also a great opportunity to see who people really are. Specifically, at security.

Here's my take on airport security:

It's not that big a deal.

No joke.

I am quite happy to save my liquids for the other side of the screening, take off my shoes, take out my liquids in my little zippy bag, remove my lap top from the bag, and take off my belt. If this means the plane will not explode into a million burning pieces, I'm good with it.

It takes about 10-20 minutes out of my life to accomplish this.

For this slight inconvenience, I get to fly, in the air and not blow up.

Sounds fair.

But to some people you would think this was a HUGE violation of their very busy lives. If you look at the line, the business folks, the people who travel the most, aren't bitching. In fact while the tourists are moaning and complaining, the business folks have slipped off their slip on shoes, removed their belts and already taken off their shoes. Our liquids are in the quart sized bag which we place on the top of our carry on. Our lap tops are easily accessible and quickly removed.

Yes, water is a liquid. I know you paid $3 for it. You are a moron. Dump it and refill the stupid thing on the other side of security. It's free at the water fountains. It hasn't cost you a penny more.

Yes, even YOU have to remove your shoes. Did you think I was going to a Japanese restaurant and that's why I removed mine?

Yes, your belt buckle is metal. As is the change in your wallet that you have left in your back pocket.

There are GIANT SIGNS that explain this complicated process to you. We even have humorous videos at LAS because we know many of the people who visit aren't regular flyers.

This isn't communism. This isn't a grave violation of your civil rights. It's security because 10 years ago some really bad people killed a lot of people when the security guards waved them through, despite having set off the detectors. This "horrible" process has prevented more people from doing the same.

And while I don't understand why my parents would ever need a pat down, if it lets everyone sleep a little better in a safer world, you can have my 20 minutes. Pat away.

This is where I see my parallel to life- some people are so self involved they can't appreciate the benefit to a greater good. They are so concerned about their own drama, that they make the 10 minutes feel like an hour. They complain and bitch as if this is an ongoing problem in their lives.

You know what I consider a problem? Terrorists taking over a plane.

If going through security so you can travel is your biggest gripe, then God Bless America. These are the same people that throw shit fits at Starbucks when their latte is served hot and not iced because they never told the barista. The same people who yell at the cashier when something rings up incorrectly. The same people who get off making other people feel bad about themselves because they are clearly not happy. Do they even know that's why they are doing it? They are too embarassed to admit they made a mistake, don't understand, are confused, so they take it out on everyone else.

Dial it down people.

You are not more important than me or the rest of the people in line. We are all doing the exact same thing.

Now shut the hell up, take off your shoes and MOVE.

Tap Dancing Fool

2011-09-22T22:51:00.000-07:00

Yes, I tap dance.

Last year while I was signing up my daughter for dance class (a rite of passage for every suburban little girl), I asked a simple question-- "Do you offer adult tap classes?" I'm not even sure why, at 40, overweight, I decided to ask.

"Yes, we do. At 8 pm on Thursday nights. The teacher is great. Her name is Millie."

Without a second thought, I signed up. The studio is across from my house. The kids go to sleep at 8. No one would miss me.

I called my friend Lyn. We took belly dancing together about 8 years ago. She is the friend that I call when I want to do something completely insane.

She signed up, too.

When I went to the first class, I was amazed at how much I remembered. This was not my first shuffle by any means. I started tap dancing when I was 7 and didn't quit until I was a freshman in high school- way beyond when it was cool. But still, it had been awhile. My feet, however, miraculously started tapping as if it had only been a few weeks. Well, my right foot did. My left foot had some issues. If you tap, you understand.

The best part- I couldn't think about anything else while I was dancing. When I take the dogs for a walk, my mind races. Like most moms, I have 10,000 things on my to-do list and all of them running through my head non stop. But when I'm tap dancing, it all stops. If I think of anything else while I'm dancing I tend to trip. It's not pretty. I realized this about 5 minutes into the first class.

When I got home my husband asked me how it went. I told him my face hurt. He looked suprised.

I explained that I had smiled for an entire hour.

No joke.

I literally had cheek pains from smiling.

What a great issue to have to deal with.

The next day, I was a little sore but happy.

We danced at the Christmas show and I felt like a complete ass. So did my friend, Lyn. An adventure is one thing. Public humiliation is another.

However, after the show, we were mobbed. We were the hit of the recital. And not to brag, but when we saw the video, we looked pretty darn good. Me, Lyn, the boys, the new tapper, the former attorney- quite a motley crew of "mature" tappers. It helped that we tapped to Burt Bacharach and not something cheesy. It was funky and fun. Black outfits. No tutus. And my kids were the most impressed.

In the spring, the class grew significantly. My friend Shelley joined in. I joked with Millie that the reason everyone signed up was because they figured if the fat chick could do it, so could they!

It was fun to be inspiring.

And then my back went out and I couldn't tap. Honest to goodness, that was the catalyst for me to get my breast reduction surgery. Not the back pain as much as the fact that I couldn't tap dance. It was the last straw.

So I've healed up and now I'm back tapping.

And my face hurts from smiling.

People always ask me why I am taking tap dancing. They assume it's to lose weight. Get in shape. Exercise. It's not.

It's to make my face hurt.

Mama Bean's Big Choice

2011-09-16T12:01:00.000-07:00

I hate school fundraisers.

I always have.

When I was a kid they would always pump us up, show us this shiny new bike we could win and send us out to hit the pavement hawking our wares.

And you know who won?

The kid whose parent sold the most stuff.

And today, it's worse. They tell the kids NOT to go door to door for safety reasons. So what does that mean?

Hey, Mom and Dad, you get to sell stuff to all your friends and co-workers!

Which would be great except that I have 2 co-workers and 1 is my employee.

And my husband is a teacher and most of those kids are selling stuff.

As are my friends's kids.

Which means that I will shell out $200 to buy stupid sh*t that I don't need. I have enough wrapping paper to gift wrap our house. And for some reason, it comes in sheets that are smaller than a toilet paper square.

But this year it's worse.

I now have 2 kids in school.

Two Salesmen of Tomorrow.

Sort of.

The kids went to their motivational seminar, came home with their packets and this is what happened:

My son sat at the table and dreamily stared at all the great prizes he could win. For $100 worth of sales he could get a bouncy ball. Wow. He was pumped.

My daughter immediately opened up the brochure and said "Mommy, this necklace is so pretty. I think it would look really good with your purple sweater."

"Why yes, it would."

"And the ring matches-- you should get both. And they have shopping bags with designs. You use shopping bags... you would LOVE these...."

Within 20 minutes, she had sold me 10 items.

No joke.

She's good.

My son, however, was still sitting at the table dreaming of his bouncy ball, the parties his class would win.... he reminded me of the kid in "A Christmas Story."

When we sat down to dinner, he was still looking at the prize brochure, he asked me what I was going to buy.

I said I had bought all kinds of things--- from his sister.

"WHAT?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, your sister. Rather than think about all the items she would win, she sold me a bunch of items."

Wow.

Clearly his master plan to get the bouncy ball had been foiled. He had forgotten about the competition.

His sister beamed.

My husband backed me up. He had been hit up by Saleswoman of the Year as well. She was really good.

Skip was devastated.

"You seriously aren't going to buy anything from me?"

"Well, I don't think I have any money left. Your sister Zoe got it all."

So then he started to try to sell us.

Let's just say, I hope he gets a nice salaried job some day.

Not good.

But I'm still a little torn-- whom do I buy from? It's not exactly Sophie's choice, but it's still difficult.

Zoe worked hard, had a plan. She should be rewarded.

Skip relied on the past history that I had always bought stuff from him. Should he be punished for assuming something after 10 previous fundraisers?

In the end, I'd rather just write a $200 check to the school and let them keep the crap.

However, I am wrestling with the dilemma.

In the end, I think I will buy a few things from Skip, so he can get his ball. Zoe, however, is going to make out.

And I think I'm going to hire her to do my marketing.

The Real Me

2011-09-15T00:19:00.000-07:00

Monday I had the wonderful experience of hearing people talk about me, unaware I could hear, and they said very nice things. It was a fantastic way to start the week. I even posted it on Facebook, I thought it was so cool. It was followed up by many of my friends saying other nice things.

I honestly didn't post it to get comments (thank you for those of you who did say nice things), I simply wanted to share one of those "Wow" moments. I had been to the doctor's office and he told the new nurse, outside the door, how much he enjoyed when I came in because I was always so upbeat, funny and positive.

Here's the scoop folks...

I ain't always so nice.

Not even close.

And my kids, not perfect. Well, they are pretty spectacular- it's more my parenting, not great.

While I don't post too many negative comments on FB (but again, let me thank those of you who do air your dirty laundry online-- it's like watching a car accident- I can't look away), my life is not always sunny.

For instance, right now, I have a giant bandage on my stomach. I burned it. How?

I was making fish stock, of course!

Isn't that normal?

With my new, fabulous multi-cooker.

We had lobster tails and shrimp for dinner (don't be too impressed- they were the tiny, frozen ones, $4.50 each at Albertson's last week). I steamed them in the wonderful multicooker. With the leftover water I thought I would make stock. Fish stock is one of those things that I sometimes need. The recipes usually say "Use fish or chicken stock." You can't buy it. It really does make seafood dishes taste better.

ANYHOW, I threw in some celery, some onions, some carrots, some additional water, all the shells, some seasonings, let it cook for a few hours- smelled great. I THOUGHT I had let it cool enough to pour it through the colander.

Oops. My bad.

It hit one of the little lobster tails and circled back and landed on my stomach.

And burned the sh*t out of it.

It hurt a great deal.

I couldn't scream because I would have dropped the remaining stock and caused more damage. Oddly, I was concerned about breaking the crock.

It also smelled really good (the stock, not my burning flesh) and I didn't want to waste it.

So, a few minutes later, I sat down on the couch with the hubby who thought I was exaggerating, and said "I just burned the sh*t out of my stomach." He grunted or something.

I pulled up my shirt to see how bad it was, it was already blistering. This caused him concern. He suggested that I maybe go to the ER. I told I would slap some antibiotic ointment on it, a band aid and if it looked scarier the next day, I would do something else. I should also point out it was Friday. I only get sick on Friday's after 2 pm. Too late to see my real doctor and I'm not willing to risk going to whoever is at the quick care on a Friday night. Besides, I knew I was going to see the plastic surgeon soon and he would help me out.

Having a FB update "Just burned my fat gut making fish stock" seemed inappropriate.

The good part of it, if I had my old boobs, I probably would have fried my nips. Or, if I was thinner, I would have burned my hoohaw. Thank goodness my big fat gut was there to stop it!

This is why my surgeon was laughing.

I mean, seriously, who on earth gets second degree burns on their stomach making fish stock?

Me.

And then I tripped my daughter with the broken leg.

No joke.

When she was about 2, she started this IRRITATING habit which we referred to as "noodle arm." We would be walking, holding hands, and she would drop like a rag doll to the floor, no notice or forewarning. She thought this was HYSTERICALLY funny.

It wasn't. It actually hurts and makes you trip.

So flash ahead three years, and for whatever reason, she decides to start lunging, no notice or forewarning, and go dead weight.

It is very annoying.

It is also very heavy when she has on a giant, walking cast.

Especially when it's unexpected.

You know that team building exercise when everyone catches someone falling backwards? Imagine that game, but the rest of the team has no idea when the person is falling. Say, perhaps, it's while they are out grocery shopping and Bill from Accounting just decides to fall backwards... that's what it was like.

So we were leaving The Red Velvet Cafe (awesome restaurant), I had on sweatpants (because I'm so glamorous), and I feel this heaving object come from behind and grab on to my waistband and start pulling my pants down.

I naturally yell and shove.

I shoved my daughter with the broken leg into a small table.

I swear, it was a kneejerk reaction.

But, of course, I'm pissed that she tried to pull down my pants. So I'm yelling at her as she falls into a chair.

I completely and totally suck.

My husband's expression was one of "My Wife Has Lost Her Marbles."

Keep in mind, for about 3 days, I had been dodging "Zoe bombs."

The couple at the table that she crashed into gave me that "You Are Going to Burn in Hell" look.

Ooops. Facebook status: "Took out my 5 year old daughter with a broken leg in public."

I swear, it really was an instinctive reaction. She was behind me. I didn't see her.

This is right up there when I accidentally kicked Skip when he was two. I was working at my computer and he snuck up and pinched my leg. I reactively kicked him, thinking it was a bug biting me.

Oops. Facebook status: "Thought my son was a bug, so I kicked him."

And I've stepped on my poor, old dog more than once. This week. And been less than comforting when I pick up his poop that he has a hard time controlling but really tries.

Facebook status: "I think I broke my partially paralyzed dogs back leg."

And my son Skip who is very smart is going through a Cliff Clavin phase. Wow. THAT's annoying. I've lost it more than once with him in the past 2 weeks.

Facebook status: "I'm going to b*tchslap my son if he doesn't stop yammering facts about robotics."

And my fabulously creative daughter interrupts almost non-stop these days with "Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom... well great, now I forgot what I was going to say and it's all your fault."

Facebook status: "Will my daughter ever shut up?"

And she has also taken to saying "Oh my God!" which makes me completely nuts and I don't find remotely cute coming out of her mouth every 5 minutes at Target (blame it on the residual Catholic in me-- I just don't like messing with the Big Guy).

Facebook status: "My daughter is using the Lord's name in vain to express her love of shiny, pink shoes."

And Skip has been bugging us about where we hid his birthday gift so much that I'm about ready to ship the freaking thing back.

Facebook status: "Just shattered my son's new robotics kit with a sledgehammer."

And my husband and I are bickering about too many activities for my son who NEVER QUITS ANYTHING. A wonderful trait. I suppose.

Facebook status: "I hope my kids suck at (insert activity) so I don't have to keep driving them to practice/class."

And the list goes on. None an appropriate Facebook status update.

So this is me. Giant bandage on my stomach (by the way, the doctor said to put antibiotic ointment on it and keep it covered), ingrown chin hairs manifesting by the minute, frizzy hair out of control from the humidity, counting my stupid Weight Watchers points, and blogging in my sweats.

Smoking hot.

Don't you wish you were me?

But chances are, if you read this, it's probably because you are a lot like me.

This is my real life. Not always sitcom worthy. Often imperfect.

And I love it.

Facebook status: "I'm really very happy."

To the Victims, Survivors and their Families on 9-11

2011-09-10T19:27:00.000-07:00

I am so sorry.

I am so sorry that the single most tragic day in American history has been commercialized, politicized and compromised.

I'm sorry that politicians and officials used your tragedy for their own political gains. In all parties.

I'm sorry that scam artists preyed on people's good will and created phony charities. I'm sorry that they preyed on the family members of victims.

I'm sorry that it's taken so long to place a real memorial at the three sites.

I'm sorry that we used your tragedy to divide us as a nation, rather than bring us together as great nations should.

I'm sorry that the hatred that caused this tragedy is more intense today.

I'm sorry that as a nation, we have forgotten.

We have forgotten the compassion and unity we felt.

We have forgotten how simple the world seemed on September 10, 2001.

We have forgotten so many of the heroic stories of every day people, saving lives of people, risking their own lives- because we are all too busy holding our hands out asking for our piece of the pie.

You and your families will never forget.

On this anniversary, I promise that I won't let myself forget again.

We are one country, united in values of family, equality and liberty, and I will not let the media lead me to believe we are anything less.

Mama Bean's World: The Shame Upon Our House

2011-09-08T07:02:00.000-07:00

Mama Bean's World: The Shame Upon Our House: My daughter started kindergarten last week. She is a pip to say the least. First, she has a broken leg. Fortunately, she's in a walking ...

The Shame Upon Our House

2011-09-08T07:01:00.000-07:00

My daughter started kindergarten last week.

She is a pip to say the least.

First, she has a broken leg. Fortunately, she's in a walking cast, but we've taken the wheelchair to school, just in case.

Second, she's not like the other kids.

Honest. She isn't.

She is beyond creative and artistic. And I know every parent says that about his/her kid. Trust me, on this. I didn't think much of it until her pre-school teachers showed me her art work and then her peer "norm" work.

She is also very left handed. By this I mean, she doesn't just happen to write left handed. She is a completely mirrored kid. She steps with her left foot first. She turns to the left in dance. She had trouble with bottle caps and door knobs because she kept tightening, rather than loosening things. On the positive side, she is very easy to show things to- just sit in front of her and she can mimic- it's very convenient.

She also likes to chat and she has a big a brother, so she can stand up for herself. She doesn't have an issue with sharing. She is, however, a master of conserving- you know, fighting to keep what's hers.

Kindergarten is going to be a bit of a challenge.

In her first week. she already received 2 yellow cards and then finally the big one-- the red card.

Now before you go off on the teacher and say "Well, she needs a more understanding teacher..." we love her teacher. Her teacher is fabulous. Her teacher is wonderful for her. My baby girl just needs to learn to conform when appropriate and then sparkle and be herself when she can.

When she got her red card, she was almost laughing. She had a whole list of reasons why it wasn't her fault. The kids were asking about her cast. The little boy took a toy from another girl and she was getting it back for The Girl Club. And on and on. I had thought she would be an artist. Apparently, an attorney is also an option!

We put down our feet:

Were you talking.

Yes.

Did you pay attention?

No.

We gave her a time out after school to think about it.

(To be honest, our son had gotten 1 red card in three years; we really had no idea what to do. Oh, and being the AWESOME parents that we are, we shared this with her. Comparing siblings is such a great tool. We suck.)

And then she started the big alligator tears.

Naturally, we felt like crap. Had we come down too hard?

We came up with a good incentive, rather than punishment, plan. For every day she got a sticker (no red or yellow cards), she would get to pick the 2 books we read at night. For every day she got a yellow, she only could pick one. For every day she got red, Mommy picked. And trust me, they would NOT be Barbie books. Blech. I hate those things....

Anyhow...

It seemed to work. She lit up. She likes to read and be read to.

On Tuesday, I told her I felt good about the day. I could see a day without any cards.

She looked me right in the eye and very seriously said, "I will not bring shame upon our house."

I almost peed.

During her summer on the couch due to her broken leg, she had watched "Mulan" a few times. It stuck.

I think perhaps she was taking it too seriously. Or was she? She really shouldn't get red cards. I know she will definitely talk more than her brother. It's her nature. But she shouldn't be disrupting the class. She has a fun, fabulous teacher and she needs to listen to her.

She was right. We do not want shame upon our house.

We also don't want her to get labeled during the first week. The only label we want her to have is Smart Creative Girl. Not Chatterbox Troublemaker.

So far, no more red cards. No more shame.

I am Mama Bean. I am Tiger Mom. Roar.

Oh, and thanks Mulan!

The American Laborer

2011-09-05T10:00:00.000-07:00

Today is Labor Day. I love this holiday. It's the end of summer, my least favorite season (too humid in the midwest when I was a child, too hot to breathe in the desert as an adult). It's a quick break after the teaser of school starting. It signals the beginning of fall, my favorite season (perfect no matter where you live).

I also am a graduate of Cornell University's School of Industrial and Labor Relations. My primary focus being labor economics. Before you start yawning, let me tell, in today's economy, an intimate knowledge of how labor markets work is a plus. When I listen to candidates talking about cutting corporate taxes to stimulate the economy and promote job growth (which worked sooooo well the past 12 years... no), I roll my eyes. There's much more to it. And on that note, I must stop as I am governed by the rules of FINRA. So back to Mama Bean's World...

I am the granddaughter of a coal miner. My grandfather worked diligently in the mines in West Virginia. For his service, he developed black lung. After my grandmother passed away, he moved his family- five young boys and a new wife to Ohio to work in the factories in Akron. I don't know all the details of it, he was retired before I came along. I know he also smoked, so I'm sure that didn't help, but I do know that most of memories of my dad's father involved an oxygen tank (which oddly was near as he smoked... I think that's a bad idea...).

I am also the granddaughter of a former steel worker. My mother's father suffered an industrial accident at the steel mill, lost his teeth and eventually lost his job. My grandmother's version of this story is somewhat full of intrigue and since I cannot verify any of it, I won't repeat it.

And as for me, I've worked since high school for a variety of bosses, some good, some not so good. I remember working at a restaurant and the boss convincing my fellow waitresses if they didn't clock in, he wouldn't pay them our base of $2.10/hour, but they could keep their tips and not report them. They all thought that was great. I was 17 and went nuts. "And if someone slips and falls? Then what?" This is the same jackass that made us fill the ketchup bottles with expired ketchup he had bought from a restaurant that was going out of business.

I also worked at a fast food place that sold chicken out the front and other, um, items out the back. When the owner got busted for drug trafficking when I was in college, my mom was stunned. I just laughed and waited for my subpoena. I didn't get one.

Not so shockingly, this lead to a degree in labor relations and after realizing I did not want to be an economist, I started working in the field of human resources, specializing in employee relations. This was not a great choice for me. I will say, my three positions in HR were with very good companies and I had some wonderful bosses. I will also say, that in my two last HR jobs the words "don't forget who signs your check" were spoken to me when I advocated on behalf of employees.

Clearly, not the career choice for me (although I would like to add that I had a VP who put his neck out for me on one of these issues-- he ended up suspended-- a rarity for someone in his job-- and even though it was after I left, I heard about it and was very impressed. We were right and the company was out of line and we saved them a gigantic lawsuit.)

Now on the flip side, a career with unions was not to my liking either. I'd seen horrible employees reinstated due to paperwork errors. I will say, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, I saw a lot more crap on the managerial side. By far. I would never work in an unskilled job, especially in hospitality, without union representation. And it's not a reflection on the companies-- it's a reflection of a lot of mid-level supervisors who work their way up through the ranks and don't know what they are doing. I want to be clear on that. By the time it reached a VP's desk, they were usually stunned and horrified. But without the unions, it never would have made it there.

And in my personal experience, I was told to not bother to apply for a management position because I had" no natural leadership or training skills."(I would like to point out that I am now a contracted national trainer for the firm). It was straight out of an EEOC "What Not to Do" video. They gave the position to a lesser qualified male colleague- who they interviewed at a strip club- dead serious. He lasted 9 months and was replaced by a very competent woman. The hiring manager left the firm, came back and recently hired me as a consultant. No sh*t. He even told my office partner that he had handpicked me to be a manager. What??? How different my life might have been had he actually done it. Oh well. My life has turned out much happier and for the better. Oh, and there was a $32 million class action gender discrimination lawsuit. I guess it wasn't just me. And the men in the office bugged me to sign on since I had, to quote a colleague "really gotten screwed over." I used the funds to pay for graduate school.

So at the end of the day, when people ask how I could ever be a Democrat or support unions or workplace legislation, I hope this explains it. It is there for a reason. A company's sole purpose is to create a profit, not provide you with employment. A third party helps to make sure they do it without harming or risking people's lives. Yes, some companies do this without union representation, but ask people who have given their lives to companies only to get a pink slip and 6 weeks severance. There are a lot of people to poll out there now.

The world is not a fair place. Not even close. The labor movement helped to create a middle class in the United States. In an era where CEO's have outlandish compensation packages, workers are being let go and companies have record profits, we might need to rethink how labor rights are protected. Without a thriving middle class, our country will fail.

I am a capitalist. I am a business owner. I am as American as apple pie. I am also a realist. I think people need to be treated as more than an ID number. I think it ripples across into the economy and benefits all of us.

So today, thank you to the labor movement. You have provided me with so much more than a three day weekend.

Weight Watchers- The Final Frontier

2011-08-31T21:20:00.000-07:00

Ee gads. I joined Weight Watchers.

Get me a scrunchie, buy me a minivan, subscribe me to "O" magazine- I have crossed over into the last circle of Suburban Inferno. I'll be turning in my cool card tomorrow. Okay, I never really HAD a cool card.

I have a lot of friends that lost a lot of weight on Weight Watchers. I also have a lot of friends who have gained most of it back. I always cringe when people say "Oh, I've done Weight Watchers a bunch of times. It always works." No, it must not if you have to keep going back.

I also am fascinated by people who don't know that whole grain bread is better than white bread. Really? Yes, vegetables are good. Ice cream is bad. This is not rocket science.

Um, but wait, I am fat. I can't be a judgmental bitch anymore like in my youth.

I decided that now, after my surgery, that perhaps, I should mix it up even though I've always been able to get weight off before because, to quote myself, if I was really doing it right, I wouldn't have to keep losing it.

And forget the online stuff. That worked once. Now I just don't log in. Kinda like my philosophy that if I don't get on the scale, then I must not be gaining weight.

Those are not effective weight loss strategies.

So I went to the meeting. I felt like it was AA. As I signed in, I told the very fun meeting leader "Honestly, I'm just here for the public humiliation." I sat around the room, much like an addict probably does and thinking "Wow, look at these people--they don't know how to eat- holy crap, I'm one of them."

Fortunately a friend of mine from church was there- I hadn't seen her in a few years. She was fairly new to the program as well and I made comments throughout the meeting, cracking up her and the older women sitting next to me.

I cringed as people discussed how great "zero" point food was- processed crap without calories or nutritional value. There is no way I'm eating that stuff. Chemical food, albeit 0 calories, is scarier than ice cream to me. I think at one point I was making a face and the leader saw me. Oops.

Then they shared a microwave cake recipe. I thought I would I gag. It sounded disgusting. One woman said "I tried that. It's gross." Phew. I'm not nuts.

And as the meeting progressed, I realized "Holy cow, I'm the only person in here that cooks." I'm always fascinated at how little people cook.

That is the honest to goodness truth. I already buy fresh produce. We eat fairly healthy 80% of the time. I just need to make 95%. And I need to cut out the butter and my beloved cheese (what is the meaning of life without cheese?). I can drop the coffee with cream and switch back to tea. I can't stand artificial sweetener. I think it tastes funky. I can definitely tweak my eating habits. While I can blame my back for my lack of exercise, it certainly has held up on my way to the pantry to hit the cookies!

But the really cool thing I found with the WW program- I don't have to eat nasty, processed faux food full of fake sugar substitutes (although they do hawk their products). They actually have a nice program that is flexible. Since I do cook, it's actually easier. I don't have to keep calculating points. I can cook fish faster than you can microwave a frozen dinner (that new Breville is amazing!).

And I get stickers. No kidding. For every 5% I lose. Woo hoo! Just in case the scale doesn't motivate me enough, I will get stickers. Don't laugh. I'm competitive. This actually will work for me. I'm not proud that good health and a long life aren't as motivating as stickers, but it's the truth.

And the leader was really quite fun. And the older woman around me. They were a hoot. And my friend.

It did not suck.

And it's everything I already know, but in a different format. And I get to have someone hold me accountable. And I can get stickers.

What the heck? Why not? It was kinda fun.

So for the next 10 weeks I will count points like every other mom in the PTA. And I will go back to my "group therapy."

It certainly can't hurt.

'Twas the Night Before School Starts

2011-08-28T21:45:00.000-07:00

‘Twas the night before school starts and all through the house,

The bedroom lights were off, not a click of a mouse.

The kids were all nestled, somewhat snug in their beds,

While visions of homework danced in their heads.

The backpacks were hung by the garage door with care.

And Ma hoped that everything they needed was in there.

The girl was all giddy- kindergarten at last!

Her pre-school years, left in the past.

The boy was much calmer, his friends he did miss.

To be in third grade, a big kid, was bliss.

Pa is a teacher, so he whimpered a bit.

His three months off were a bust, a summer of sh*t.

His daughter’s leg broken, his son sometimes sick,

A new dog who shed, an old one who pissed.

Perhaps his classroom wasn’t so bad.

For the first time in years, he was actually glad

To go back to the grind with far less disasters,

At least, for now, he was getting paid for his masters!

The lunches are packed, one week in advance.

The clothes are all ironed, no room for chance.

Ma is all happy- back to a routine!

There’s less time for fighting and kids being mean.

The click of the remote when “Entourage” was done,

Signaled the end of a summer that wasn’t much fun.

Quick good night kisses and eyes closed tight,

Happy School Year to all and to all a good night

Mama Bean's World: Happy Birthday to Mrs. Wittkop

2011-08-28T00:29:00.002-07:00

Mama Bean's World: Happy Birthday to Mrs. Wittkop: Thursday is my high school English teacher's birthday. Now most people probably don't know when their high school English teacher's birthda...

Mama Bean's World: Back to School and Bullying

2011-08-28T00:29:00.001-07:00

Mama Bean's World: Back to School and Bullying: My friend Cathy posted a link to this article on Facebook: Photographer Refuses to Take Pictures of Mean Girls It is a great article. T...

Mama Bean's World: My Favorite Things- Mama Bean Goes Oprah

2011-08-28T00:29:00.000-07:00

Mama Bean's World: My Favorite Things- Mama Bean Goes Oprah: Honestly, I am not materialistic. I promise. I do however, like to cook. I also have a problem with small kitchen appliances. It's ...

My Favorite Things- Mama Bean Goes Oprah

2011-08-27T23:57:00.000-07:00

Honestly, I am not materialistic. I promise.

I do however, like to cook.

I also have a problem with small kitchen appliances.

It's actually an addiction.

Since I know this- I haven't purchased anything in nearly 2-3 years since the yogurt maker.

Yes, yogurt maker. It makes fabulous yogurt. Seriously. I love plain yogurt and homemade yogurt tastes great. You can even build your own, perfect culture. However, it is not particularly cheaper to make it and it is a bit of a pain to heat the milk, let it cool to the exact temperature-- it's cheaper and easier to just buy it. (And might I say, if you haven't ventured into the world of plain yogurt-- you should try it. Once you start adding your own fresh fruit, flavored yogurt will start to taste disgustingly sweet. A little cinnamon on top.... here I go babbling about cooking... anyhow, just because you buy it plain, doesn't mean you have to eat it plain!)

We recently added three new appliances to our household. All three were home runs. We actually use them almost daily. I have never been happier with purchases.

So, like Oprah, I would like to tell you a bit about these products. I would also like to point out that I waited for 2 of them to drop dramatically in price before I purchased them. I am not recommending that you run and buy any of them immediately because you can't live without them. You can. But, if you find yourself needing to replace something that breaks, well, these are really great options.

Our first purchase was a cappuccino/coffee maker. Our coffee maker started to die. It was a wedding gift 10 years ago. It was a fabulous Melita Grind and Brew that they don't make any more. The filter was leaking, we couldn't find a replacement for the part. We were out at Fry's (aka nerd mecca--- we love it) and found....

DeLonghi-BCO120T-Combination-Espresso-Machine

It was $79- much less than the grind and brew options that are out there. We did get coffee grinder separately. (FYI- the reviews on Amazon are terrible, but upon further review, every non-commercial cappuccino maker has terrible reviews. We are just assuming this will be short lived. I am a fan of the french press and we can always froth milk with a little frother whipper thingy.)

Mr. Bean has mastered the perfect cappuccino. What we aren't spending at Starbucks, has already covered the cost of the machine- $79 is what, 3 lattes? It's also fun. The house smells great. We've bought some flavorings. I like a hazelnut and chocolate latte. He likes a caramel cappuccino. Plus, since we're Democrats, it was only a matter of time that we would get one. In fact, if you come over, we'll make you one and charge you a usage tax (that was to make my Republican friends laugh... you really can have one for free... even if you're not a citizen... I really can make political jokes all night....).

Mr. Bean's Perfect Cappuccino

The next purchase was to replace my ongoing issues that I have with slow cookers. I can make a souffle more easily than I can cook something in a slow cooker. I don't get slow cookers. You have to brown everything before hand, so why not just roast something or simmer it on the stove? Plus, one that I had burned everything- I read the reviews on Amazon- it wasn't just me. Then I got a nice Kitchen Aid one- the crock cracks every 3 months. They are great at replacing it, but honestly, it's a pain. Then I heard about the....

Cuisinart-Cook-Central-Multi-Cooker-7-Quart

When it dropped below $200, I went to get one at Williams-Sonoma to get it. They were sold out. For a year, every time I went, they were sold out. I figured it was a good thing they didn't have it because what do I really need with a $200 slow cooker (formerly $365) when my history with slow cookers was not spectacular?

Then I asked the people at W-S what they thought. They said it was, by far, their most used appliance. They used it 5-6 times a week for demos. They explained that you actually can brown/sautee in it- not taking the crock out, but actually IN the cooker, then flip it to slow cook.


It slow cooks, roasts, sautees/browns and steams.

Today I made a pork roast, browned it in the crock, removed the roast, deglazed the pan, poured out the sauce, put the roast back, switched to slow cook, then poured the sauce over. When it was done, I removed the roast and made a gravy from the drippings- ALL IN ONE COOKER. I make gravy once a year, usually (Thanksgiving) because it's a pain and I'm not a fan. This was delicious- didn't lump, didn't burn- nice even cooking.

Last week, I roasted a chicken. Nothing beats beer can chicken on the charcoal grill, but it was definitely moist and very evenly cooked.

I'm excited to use it to make my marinara sauce. I feel safer having it cook in the cooker for long periods, with an auto shut off, than on the stove top, cooking for a few hours.

I haven't steamed with it yet, but I heard it's amazing at that as well.

It is also easy to clean and very intuitive to use.

It's replaced 2 appliances - my slow cooker and my steamer- and added a third, a roaster.

If you're short on space, this should be on your list.

And while I was at William-Sonoma getting the multi-cooker, I got the ultimate kitchen appliance. This is the thing that I will be wondering why I waited 2 years to get....

Breville-BOV800XL-1800-Watt-Convection-Toaster

Toasting a whole wheat tortilla topped with red peppers, laughing cow cheese and some diced ham. YUM.

I have always been a fan of toaster ovens. When I was single I used mine constantly. I baked chicken breasts, fish, cookies- anything in it. It saved me from turning on the oven for an individual serving. I loved it. When my little cheapie one finally died, I was newly married to my husband who does not embrace appliances like I do, we decided it didn't make much sense to replace it. We got a 4 slice toaster for our new family. I have a double oven. A toaster oven seemed excessive.

Then I watched "America's Test Kitchen." They raved about it. I read the reviews. 4 3/4 stars with 592 reviews on Amazon-- that's insane.

It was on sale at W-S and since we had counter space (I have been slowly getting rid of appliances I don't use), we agreed to give it a shot. Our thoughts were if we didn't use it, his mom would probably like it.

Wow.

To say I love this thing is a vast understatement.

Let's start with toast...

Simple.

Easy enough.

How good can toast possibly be?

Well, this puppy takes toast-- stupid, simple toast- to a new level.

It toasts all the way through. No burnt outside with doughy insides. It's almost melba toast. Perfectly crunchy.

I've never enjoyed toast as much in my life.

I broiled fish- PERFECT. It took all of 7 minutes.

I made garlic bread. Again, perfect. All the pieces were uniform- no extra crispy ones depending on where they were.

We baked cookies. No dark bottoms. Even, crisp, perfect cookies.

It also can bake a frozen pizza. This should make life easy for babysitters.

My mother-in-law isn't getting her hands on this!


It does it all! I love the countdown timer for toast!

It's easy enough for my 8 year old son Skip to use. He actually likes it. It's less scary than the big oven. You know, the thing in the wall that we haven't turned on in 2 weeks. I think it's the perfect appliance for single people, couples, families, empty nesters, and retirees. Yes, that's everyone.

So before the holiday, when you're making your wish list or trying to find the perfect gift, if you or your recipient like to cook, keep these lovely items in mind. Anything that makes my life a little easier- whether it's improved cooking or easier clean up- is worth it to share with my friends.

None of these were cheap purchases and I really did think about them for more than 2 years (except the cappuccino maker- we just got tired of coffee grounds in our coffee and it was on sale)! If you cook, you will love them. If you don't, well, it would be a giant waste of money.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

Back to School and Bullying

2011-08-24T14:11:00.000-07:00

My friend Cathy posted a link to this article on Facebook:

Photographer Refuses to Take Pictures of Mean Girls

It is a great article. To summarize, a photographer, Jennifer McKendrick, noticed on Facebook that a page had been created for the sole purpose of bullying and harassing other girls. Some of the posts were by students who she had scheduled appointments for their photo shoots for their senior pictures. She cancelled the shoots, returned the deposits and let their parents know why she was doing it. Her reasoning- she found their comments so ugly, that she had no desire to spend 2 hours with these girls making them look beautiful.

GOOD FOR HER!

And this ain't the bullying of my youth.

This is nasty, cyber fueled hate. Lies about sexuality. Promiscuity. Nasty, nasty, nasty stuff. It's expedited by the web and texting.

By the time these things are found out to be false, they have spread.

I got teased about my curly hair, being smart, being in band, having to work, not wearing fancy, designer clothes, etc. I know the girls who said and did things-- to this day they don't even know I know some of the hateful things that were said. I'm 41. It was a long time ago. Who really cares? And the truth then, as is it still is today-- I have curly hair (which I love), I still play and sing music (and love it), I make a very good living (and hence, have a comfortable life) and I will never understand the purpose of a label (I am proud to not be materialistic). All the things I was being teased for then, are some of my best attributes.

Sure, my feelings were hurt. People I thought were friends, weren't. That's a part of life. It was teasing, not bullying.

But today, it's taken on a whole new level of mean.

The girls on my street, when they were middle schoolers were ALWAYS fighting. I remember being in my son's room, with the windows opened and listening to some of the very nasty thing the very "christian" girls next door were saying about the other girls in the neighborhood. Wow.

I should have told their mom.

Some of the girls literally terrorized a few of the girls on the street.

And the parents had no idea. I still feel guilty about it.

My daughter, at 5, can even be a little bitchy, to be honest. She has sad some pretty nasty things on the playground. When I catch her, I make her apologize. Immediately.

When my kids went to a fairly elitist pre-school, they were playing at a local park during lunch. Three girls, in uniform from the school, told another little girl that they couldn't play with her because she didn't go to their school- she went to the poor public school. They were HORRIBLE to her.

I couldn't sit there. I said something. I went up to the mean gang leader, looked her right in the eye and said-

"You are being nasty. That is completely uncalled for. You don't know anything about her. Now apologize and let her play with you."

I was pissed.

The little meanie was petrified. She apologized. They all played very nicely together. The mom of the girl being bullied looked stunned, but grateful. The other little girls mommies were on their cell phones, chatting about the lastest gossip in school.

When I went over to say something-- largely to let them know how nicely their girls were behaving now, they thought I was being nuts. It was just girls being girls.

No. It wasn't. Your little angel was being a bitch. Period. I don't care how old you are, being mean is being mean. It's never cute.

And again, my little girl has done it. And she gets ripped a new one every time she does.

I will make her compassionate and empathetic if it kills both of us.

Be kind.

That's all I ask.

To everyone.

If I catch my kids-- or if you catch my kids- being nasty or rude, tell me. I do not stand for that.

Ever.

My son has a friend who cries easily. When he realized this, he started to try to make him cry all the time. He thought it was funny.

Absofreakinglutely not.

I called the mom (who honestly, was very tired of the situation of her son crying at everything and was more empathetic to my son), and apologized. I made Skip call and apologize. He then got a lecture which I'm sure he will one day relay to his therapist.

Not in my house. Not my kids.

Being nice is not very hard.

I don't think the little girls on the playground are evil. I think they were doing something they thought was completely fine. I don't think they realized how much words can hurt. But someone needed to say something. By the time junior high and high school roll around, it's too late. Kids can really do some damage.

Laughing when someone farts during an assembly- that's normal. Calling them Smartie Fartie is funny. Starting rumors about sex acts that were or weren't done- calling people sluts- making up lies-- not normal.

So this year, pick up your kid's phone and read the texts. Check out their web history. Read their Facebook pages.

And please say something.

Being mean IS wrong.

And if you see or hear a kid being mean, say something. Be polite, but say something.

We are becoming a very mean and nasty society. Let's stop.

And while you're at it, be sure to put back the shopping cart as well.

Mama Bean's World: The Crazy People at Wal-Green's

2011-08-20T10:57:00.000-07:00

Mama Bean's World: The Crazy People at Wal-Green's: A few days ago I awakened to an ear infection. I thought I had one coming on-- I don't get them too frequently, but as a child, it was a re...

The Crazy People at Wal-Green's

2011-08-20T10:31:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I awakened to an ear infection. I thought I had one coming on-- I don't get them too frequently, but as a child, it was a regular, painful occurrence. I had a 3 day business trip coming up and rather than let it heal over, I thought I might want to have someone look at it.

I called my primary care doctor's office and they were completely booked for the day. Since I was leaving the next day, I decided to go to the Wal-Green's Take Care Clinic.

Even though they don't take our insurance, it's always been worth it for simple colds, flu shots, etc. We usually are in and out fairly quickly. It's a first-come, first-served basis. I would never go if it was something serious, but when it's one of those basic "I have this, please verify" illnesses, I trust a physician's assistant.

They open at 8, so at 8:05, I walked in, walked up to the computer and started to sign in. There were 3 people and 2 kids sitting in the waiting area. I had a 9:45 am meeting, so depending on their diseases (no one looked too sick), I was hopeful I could get in and out quickly.

Then this woman started SCREAMING at me.

"IT'S FIRST COME FIRST SERVED!! I WAS HERE FIRST!!"

By this time I was 2/3 of the way through filling in the information.

"I'm sorry?" I said.

"YOU CAN'T SIGN IN!! I WAS HERE FIRST!"

"Why didn't you sign in?"

"THE NURSE ISN'T HERE YET! THE COMPUTER DIDN'T WORK."

I would also like to note that she was wearing sunglasses indoors and appeared to have some sort of swim cover up on as a dress.

"It's working fine." This seemed to confuse her.

"WELL IT'S MY TURN." She clearly wanted me to stop. My ear hurt. Her yelling wasn't helping. I had already filled out all the details and I didn't want to start over. Oh and the big thing- THERE WERE TWO COMPUTERS.

So I pointed out the other computer to her below the giant SIGN IN sign and said "Have at it."

To her credit, because they weren't officially "opened" yet, there was a screen that popped up that said "We are not yet open." It had a full page explaining that I could continue to put in my information and I would be called in the order it was received. There was a magic button on the bottom right that said "Next." Once I clicked the magic button, I could go ahead and register, just like the note said.

Well, silly, educated me. How dare I read the fine print.

Even sadder, the other people had had the same issue. I think. I think what probably happened was they didn't even try because they trusted Crazy Bitch With the Sunglasses who found it impossible to crack the code.

When the PA came out and called my name first, she went completely and totally nuts. "I WAS HERE FIRST. I SHOULD GO FIRST."

I politely said "Take her, she was obviously here first." The PA shrugged, and told her to come back

I then politely asked the woman who was next if it was okay if I went because I had to go to a meeting.

She very nastily said "I don't think so."

I asked her if she had even tried to log in. She said she couldn't. There was a screen that said they were closed. I told her there was a button on the bottom that said next. Well, stupid me, not on HER screen. At this point I rolled my eyes.

So here's where my judgmental ire was raised...

Neither of these woman were dressed like they had anywhere important to be. They both were being horribly nasty in front of their kids or grandkids. I can never tell. I was being pleasant. There was no need to be nasty.

So I'm sitting there, watching the clock pass by.

I noticed the Over the Counter home DNA testing kit for only $29.99. Really? The world has come to the point where that's an OTC need? Then I thought about Crazy Bitch With the Sunglasses and it made a little more sense.

I thought it was funny that the laxatives were next to the iron supplements (if you've ever taken iron supplements, you understand....they do go hand in hand).

And I watched the clock tick. The third person that was waiting was a cop. When the PA again called my name, I said "You know what, he was here, too." The cop was very nice said it was fine. I told him to go, I had to leave as it was, and besides, he was the only one who hadn't gone apeshit on me. He laughed, thanked me, and I left.

I went back after work because my ear was getting worse, not better. I waited about 20 minutes.

During that time, I talked to the obvious meth head who was shaking and told me how great her Medicaid was. Lovely.

I answered questions for another girl about the price list "The info is there, in the brochure called 'Price List.'"

Basically I spent my entire time serving as an Interpreter for Morons.

I looked at the DNA test. That explained so much.

There was another very nice woman waiting with her granddaughter. We just kept rolling our eyes at the bizarre questions people kept asking me, as well as why they kept asking me.

I finally got back to see the PA. I had an ear infection. I had gotten water in my ear. He explained to me how to take a shower. I almost stopped him and said "I'm 41. I've taken a shower before." Then I remembered the people in the lobby. I just smiled as he explained that it wasn't a good idea to let the water get into my ear.

Thank you. I'll write that down. I'll just take the drops, please. It's been a long day.

Oh, and at the end, he gave me a discount for being nice. He thought that Crazy Bitch With the Sunglasses was nuts, too.

Happy Birthday to Mrs. Wittkop

2011-08-17T23:12:00.000-07:00

Thursday is my high school English teacher's birthday. Now most people probably don't know when their high school English teacher's birthday is, but I do. She wasn't just a teacher, she's also my friend. A Facebook friend to boot. And I won't even mention that her profile pic is of us together WITH ME EDITED OUT. Oops. I guess that slipped out.

I was very fortunate to have some pretty spectacular teachers growing up. The fact that I've stayed in touch with many over the years shows not only the respect that I have for them, but of the kind of people they are that they would even care to stay in touch with me and their other students.

Mrs. Wittkop, or Vickie as I can call her now, always took her "job" a step further. It was more of a lifestyle.

She was my homeroom teacher for 4 years, my English teacher during my junior year and our student council advisor. She personally was responsible for taking an organization that had fallen apart and getting kids involved. Kids of all organizations. Student leadership usually seems to take on one of two types- the cool kids or the nerds. Our student council, with Vickie as an advisor, truly included everyone. The jocks hung out with the nerds. The stoners even got involved (some were pretty fabulous artists). The band kids, the cheerleaders- everyone was invited to come. It truly created a sense of school spirit that hadn't been there before. She always knew how to bring out the best in kids and never seemed to let stereotypes pigeon hole her. In her eyes it seemed everyone had a talent or a gift.

She wasn't a pushover, however. For a tiny woman, she could be quite stern. She had a great death glare. I received it once. I wrote a spectacular paper on "Ethan Frome." She even read an excerpt to the class. The problem was, I hadn't actually read the book. I honed all the info from the discussions we had had in class. She had heard that a number of students hadn't read it and slapped us with a surprise quiz. Oops. I still remember the guilt that I felt when she handed back my C- quiz and said, quite sternly, "Hamrick, I did not expect this from you." I felt so bad I went home and read the book that night.

We also used to go to her house and hang out on a regular basis. This is how I became friends with her kids. She is such a great mom. I always noticed that she treated her kids with respect- I never heard her talk down to them. I always felt a little guilty. She gave so much to us, her students, I don't know how she had anything left for her own kids. But they seemed to turn out okay-her son still cracks me up and her daughter is so smart- I love reading their posts.

Her husband was always a good sport about the late nights - he would smile and go up to bed (he worked very early) while we all had great discussions on books we were reading, projects from school, colleges, or after I graduated, life in general. I learned a lot in her living room.

Lately it seems that teachers are getting blamed for many things. In fact, I have no idea why anyone would want to go into teaching these days. It seems that they are now solely responsible for raising other people's children. I know there are bad teachers out there- I've met some. I also know that the bar for teachers has been set very high for me, so I try not to judge. For Vickie, teaching was a passion and it showed. It never seemed to me that she had a job- she had a mission.

Her mission now is to be a grandmother and from what I can gather, she's even more passionate about that.

In conclusion, because this is how I was taught to end a narrative essay, I would like to wish Mrs. Wittkop a truly happy birthday. I am very honored and proud that you read my blog. I don't have a gift to give you exactly, other than that I think of you often when I'm reading and wonder what you would think about a certain passage or storyline. When I write, I'm always thoughtful that you have a red pen, on hand, ready to edit. I have a feeling that that is probably gift enough.

Have a wonderful day and thank you for everything!

That's my left hand on her shoulder.....

My Life from the Outside Looking In

2011-08-12T19:24:00.000-07:00

I hope if there's one thing people know about me, it's that I'm very grateful for the good life I have. I have bad days like everyone else, but I very genuinely feel extremely fortunate and blessed.

But sometimes, it's good to have that put back into perspective. And let's face, I've been a little whiny lately.

This summer I had the privilege of hosting 2 very bright high school interns at my office. My husband teaches at an at-risk high school in their magnet program. After I spoke to their economics class, 2 of the students contacted me and asked if they could do their mandatory internship with my practice. They were very diligent in their pursuit.

I spoke with my business partner, we were both a bit tentative about having young kids in the office. We deal with a lot of money. We can't afford to have just anyone work for us. It also costs us money to have staff fingerprinted, background checked, etc.

The first day they showed up, we knew we were good to go. They wore ties. They had their paperwork in order. They were very professional. I was impressed.

After their first day in the office, they told me they were now both considering going to college. They saw how nice it was to work in a nice office and after only a few hours, their whole world had opened into another dimension.

I was stunned.

No college? They were smart? What???

Then we started to talk about their, ahem, grades. Well, they got a bit of a tongue lashing from Mama Bean.

And they both said they were happy about it. No one had ever said anything about their grades to them. They were both far smarter than their GPA's would have shown. They seemed very excited about having someone notice they were smart.

Every day they were scheduled, they showed up on time, ready to work. And they worked HARD. In this completely foreign world, they learned office etiquette, about the economy, investments. They worked so hard, we ran out of things for them to do. They never questioned a task and put their whole hearts and souls into anything they were assigned.

One day, one of the interns commented that my office- just my individual office- was half the size of his house. He said the worst part was that the room that he shared with his 18 month old brother didn't have a door. I had a door. That was really cool.

Wow.

They thought it was great when I brought them lunch from Einstein's Bagels.

I got them some logo messenger bags and shirts. They could not have been more grateful.

Today we- Shane, the kids and I- took them to lunch at a nice restaurant. They were blown away by the menu. As we drove through the nice suburban area they commented on how nice it was-- greenways, well kept houses, etc.

I have no idea what they grew up with, but this clearly was a different world.

And another door opened.

One of them had an unfortunate issue with his school- I won't go into details- and I decided that I will fight and be his advocate. I may not be able to do much to help, but I am going to do what I can. He is very talented and should be a straight A student- no one ever told him that. Even worse, no one told him that it was important and why. Yes, their teachers do their part, but they didn't have any support at home. School was not important. They didn't know that you don't have to live in a tiny house or apartment with 10 people and work for someone else. Life doesn't have to be paycheck to paycheck- that's a choice as much as getting good grades. It's not easy, but it's not impossible. The thought of having a million dollars should be a goal, not a ridiculous pipedream.

I had so many great adults support me when I was a teenager. I got to travel the world and have all kinds of wonderful experiences. In my professional career I've been "adopted" by various mentors who have helped me. And I will continue to do the same.

I learned a lot from working with "the boys" as we called them. The 10 miles between our homes is a world away. It was nice to be reminded about how fortunate I have been to have all the support I needed.

From the outside looking in.

It was also nice to see "my life" from the outside looking in-- a husband who is a partner, us as parents who care and include their children in nearly everything, an interesting and great career where I am respected, a nice home in a nice neighborhood, a nice car, a lot of fun friends that make me laugh, the ability to buy something that I want and that I play by the rules, rather than spend time and energy circumventing them.

All things that on some days, I completely and utterly take for granted.

Doesn't everyone have this life?

They don't.

I opened the doors for these kids and I will not let reality slam it in their faces.

Papa Bean's Crappy Summer Vacation

2011-08-11T07:34:00.000-07:00

If you listen quietly at night, you can hear the whine and moans of teachers nationwide lamenting the return to school.

If you are married to a teacher, August is your least favorite month. "I only have three more weeks left of vacation..." And you grit your teeth thinking about your entire three weeks of vacation for the whole year. Their argument "I need that time off to regroup." Because my job is roses and sunshine all year long. In the business world we sit around and drink cappuccinos laughing at the rest of the world in between tee times. Sure.

It sucks.

However, this year, I completely understand my husband's sadness.

This summer was going to be the first summer in 10 years that he didn't have a class to take. He usually spent the summer days working on his masters or continuing education classes. Last year, he maxed everything out. This year, he was looking forward to a summer of fishing, relaxing, enjoying life. He had new golf clubs and I'm sure he envisioned using them every day either on the course or at the driving range.

It started with me. I had my surgery in June which had more complications than we anticipated. Nothing awful, but he had to take over rowing the boat for about 2 weeks.

On Father's Day, as I lie on the couch with tubes in my side, we realized the kids and me had lice (so glad we snuggle so much). I couldn't raise my arms, so he was stuck giving everyone a nice lice hair treatment. Even me. I have a LOT of hair. And he had to strip the beds, the blankets that we had been snuggling in on the couch. That's a lot of extra laundry. Every day for 5 days. That, my friend, makes for a crappy Father's Day and week.

Then our vacation that he had been looking forward to for months fell apart. Our daughter broke her leg on the second day of a cross country trip. Because I couldn't lift, he was left doing most of the carrying of our baby girl with her giant leg cast. Then his wife (moi) started to lose it being trapped in a cabin, with record heat, the Cartoon Network playing non-stop to entertain our daughter, kamikaze mosquitoes, frizzy hair and a slowly deteriorating Congress and financial market.

Then our son got strep throat. Pretty good case.

Then the market started to fall which made his lovely wife stay up late watching the Asian markets and leave early in the morning to get to the office.

My old dog is peeing everywhere. Which my husband has developed a gift for stepping in. While he's carrying our daughter.

Then our daughter had her cast removed and is in a decent amount of pain transitioning to the walking cast.

We haven't been able to even stick with our regular date nights because we don't want to leave our teenage babysitters with a kid with a broken leg.

And now it's time to go back to school in a few days.

His summer officially sucked.

Nothing tragic to him. Nothing insurmountable to our family. Just a series of really annoying, inconvenient things.

I think he's even too tired to whine.

He's clearly lost it.

Girls Weekend

2011-08-07T13:50:00.000-07:00

This weekend I had the privilege of spending the weekend with my 5 year old daughter. Yes, the one with a broken leg.

We had planned to go away to Lake Las Vegas- it's about 30 minutes from our house. They were running a deal- the rooms used to be $200+ and realizing that very few people come to Las Vegas to stay out in the middle of the desert, the discount rate was $56. No joke. They have paddle boats, paddle boards, gondolas, nice pool, movies on the lawn, a little village of shops, a spa-- it's really nice.

We decided to go away for the weekend since Skip and his dad had a few hunting trips planned for the fall. We wanted some fun girl time.

Then she broke her leg.

So I asked her if she would be upset if I asked her brother to go instead. I couldn't imagine what we would do with her broken leg. We couldn't even get pedicures!!

She said it would fine. And to be honest, since we were often segregated in our family as The Boys and The Girls, I was looking forward to spending some time with my son.

Well, he got strep throat at the last minute.

Sick kid, broken kid or lose the pre-paid room fee?

I took the broken kid.

And what a blast we had.

First, I would like to state that while Lake Las Vegas and Montelago Village is handicap accessible it is NOT handicap friendly. Holy cow. I was worried about missing my gym time. No need. Pushing her up and down the cobblestone hills in 105 degree heat was more than adequate!! But that's a blog for another day...

Okay, so on to the good stuff.

I learned so much about my little girl. She was thrilled to have some alone time with just me. Beyond thrilled. In fact, the first night she even told me that it had "broken her heart" when I wanted to take Skip instead of her. Ouch. But I'm glad she told me. I didn't think it had mattered much. It had.

She is very adaptable. She figured out how to get in and out of her wheelchair and in and out of her bed. I was very impressed.

She also has a really great sense of smell. We stopped in at the Fragrance Factory where they sell essential oils. I had her guess the scents-- she did great. In fact, we were having so much fun that the owner joined our game.

She doesn't like sympathy. Every time someone gave her the "Ohhhhh, look at that poor little girl with the broken leg" she said "It's just a broken leg. I'll be fine." In fact, she was getting really irritated with it. She was exasperated by the barrage of questions.

She knows how to milk it, though. She had more than one waiter eating out of the palm of her hand. And signing her cast. The store owners all waved to us daily as we walked around the village.

Her best friend means the world to her. She joined us for a few hours on Saturday and Zoe was so happy. I think she will become a collector of friends.

She has the same taste as I do in decorating. There was a cool store with all kinds of metal works, fun glass, etc. She loved it. We bought matching "girl power" rings.

She was as freaked out as I was with the scary doll store.

She liked the kite store and felt bad that her brother was sick. She insisted we buy him a kite.

She understood when I said we weren't buying anything, that we weren't buying anything. She was fine with looking.

She loves contemporary jazz and modern art.

She loved going for walks and looking at the sights.

She needed time to color and draw. I don't mean "quiet time"- this was creative time. It is part of her soul.

She is, without a doubt, very cool.

What I had thought would be a bit of a waste- me dealing with a little girl with a broken leg in a hotel room, turned into one of the best weekends of my life.

When there are two kids, I'm forced to be mom. This weekend, I got to be me and I got to see my daughter be herself. Her bright, funny, smart, hip self. And I was a little less stressed and a little sillier myself.

Definitely time and money well spent.

How E Harmony Nearly Destroyed My Perfectly Good Marriage

2011-08-03T21:40:00.000-07:00

No, it's not what you think....

A few years ago when E-Harmony first started out, my husband and I were watching TV. I saw the commercial and being my normal, weird self said:

"Hey, we should sign up for it and see if we get matched!"

My husband looked at me like I was nuts. This is not unusual.

"No, seriously, why not? Wouldn't it be fun?"

So after some persuading, he agreed. We agreed to limit our search to just our zip code- we didn't want to break any hearts.

I took my personality test. It took about 45 minutes. I have to say, it was quite impressive. The output was one of the best assessments of my personality. It was detailed, made some statements about what I would like in my future, in a partner- everything was dead-on.

My husband then took his test. I tried to argue with him on his answers, he shooed me away, then about 45 minutes later, he got his assessment. We read it and agreed that it was also very accurate. Then he asked...

"How many matches did you get?"

"What do you mean? I think it needs to upload overnight or something, " I replied.

"No, it doesn't. I already have 23 matches."

"What?" I asked incredulously. "I must not have clicked something. Here, let me check."

And I logged in.

Nothing.

He laughed.

Then I decided to expand my search to all of Las Vegas.

Still nothing.

Then Clark County.

Then the state of Nevada.

Then the WHOLE ENTIRE FREAKING UNIVERSE.

Nothing.

Nada.

Zilch.

No one was compatible with me.

Me, who had been engaged 5 times?

Me? ME??????

So my husband, laughing his head off, logged back in put the entire world as his search area.

20,000 matches. I believe at the time, that was the maximum amount the site would allow.

Nothing versus 20,000.

So much for my position that my husband was lucky to snag me. Apparently, I was the lucky one. No one in the world would want me. He, on the other hand, could have had pretty much anyone he wanted. Or at least had 20,000 options.

Being naturally competitive, I said "Well, it's probably because you'll take anyone. I just have higher standards."

Well, that didn't really work out for me either-- his response:

"And how lucky that you found the one person who meets those high standards."

Sigh.

Ever since then, the dynamics in our marriage shifted. I was now the lucky one, fortunate that he would pluck me out of a veritable sea of potential wives-- all who were more suited for him. He had 20,000 options. I had him.

I would like to point out that at no time in my profile were the words of sociopath or neurotic used. I have no idea what was so hideous about me that no one IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE would want me.

Just before our 90 day free trial period ended, I got 2 matches. One gentleman was a born again Christian and wanted to save my soul. Not a great opener as I don't think my soul is particularly lost (okay, well, I did sign up for a dating service while I was married....) Another was a divorced man who had so many typos in his intro I couldn't take it.

My husband, Mr. 20,000 Potential Wives and me, Ms. I'm So Lucky That He Married Me.

Try to live that one down....

I could no longer play the "You are so lucky I put up with your crap" card. I was left with the Joker. And it sucked.

He still chortles every time the psychologist from E Harmony comes on talking about how there's a match for everyone "Well, honey, ALMOST everyone" Mr. Bean chimes in.

Jerk.

I will say that although the personality profiles were spot-on, there was one glaring error-

Yes, my husband probably could have married any one of those women and been decently happy. But he married ME. And as I like to point out, how boring and dull his life would be had he not.

But in the end it did reinforce something I already knew that maybe he didn't- I am very lucky. He is one in a million. Or in this case, one in the universe and beyond.

9 Things You Shouldn't Say to Your Children

2011-07-31T16:24:00.000-07:00

Parenting.com just posted a very insightful article on 9 things I should never say to my kids. Sadly, I have said every single one.

So here is my take and personal experiences with these 9 deadly phrases (and to the author's credit, it was a very nicely done article and I am solely attacking it for comedic purposes).

'Leave me alone!'
I have said these words in some fashion. It usually involves a few scenarios, typically involving the bathroom.

We have a separate toilet area, a water closet if you will. I find myself often wedging my foot against the door while using this area to prevent surprise attacks.

Yes, that's right. Sometimes I like to take a dump without an audience. My children see this as a prime opportunity, since I am trapped, to have discussions. I do not share this perception with them.

I have also used similar phrases when I'm getting out of the shower. We do not have a separate door on our main bathroom area, so unless I lock down the bedroom (which one time resulted in my son getting a ladder to get the key off the high shelf to make sure I was okay-- no joke), I frequently have an audience when I step out naked from the shower. I don't even like to see myself naked. My children should not be tortured with this either. It brings up too many questions.

'You're so...'
Dramatic. Zoe is dramatic. It gets old. It gets really, really old. She also is very, very funny. And very, very smart. We also say nice things. I think it outweighs the bad stuff.

'Don't cry'
I'm sorry, if your free lollipop is cherry and not orange, suck it up. Literally.

If your leg is broken, your feelings hurt, sob like there's no tomorrow.

My daughter enjoys crying. It is part of her dramatic personality. We have a rule, no crying at the table. She often will excuse herself to go "cry it out" in the living room and returns when she is done. To quote her: "Sometimes it just feels good to cry." True, however, it does not feel good for the rest of us to listen to or watch. Especially if it's not any thing important. Like your food touching. Or that carrots are orange.

Again, I will hold your hand and wipe your tears for big issues, but if you're doing it for attention, good luck.

'Why can't you be more like your sister?'
My children are nothing alike except for both being smart. Even with that, they are very smart in different ways. My daughter is a phenomenal artist. My son is amazingly analytical.

Therefore, this phrase works out really well. Skip can sulk and tries to be cool. His sister is one, passionate little burst of energy. Sometimes we need him to drop the sullen, cool kid attitude and jump in like his little sister. Sometimes Zoe, Miss Academy Award Future Winner, needs to take it down a notch.

If I can't create a sense of sibling rivalry to benefit me, what was the point in having more than one child?

'You know better than that!'
You do. You knew that if you dropped your toy out the window it was gone forever.

You know that sticking your hand in the door jam was not a good idea.

You know that you need to do your homework.

You know it because I've told you 20 times.

'Stop or I'll give you something to cry about!'
Okay, I will say that I have said this. It is usually in a joking manner.

If I'm not joking, it's not because I'm going to go postal on them, it's because they are going to lose something. You are mad that the dog ate the crayons you left out? Keep up the whining and I'll take them ALL away.

I am mad. Now go away and be like your brother.

'Wait till daddy gets home!'
My husband's fuse is shorter. He is 6'5". Need I say more?

'Hurry up!'
I do think that if we are running late 90% of the time it's my fault for not starting earlier. We did go through a phase where we could not get out of the house prior to 8:30 am no matter what time we started.

I found that just getting in the car, turning it on and backing out worked much better than yelling "Hurry up!" but honestly, the words have slipped because well, they need to hurry up.

'Great job!" or "Good girl!'
Huh? I think this was meant to discourage overzealous praise. Every day I tell my kids they are fabulous and I'm happy to be their mom. They may be overindulged and overconfident and I don't care. They ARE fabulous and I'm happy to be their mom. Some days more than others, but honestly, if my biggest mistake is telling them they are great, oh well. I don't tell them this when they are putting their clothes in the hamper or dishes in the sink- they are supposed to do that. Every A, even though it's expected, is appreciated.

So clearly, I will not win Mother of the Year based on this article. I'm good with that. If I can get it right at least half the time, I'm exceeding my own very low expectations of my mothering.

And if you have a problem with that, well just wait until my husband gets home.

Being political

2011-07-27T18:00:00.000-07:00

I always get frustrated when people say "I'm not into politics. I don't really care about that stuff."

That stuff.

THAT STUFF?

That stuff determines if you sleep soundly at night. It determines your children's education. It determines so much.

That stuff is what separates us from dictatorships and mass genocides.

How on earth can you NOT care?

And if you haven't been paying attention and are more concerned with Casey Anthony or Lindsay Lohan, let me tell you something....

it has all gone horribly wrong.

Horribly wrong.

Right now, in Washington, a very vocal and well funded minority are coercing our government into trying to amend our constitution. Amending the constitution is serious stuff. It's not something you bully people into with a threat of economic collapse.

I absolutely think Washington needs to cut out ridiculous spending. I think Social Security has gotten completely out of hand from what it was ever designed to be. I question the last 10 years of deficit spending. Both elder Bush and Clinton managed to run the country without ANY deficit spending- no joke. The days of multimillion dollar toilet seats and bridges to nowhere need to stop.

But people, that is NOT what is going on. The delay in Washington has nothing to do with any of that.

Yes, they are trying to "dumb it down" to that vocal minority making it sound like that's what they're doing.

They're not.

They are playing politics with the global economy. With your future.

They are trying to get re-elected. Nothing more. Your best interests are not their best interests.

If you are not pissed off, get pissed off.

Get very, very pissed off.

People have given their lives for your right to be pissed off.

And if you don't understand the complexities of what's going, go to a non-partisan resource and learn more. Fox News, MSNBC, The Heritage Foundation, Moveon.org are not non-partisan. Read about what the debt ceiling is (and how it has nothing to do with current budgets). Learn how social security is funded (to quote a high school junior when I recently explained "That's stupid- that will never work"). Read about who really pays the taxes. Check out your representatives voting records. You will be stunned at what you can learn.

Get involved. Turn off E News and watch C-SPAN.

For the sake of our country, please.

Please get pissed off.

The time has come.

My Daughter, the Warrior

2011-07-20T12:19:00.000-07:00

My daughter Zoe broke her leg on Day 2 of our vacation. She wasn't even doing anything crazy, which is her normal nature.

The first 36 hours were awful. It hurt. She couldn't get a permanent cast until the next morning. Then we had to drive while it was "setting." Casts get hot and uncomfortable as they set. We were far from home. We couldn't stop when she had to pee- we were in eastern South Dakota- not a lot of stops. I'm not supposed to be lifting since my surgery, so I was struggling to carry her. We couldn't get a wheelchair until we got to a more permanent location, so my husband had to carry her everywhere.

It was not great.

She was sad that her vacation was ruined: "I want to be normal again, " she cried. The cast is a full leg and really, really heavy for her to move. The cabin is three level of stairs.

But you know what? Six days later and she is having a great time.

She loves her wheelchair. She has already learned some cast moves. She calls most of them Cheerleader Poses. When she stands, she puts her cast in the air and says "Cheerleader leg." She also does a Cheerleader Scoot and a Cheerleader Sit.

She has been getting a lot of attention which is okay in her book. She can even boss her brother around more than usual.

When she yelled "I GET TO DECIDE EVERYTHING BECAUSE I BROKE MY LEG" we did put the hammer down... a little.

Yesterday she even started to throw things and said "I can't get them. I broke my leg, you know." We ended the Parents Play Fetch game as well.

But overall, her disposition has been spectacular. She's joking around. She's adapting. She seems completely content.

In fact, the only one with a stick up the butt is me-- and I'm usually the cheery one. I think it's because I am worrying forward- what happens when we turn in the wheelchair and have 3 days of driving and sightseeing? How's she going to feel starting kindergarten with a cast? It's starting to itch... oh crap.

I need to take the lead from my daughter.

She likes to be carried. She likes that her brother in being nice to her. Overall, it hasn't been too bad of a gig.

Aside from the broken leg, of course.

Life is what you make of it. It's just a broken leg. It will heal. All will be well.

In the big scheme of things, this is nothing. Not even a little bump in the road.

She's off fishing now with her dad and brother.

I'm signing off to go join them....

Why I am Never Going on Vacation Again

2011-07-16T23:51:00.000-07:00

I love my family.

I love spending time with my family.

I love to travel.

I will, however, never take another vacation again.

Now unlike many people, I live in a cool, fun place. Millions of people come to MY city to vacation.

I am going to join them.

You see, this time, on our road trip from Nevada to Minnesota and back, on Day 2, my daughter Zoe broke her leg. She did nothing insane. She simply jumped from a platform that might have been slightly higher than it should have been, with shoes on that maybe weren't the best to jump in, and she now has a full leg cast.

GREAT.

We had another 600 miles to go and that's not counting the 1700 miles we have to get back home.

It sucks.

And yes, of course, it sucks much more for her. I know this. She was in excruciating pain. She is still in some pain. She has to deal with the giant cast that is now her right leg. It sucks for her.

And another vacation bites the dust.

Three years ago, Zoe ran down the beautiful grassy cliff by the Great Lakes Science Museum. Gorgeous day. Face planted right on the ONE manhole cover in a 2-3 acre field. You could actually read "City of Cleveland" on her forehead. It crushed the cellulose layer and she has a permanent half moon shape on her forehead when she scrunches her nose. We didn't know if it was a concussion.

Two years ago, my son Skip got a bizarre eye infection which was treated by a supposedly great opthamologist who didn't realize the drug had the opposite effect on kids. So his eyes were swollen shut. Then the tornado/high winds whipped by our hotel. As my son's fever rose, we were trapped in the hotel rooms, I looked at Shane and said "Let's go home." We ended up hanging out at home and had a much better time. It should have been a sign.

Last year, I got sick on the last day and spent the next 5 days recovering from my "vacation."
And this doesn't count the amount of vomit I've cleaned out of the car from various road trips over the years.

Something always happens.

But here's the thing... if it happens at home I do not have to pay out of network co-pays. I don't have to pay to sit in a hotel room with a sick child. I don't have to pay a dogsitter. We can do all the fun things that we want without the headache or expense.

We are saving to put in a pool next year. If we have a pool, I see no reason to EVER leave my home for entertainment. EVER.

My family thinks I'm kidding. I'm not.

Momming on the road stinks.

Next year, we will swim all day, play cards and board games at night and I will make pancakes in fun shapes for breakfast. We'll cook out or get dressed up and go some place nice on the strip. Maybe even see a show. Maybe we can even dress in costumes and pretend we're in a foreign country. Shane will LOVE that.

Honestly, we have a pretty fun life on a regular day- I don't think I need a vacation to spice things up or make them more fun.

So there, vacation gods, you win.

I am done.

But rats... I still have 6 states to go....and South Dakota was really lovely.... aside from the broken leg... maybe a cruise would be better...

Curly Hair

2011-07-11T21:10:00.000-07:00

I have naturally curly hair.

I always have.

I was born this way.

I think my personality and temperament have been formed based on this fact.

How?

Well, from an early age I learned that I cannot control the universe as I cannot control my hair.

Unlike many of my curly haired counterparts, I like my curly hair. I look absolutely ridiculous with straight hair. I have a long face and a long nose. Straight hair seems to emphasize this. For those of you that remember the photo from my "makeover" for my 40th birthday- I looked like the daughter from "The Incredibles"- it's not a good look. My hair is coarse and heavy and when I straighten it, it doesn't move and doesn't look shiny.

My hair would not move and I could not see out of my left eye. No joke.

During the monsoon season, as my friends fight their hair, I am happy. My hair springs into shape and looks just like it has every other day of my life.

Curly.

In fact, my only complaint about having curly hair is the unsolicited advice I get from people- friends and strangers- on what to do with it. Seriously. It's almost as bad as people touching my belly when I was pregnant.

I like my hair.

I like that it does whatever it wants, whenever it wants.

I like that I don't waste hours (and cumulatively days and months) on styling my hair.

I like that I have three hairstyles- up, down and short. It saves me time contemplating and more time to focus on more important things. Like which shade of lipstick to wear.

I like that when I get out of a pool, I look pretty much the same as when I went in.

I like it. Just like I like me.

I was a junior in high school when I completely gave up trying to fight my hair. Growing up in a fairly WASP-y area, there were only a handful of us that had curly hair in my graduating class. I definitely got teased about it- even had the nickname Pube for awhile in band (fortunately, I shot that one down pretty quickly with some smart ass comment)- but by the time I was 17 I figured, screw it.

This is also about the time that 2 things happened for curly haired women-

Ain't no stopping me or my hair.

Hair mousse and Hope on "Days of Our Lives" with her curly, flowing hair.

Suddenly, I didn't look like a frizzy haired freak.

I will always remember my friend Steph's mom coming up to me after a band concert and giving me a big hug. She got a kick out of watching my bobbed, curly hair bounce up and down while I played my trombone (the rest of the girls in the band all had long, french braided hair and played nice woodwind instruments). She told me to never change. I haven't.

I let my hair grow long in college because I couldn't afford hair cuts and suddenly I became known for my gorgeous, long locks. I had some friends with similar hair (college was a bit more diverse than my high school!) and we would sit together and were known as The Wall of Hair. It was the first thing men noticed. It was a great accessory in my 20's. I didn't get any more Pube jokes, either. Oh, and Julia Roberts, Andi McDowell, Julia Louis-Dreyfus all helped with mainstreaming big, curly hair.


It was a very humid day for the college senior pictures.

And now, as a mom, with a short cut, I just toss it a bit, and I'm good to go. I don't worry about windy days- it always looks the same. I don't worry about humid days- it doesn't matter. It's a curly mop atop my head.

I've learned a lot from my curly hair. I've learned patience. I've learned that it's always better to go with what's true to you and not what everyone else thinks. I've learned that it's more important to embrace what's good about yourself rather than focus on the bad. I've learned that it's best to be me.

So if you see me and have the urge to offer me advice on straightening my hair- don't. I like it just the way it is.

No, wait, I love it.

You can keep your irons, your chemicals, your glazes, your constant fear of the slightest bit of moisture.

As for me, I will keep my big, crazy, unmanageable, uncontrollable, unkempt curly locks.

Consider it my rebellion.

Our New Panini Press

2011-07-06T20:38:00.000-07:00

Yes, after my last post about having stuff, I now own a panini press.

Let me explain.

I used to have small, $9.99 sandwich press. It was great for making grilled cheese, breakfast sandwiches, etc. It could turn a regular lunch into a fabulous, toasty event. Turkey and cheese became a delicious melt. Even peanut butter and jelly took on a new face with a little heat.

And then my husband used it.

Sigh.

I adore my husband.

I just really wish he wouldn't break my stuff.

This was not the first time something that I owned bit the big one at the hands of Mr. Bean. Mr. Bean and his Giant Man Hands of Destruction.

Last fall, it was my travel coffee mugs. I sometimes would take hot tea or make a cup of coffee to take to the office. I tend to get quite a few travel mugs from wholesalers. I used to have more than I knew what to do with. Used to.

Then, for some reason, my husband suddenly started to drink coffee.

Thus began the demise of my travel coffee mug collection.

First, it was one I actually bought. A nice Starbucks one. My favorite. The handle "snapped" off. It was poorly made, I was told. When I argued that I had had it for 7 years, I was then informed that it was probably old.

The next one fell off his bumper.

The third one, I have no idea. I think the little cover thing also "snapped" off.

This was all within 10 days.

There was the toddler bed that "broke" when it was assembled. Spatulas seem to really go fast. The list goes on.

I'm not exactly sure what attracts him to my things. Or why he can be so careful with his things, but mine magically break simply from his touch.

It's become an ongoing joke. After the coffee cup incidents, he finally realized that I was, perhaps, not exaggerating. He does have the amazing ability to break my stuff. Fortunately, as per the aforementioned blog, I'm not too attached to most of it.

What really bugged me though, was that the broken items were never replaced. I don't need 4 coffee mugs, but you know, one is quite nice. (SIDE NOTE: We now have more than we need because the kids and I kept teasing him about it, so everyone we know bought me a travel mug for Christmas. Shane even got me a very lovely Starbucks mug- although it was not quite the same...)

The sandwich press, however, did upset me. Largely because I used it. Quite a bit. Not every week, but probably every other. I took care of it. I came home one day and there it was- dead on the counter.

"Oh, yeah, that broke. Sorry."

"Seriously?"

"Well, you never used it."

"Yes I do. I use it when I make the kids lunch. Don't I kids?" Always good to bring the kids into an argument. I know. I suck.

"Well, it's not that big a deal."

"No, because it's not yours. I think I'm going to go out to your tool bench and break something..."

"You're really upset about it?"

"Yes. It was the best $10 I've spent."

"So it was cheap? That's probably why it broke."

"NO, IT BROKE BECAUSE YOU USED IT. YOU BREAK EVERYTHING." Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. "WHAT ABOUT MY COFFEE MUGS?" Bringing up the past is a good technique, don't you think?

Anyhow, after seeing me completely lose it about a silly sandwich press, my husband (who, by the way was making the kids lunch so I didn't have to) felt bad. He looked at his giant, destructo hands as if they were murder weapons.

And today I came home to find a Cuisinart Panini Press on the counter.

He even used it and didn't break it.

Yet.

Stuff and Things, Things and Stuff and Having Enough

2011-07-01T21:08:00.000-07:00

I really don't care for stuff.

And by stuff, I mean stuff.

I will never get it. Ever. Our culture's quest for more.

Before "more" meant better. Better designs. Better research. Better systems. Better lives.

Now it simply means more.

More crap.

I drive around my neighborhood where half the homes have either been in foreclosure or headed that way, and people have so much stuff they can't even park in their garages.

My son even gets it.

When he was 4, we were driving around our neighborhood at Halloween. People had decorated their homes beyond imagine. Haunted houses, graveyards- it was fun to see. When he asked why we didn't decorate like that, I said we did decorate, but not to that extent. It was expensive and we chose to spend our money on other things.

"Like my college fund?"

"Yes, Skip. That's exactly right. Like your college fund."

I was a little scared that I had sucked all the fun out of his childhood.

Until the next year.

We were driving around and we noticed that the same house that had caught his attention was in foreclosure. Another one. I quietly said to my husband "Look, another foreclosure." We both sighed. From the back seat I heard...

"Well, I guess they shouldn't have spent their money on Halloween decorations!"

Yep.

I know that many people have lost jobs, lost incomes, etc., and I appreciate that. Truly. But in this case, you know, he was probably right.

When did we become a culture where a smart phone became a necessity? When did having the latest and the biggest and the best outweigh simply having enough?

Vacations are luxuries.

Manicures are special treats.

iPad's are lovely, but not vital.

I fear we have become a culture of materialistic gluttony rather than simply having enough.

You need 2 sets of sheets, not 5. Your kids don't need so many toys that you can't contain them. You don't need 75 pairs of shoes. EVER.

Don't get me wrong, I like nice things. I sew. I know there's a difference between well made clothes and crap. I prefer wearing a well made pair of shoes to Payless glued faux leather one. My Henckel knife is wonderful to use. I prefer the Ritz-Carlton to the Super 8.

But honestly, I don't need any of it.

Especially things like jewelry.

One of my friends got engaged and was showing off her ring. It was very pretty. In fact, that's what I said. Apparently, from the look on her face, I should have made more of a fuss.

So, what I said was, sensing her disappointment, was "Yes, it's a very pretty, shiny rock."

She rolled her eyes as if I didn't "get" it.

I got it.

It was, in fact, a very, pretty, shiny rock. It came from very far away. Someone probably risked his or her life to get it. Some poor miner who was simply trying to feed his family, took a risk so she could wear a shiny rock on her finger.

What is was not, however, was a representation of his love for her. Just because her shiny rock is bigger than my shiny rock does not mean that her husband loves her any more than my husband loves me.

It meant his family had more money and gave it to him to buy her a big, shiny rock because she likes big, shiny things and would have complained relentlessly if he had not gotten her the exact big, shiny rock that she wanted.

Yea, that's love baby.

Congratulations on your big, shiny rock.

When we bought our house, the realtor said "You know, you can afford the bigger model." No, we couldn't. We qualified for the bigger model, but it would have cut down on our extra money to travel or to save. Plus, we didn't need the bigger model. We don't even need what we have now.

We have enough.

We are not stuff people.

I don't need the latest gadget to look cool. I don't care about being cool in the least. I left junior high a long, long time ago.

I think it's much more important who I am versus what I have.

I had hoped that after the recession people had learned to value and appreciate what they have. That staying home and playing cards made just as many family memories as expensive trips and ridiculous, over the top birthday parties.

It doesn't seem to be that way.

I think the opposite happened.

People seem angry. As if something was taken away from them. They deserve bikini waxes, manicures, vacations, BMW's, $4 coffees- huh?

I don't think I do.

I am privileged to have a career that I love, doing something I believe.

I am thankful that I met my husband.

I am blessed and grateful that I have 2 healthy, intelligent, funny children.

I am happy that I live in a country with so many freedoms.

I am fortunate to be healthy.

Quite simply, I have enough. And then some. And you can't buy any of it on QVC.

My Grandma's Cookbook

2011-06-26T15:13:00.000-07:00

So as you know, I've spent the past week at home recovering. The side effects from one of the medications due to some minor complications pretty much laid me out for most of the week. It's also kept me on the couch watching way too much TV, in particular the Food Network. Today we watched an episode of "The Barefoot Contessa" and she made Italian Wedding Soup.

While it looked delicious, it did not look anything like my grandmother's Italian Wedding Soup. I don't make it often because it truly is for special occasions. You cook a whole chicken, make the meatballs from scratch- it's a process. And it tastes insanely delicious.

Anyhow, as we watched the show, I grabbed my cookbook that my grandmother had written for me to compare to what Ina was doing. I flipped through and saw Banana Sour Cream Cake. I had some old bananas and thought, rather than make my usual muffins, I'd make the cake. So I read through the recipes....

What, you asked? Your grandmother handwrote a cookbook?

Yes. In 1989, before even word processors, my grandmother had enough foresight to write down all our family recipes. And not just for me, for all 11 of the cousins. She included some words of wisdom, her favorite poems, comments on the recipes- who gave it to her (usually just a first name, as if I would know to whom she was referring), the year, if it was from a magazine, if was "Joe's favorite" etc. I love a particular spice cake from 1920. It's a great compilation of my family history.

Now before you get all nostalgic and start "Wow, that Mama Bean has a perfect life. What a wonderful grandma!" I should point out that my grandmother and I did not have a huggy, touchy kind of relationship.

My grandmother had a life very typical of first generation Americans. Her family lost their grocery store during the Depression. All of her brothers (she was one of 12) fought in every branch of the military during WWII. Her son served in Vietnam. She didn't wear pants until after my grandfather passed away in the early 70's. She scrubbed her walls (I've never done this). Her house smelled fresh. She had an amazing garden. And she cooked.

She also was not a huge fan of me as a child. I had a bit of a speech problem, so that probably set the stage. I was also, quite honestly, a strange kid. I was fairly quiet and shy (try not to laugh), lived in my books and kept to myself somewhat. Particularly during our large family gatherings. Let's face it, she thought I was a little weird. How do I know this, well, she wasn't a shy a woman...

But we spent a lot of time with her growing up. I loved her stories about growing up, when she cleaned houses, how she learned to cook (our "family" lasagna recipe is off the back of the lasagna noodle box), and we spent a lot of time in her yellow kitchen.

Throughout my teen years, I came out of my shell and developed my more, um, how shall I say, opinionated personality. We argued a bit. My grandmother could be a touch dramatic and I would call her on it. As a story teller, I sometime would fact check her. I went from being a weird kid to an annoying teen. But still, I hung out with her and bugged her.

And I think all of the grandkids, with the exception of my sister who was the favorite, had the same relationship. She was a hard nut to please. I always cringe because in my handwritten, beloved cookbook, there is a photo of me. It is the WORST picture of me ever taken. I think she did it on purpose to keep me humble. If I get a chance, I will scan it and add it. Maybe. It's that bad.


Yes, I know. I look like Sonny Bono and Roseanne Roseannadanna's love child.		Thank God for braces. And hair mousse.

She always saw herself as a teacher and I can honestly say my cousins- including the boys- are some of the best cooks I know. And having worked in hospitality and living in Vegas, I know a lot of chefs- my cousins and I can hold our own. We have a passion for food and cooking and it comes from that yellow kitchen.

Then, something funny happened. Similar to this week, I found myself with some time on my hands about 9 years ago. I gave birth to my son and was working from home, taking some time for maternity leave, etc. I also was incredibly bored. He slept. I worked. I hate day time TV. So I started to call my grandma. I think it started with a question on a recipe. She tended to say things like "add a can of...." without anything. She probably had had a phone call or someone drop in while she was working on the cookbook.

The following year, she became ill and my dad, who had just retired, starting to sit with her during the day. Since I had always called my dad almost daily, this turned into nearly daily calls with my grandmother. When I took Skip to meet her, she fell in love with him. She, like me, was not a baby person, so we were both surprised by this. Our conversations usually focused on her new favorite relative, Skip. She even told me she thought I was a great mom. Of course it was couched with "I wouldn't have expected that." Sigh. But then again, if I'm honest with myself, I didn't expect it either.

I went to visit her a few months before she passed away. I knew it would be the last visit. When I got to my parent's house, my aunt called me, almost frantic, saying Grandma was asking when I was coming over with my Chicken Parmesan and homemade sauce.

What?

Well, she said you told her you found a great sauce recipe and she wants to try it.

I had. I did. I frantically called my husband, got the recipe, ran to the store and that night I took it to my grandma.

She devoured it.

My aunts were stunned. Apparently, she hadn't been eating much.

Then she turned to me and said the words that every Italian granddaughter wants to hear from her grandmother.

"I like your sauce. You used oregano. I never did.... I like it better than mine."

WOW.

A good mom and a good sauce.

My grandma and I were good to go. Whatever disapproval she had shared with me during my life, it was all erased at that moment.

She passed away 3 months later.

So today, as I was making the Banana Cake, and I reduced the sugar, added some whole wheat flour, etc, I started to feel a little guilty. It seemed sacrilegious modifying a family recipe.

And then I remembered the oregano.

The reason my grandma and I finally started to get along was because she had developed respect for me during her last two years. She treated me like a peer. I had always been the one to argue back and not cower from her. I think, in the end, she liked it.

Just like she liked my sauce.

As I added the new ingredients, made my own notes in the margins, I could almost hear my grandma in heaven saying "Hmmm... yogurt instead of sour cream... oh, toffee chips- I never thought of that."

Thanks, Grandma!

Blogging and a Thank You

2011-06-24T15:19:00.000-07:00

I have been writing my blog for 6 months now. It started after I noticed that my friend's parents were requesting to friend me on Facebook. When I asked them why their mom/dad wanted to be my friend, they all said "I read them your posts and they crack up." I threw out the idea of blogging to the Facebook world and was shocked at the positive responses.

On the flip side, I've had a few people roll their eyes at my blogging. As if they were far superior and so incredibly busy they couldn't fathom doing something so useless.

It's not useless.

And yes, I am busy, too. I have a business, 2 kids, and try to be a good wife. I can't talk about my business on the internet, but I will say, this spring has been insane with staffing and other issues.

Blogging has been a great release.

I am very honestly touched when people say they look forward to my blogs. I had a friend who I hadn't spoken to in awhile call me, simply to thank me for changing her outlook on things. Wow.

I get excited when I see someone repost something on their wall on Facebook. Silly, maybe, but it's nice. It's fun to be quoted.

It's also been fun to see where people are reading my blog. I have a fairly consistent following in Denmark and Malaysia. India is picking up, as is Germany. I find that completely insane.

I've also been intrigued by which ones are "popular." It's never the ones I think. The sunshiny ones seem most popular. I'm always hesitant to wane too philosophical- I don't want to sound preachy. It's nice to know that when I want to, people shake their heads in agreement more than roll their eyes.

It's been great to see my readership expand. I'm not a huge blog, but every week it's picking up. I was just talking to my friend Kim yesterday about it. She spends a large portion of her time working in Africa and has a great blog on her travels, fund raising for the Team Rwanda cycling team- cool stuff (I have a link at the bottom). I understand why people read her blog. I told her I was shocked that people found my mundane perspective entertaining. But it's fun. I've also gotten competitive (as is my nature) to see how I can continue to build on it. Sad, but true!

So today, my last day of my recovery week, I just wanted to say thank you. When I'm having a bad day, it's nice to see that someone thought I did something well.

Feel free to comment at the bottom of the blogs I write. Feel free to share. I really enjoy the commentary!!!

Have a great weekend!!

Mama Bean's World: The blog you've all been waiting for...

2011-06-22T11:13:00.000-07:00

Mama Bean's World: The blog you've all been waiting for...: "I was going to title this 'My Vegas Boob Job' but now that I am getting more familiar with how these search engines work and tracking keywor..."

The blog you've all been waiting for...

2011-06-22T11:12:00.000-07:00

I was going to title this "My Vegas Boob Job" but now that I am getting more familiar with how these search engines work and tracking keywords, I opted to try to limit the pervs to my site.

Anyhow, as you may have known, I recently decided to have "the girls" reduced.

Oddly, once I announced this publicly, on Facebook, I was inundated with a number of private messages to please let everyone know how it went because they were considering the surgery themselves.

Before you think I've gone all Vegas on you-- rest assured, I'm still quite grounded-- this was medically necessary. My insurance may have disagreed, but I will be arguing with them on that point. You see, they removed more than they had anticipated- the maximum possible, in fact without causing damage to my blood flow (more on that later)- and it was all fibrocystic tissue. Very heavy fibrocystic tissue. I jokingly say that it feels as if a weight has been lifted from me. It has. I did not have marshmallow boobies. I truly had some boulders.

Basically, I could have been exercising my little butt off for the next 10 years, stayed fat, damaged my back and I still would have had giant, heavy boobs. I knew this. It just took a $7800 gamble for me to prove it.

So the details...

In order to do reduction mammoplasty, they basically cut around your nipple (they do not cut it off), reposition to a high place on your breast, make a U incision underneath your breast with a straight line up (think anchor). They suck out the tissue (in my case, NOT FAT!!!), remove excess skin, sew everything back up and you're on your way out the door.

When I went in for the surgery, I had a complete "Nip/Tuck" moment-- they drew on my chest. I asked for a happy face. The poor surgeon, Dr. Cameron Earl, had no idea what he was getting into when he took me on as a patient. When I asked to be a large B, small C, he laughed. He then explained that he couldn't. I could hear men around the world the sigh in relief in unison (my male friends have all been fascinated by why I would ever want this done....). Basically, due to blood flow to my nipple, they are limited on the amount of tissue that can be removed. In a normal "medically necessary" reduction, they will remove 500 grams from each breast. He said maybe a large C.

During the surgery, they removed 650g+ from each of mine- which surprised the surgeon. This limited the "size" reduction that was possible- I'm still a D cup more than likely but can I tell ya, 1300 g of weight off my chest is quite lovely. The fibrocystic tissue weighs more than fatty tissue (which I could have reduced with weight loss). If I had been doing this for cosmetic purpose, I might have been more upset, but considering the results (stay tuned), I'm good with a D cup.

I woke up a few hours later in the recovery area. I had the surgery done out patient, at a surgical center, by the way. I don't do well with anesthesia, so I expected to be nauseous. What I didn't expect was that my back- the reason I was there- had gone out in surgery. I can't lie on my back for long- and certainly not 4 hours. Dr. Earl joked that he hadn't touched my back, but I will say, I think it reinforced the fact that I really wasn't joking about my back pain. It felt the same as Friday mornings, after tap class on Thursday nights.

I didn't puke. Which shocked me. I think the back pain was worse than the nausea.

Because of the cystic nature of the tissue, I was put on antibiotics for a few days and my drains were kept in. I had a feeling they would leave them in over the weekend, which they did. By far, the drains have been the most uncomfortable part of the recovery-- I couldn't sleep on my side. I ended up sleeping in the recliner and propped up in couches (our bed is fairly high and hard to get in and out of without using my arms to push). So that part sucked.

So the surgery itself was not bad. It felt/feels like a series of papercuts. It's starting to itch a bit. Nothing awful.

But wait- here's the fun stuff.

Anesthesia and painkillers slow your system. Antibiotics give you diarrhea. Or at least me. I've always joked they should just pay me to test every drug- I get every side effect known to man. I think it's called "environmental sensitivity"- my body hates drugs. Anyhow, I basically was constipated with gas. Once my back pain subsided, the gas pains started. And they sucked. I finally gave up the pain pills (which were just Tylenol with Codeine because I'm allergic to the good stuff). I'm still working my way through that.

Then on Saturday I decided to change my bra. The surgical one they had given me wasn't big enough (again, they weren't anticipating the extensiveness of the cysts), so it was a nice C cup. My amazing husband (who is not getting enough credit in this for his patience), went to JCPenney and picked up a bra. To minimize his discomfort in the lady things department, I called ahead and they set it aside. Anyhow, when I put on the new bra, I hit my nipple. That caused a vasovagal syncope-- simply put I passed out. If you've been a friend of mine for a long time, you know, I pass out frequently. My husband panicked, call 911 and fortunately I woke up quickly. He called Dr. Earl who recommended that I elevate my feet and drink a ton of Gatorade. Which I did. All was well. I think the damage to Shane's heart was substantially greater than anything to mine.

And then there is my nipple. That bloodflow issue I mentioned, earlier? Well, my nipple started to look a little Cajun- you know blackened? Not a good thing to have a Cajun nipple. It wasn't horrible and was a somewhat expected side effect, but still. I kept having this vision of having a NUK pacifier implanted to replace my dead nipple. Realistically, what would more than likely happen would be the tissue would deaden and fall off and a new nipple would grow. Or a new nipple would grow and deeper tissue would fall off which would result in a skin graft with a nice tattooed nipple (I would have gone with a happy face, I think). But again, the doctor is excellent, so he prescribed a nitropaste to revive the bloodflow to the area. It is working nicely. Oh, but the side effects- could cause me to pass out (in fact, he said "will more than likely for you") and has given me excruciating headaches. Which are making me nauseous. I haven't passed out though. I normally ditch medications that make me sick, but the thought of no nipple clearly motivates me to suck it up through the headaches. You just don't want to talk to me any time until I'm off it. I'm not nice. I don't get headaches often and I have a new found sympathy for those that get migraines.

But how do I feel- aside from the side effects of the drugs?

Amazing.

My mid back- which had been the issue- feels normal. I can sit up. I put on a shirt and could button it. I'm not hunched over. My shoulders are relaxed. It is amazing how great I feel after such a short period of time. I feel like I want to run. Which I can't for another 6 weeks. But still. My energy level is through the roof.

From a cosmetic standpoint, there is bruising. Looks like my boobs were used for punching bags. They are in the post yellow, purplish phase now. And it was hilarious to take off my bra and they stayed put- that's been a long time since that's happened. Oh, and I look about 20 pounds thinner. No joke.

How do I know this? Both my kids gasped when they saw me. I look that different to them. I trust them. They are children. They are unfiltered.

From a negative standpoint, my greatest fear prior to the surgery was realized- my ass, does in fact, look bigger. Actually, my stomach- albeit it's bloated- looks scary. But since neither is full of cystic tissue and I can actually move again, I'll deal with that in 6 weeks.

A few things still concern me. My Cajun nipple should be fine, but it's still not 100%. I'm concerned about loss of sensation, although that really seems to be coming back. I'm very concerned that since this wasn't fatty tissue, that the cysts could recur and I'll be right back where I started. Hopefully, if I can get my weight down quickly, my hormones will rebalance and I can avoid that somewhat. I'd hate to be right back where I was in a few years. I'm not concerned that losing weight will shrink my boobs to A cups-- that had been a concern before it was apparent the tissue was not fat. I'm still not sure where things will land, so to speak, but overall, everything looks well proportioned.

Would I do it again? Yes.

Was it easy? No. I'm still recovering. A friend said she was recovered in a few days- I don't buy it. I think she must have just had a lift. This was much more difficult than I had anticipated and the drug reactions are still not making me happy.

Would I recommend it? I think if you are as uncomfortable as I was, don't think twice about it. I would not have done this simply for cosmetic purposes. If you just want a lift, I would recommend a good bra. I was in pain before, so this is nothing.

I wanted to have something out there for people to read that was an honest account of the procedure. I'm not embarrassed to have had this done by any means. And I think if anyone is considering it, they shouldn't be embarrassed either. Based on the emails I received, I know I'm not alone.

So I said I would keep you abreast... also, a very heartfelt thank you for all the kind wishes. I feel guilty. This is nothing compared to my friends fighting cancer. And I mean nothing. I look at what they go through- talk about side effects- and I feel bad complaining about a little gas and a headache. I am very lucky to be in great health, have an excellent team of doctors, and a wonderful husband.

And that's the scoop from Mama Bean's World today!

My Dad

2011-06-17T22:11:00.000-07:00

I know you wanted to hear more about my boobs, but that will have to wait. In short, I'm thrilled with the surgery and based on the actual tissue removed, I am confident that my insurance company will be covering the costs.

But since it's Father's Day on Sunday, I wanted to write about my dad.

We've always been fairly close. My dad gets me.

When he realized I was smart, he was ecstatic. He immediately tried to teach me 10 times more than what my second grade math homework required. The next time I asked him a question on homework was my senior year. It was calculus. He wished me well.

When I was accepted into Cornell I called him at work. We had discussed that if I got in, I probably would not be able to go. I had a free ride to Ohio University and it made sense for me to go there financially (free is always good). I was surprised when he said "That is great. Listen, I may not be able to give you a million dollars, but I will be sure to help you get an education so you can earn it yourself. We'll make it work." Pretty cool, huh?

When I was contemplating leaving a cushy job at Pepsi to drive across country, take a huge pay cut and work at The Mirage my dad laughed and asked me "Is this one of the times you are asking me what I would do so you can do the opposite?" I sheepishly said yes. He told me he would stay with the cushy job, but thought I shouldn't. He said he had no regrets on what he'd done, only the things he hadn't. I moved west. Best decision ever.

When I had started in my current career, had $8.13 in my checking account and my best friend who had just graduated from Harvard Law School was coming to visit before starting her well paid job, I called my dad and said I was feeling really depressed. Because depression runs in our family, I was worried I might be suffering from it. He said "No sweetie, it's not depression. Your life sucks right now. If I were you, I'd be depressed, too." And then we laughed. He was right.

When I went through more than one engagement, he took it in stride. When my husband called to ask him for my hand in marriage my dad's comment "Good luck getting her down the aisle."

My very conservative father even got used to me shacking up. He said while he was morally opposed to it, he thought it had saved me from making some bad decisions on marriage. I had changed his mind.

Like I said, he just gets me.

I can count on one hand the number of fights we've had-- I think two- in my life. Not bad. I was not a volatile teenager. He was not a controlling dad. Not sure which came first, though.

One time, when I fell asleep at my boyfriend's house and came home after 2 am, he said nothing. He did wake me up, make me go to 8 am mass (which he usually didn't make- he was a noon mass goer) and then kept me busy all day. At the end of the day when I said I was exhausted, he simply said "I guess you shouldn't stay out until 2 am." Point made. Never did it again.

We are close in the way that good friends are- we can talk about anything, often to his discomfort. I have never lied to my parents. Sometimes, I'm sure they wished I would have.

My father has always been my biggest fan, my biggest critic and my most trusted resource. I would not be the person I am today without his honest feedback. He has never held back and I've always taken it as a sign of respect. He has never blown smoke up my ass.

We have an untraditional father-daughter relationship in some respects- more like colleagues. But I wouldn't change it for the world. We know each other's flaws (which are nearly identical) and I think it gives us a richer, more genuine relationship.

So many of my friends have lost their fathers over the past few years. I feel very lucky and fortunate to have mine around and I hope I do for a very long time. I would be lost without him.

Happy Father's Day, Dad! I love you!

Thanks for the Mammaries....

2011-06-15T22:10:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is the big day.

The deboobectomy.

Or more technically, the reductive mammoplasty.

My insurance has denied it. I will appeal.

I will not, however, wait.

Apparently, in the world of insurance, the less you use it, the less you can use it. If I were a hypochondriac or pill popper I probably would have no issue.

Because I am fat, I can not get the surgery. I am a GIANT -size 16. I know, how can I even fit through the door? My BMI is 2 points higher than the average American. Yes, I realize that is not the best comparative pool, but hey, it's the pool my insurance company uses.

Ironically, I am fat, because I can not exercise because of my back pain. My last blog about returning to the gym was followed by a week on prednisone.

Oh well.

Screw them.

It's worth the money.

At least that's what every single woman I've talked to who has had the surgery has said.

I am looking forward to a few things--

Blouses that stay buttoned.
Wearing a blazer.
Wearing the proper size, so the shoulders don't hang halfway down my arms.
Exercising.
Jumping jacks.
Tap dancing.
Buying a bra in a department store.
Sleeping on my stomach.
Sleeping on my side.
Getting out of bed without it being a major event.
Walking upright.
Sitting upright.
Seeing my feet.

Clearly, it's cosmetic. Because when you think Mama Bean, you think High Maintenance Woman. Please, I have 10 times more books than shoes. At least.

Idiots.

ANYHOW, the upside to all this, have been the HILARIOUS commentaries from my friends on Facebook. I've been told that it is inappropriate to discuss this, but honestly, I don't see what the big deal is (well, technically it's two big deals). It's kinda funny. It's boobs. It's also fairly obvious- if it wasn't, I wouldn't be having the surgery!

I've had friends wish me the breast.
Apologize for coming in under the wire on their wishes.
Sharing their mammaries.
Hope that I nip my back pain.
Want me to keep them abreast of my recovery.
Reminding me what a great weight will be lifted off my chest.
Leaving uplifting messages.
Said ta-ta to my ta-ta's.
Told me the breast is yet to come.
Recommended breast transplantation services.
Suggested that I milk the recovery period.

So in summary, I have the breast friends a girl could have.

And yes, I will be sure to keep you all abreast!!

Ta ta for now---

Mama Bean

Doing A 180: Friday is for Flowers, Fashion, Fingers

2011-06-12T22:18:00.000-07:00

Doing A 180: Friday is for Flowers, Fashion, Fingers

Mama Bean's World: My Dog Charlie

2011-06-12T20:50:00.000-07:00

Mama Bean's World: My Dog Charlie: "I have a 13 1/2 year old Bichon Frise named Charlie the Bear. He is something else. In many ways, he is a complete and total pain in the ..."