As I left for my physical today, I stopped for a moment and wondered.

Which am I looking forward to the least–stepping on the scale or getting a
PAP smear?

The PAP? Wasn’t the worst I had.

*sigh*

as to my lack of domestic goddessness.

The hubs just brought the ironing board and iron up to press his shirt for our date tonight (don’t get all excited, we’re going to a wedding–you think he’d iron for me??).

Mr. 4: Dad? What’s that?
Hubs: *steals a glance at me and chuckles*
Mr. 4: I mean what does it do?

Two minutes later…

Mr. 5: Dad? What’s that?? What are you doing?

In my defense (and his), I did offer to iron the shirt for him but he wanted to do it himself. And honestly, I don’t mind ironing. It’s like vacuuming–you get immediate gratification for your efforts, but I don’t have a place to leave my iron set up so we just don’t do it much and neither of us are that partial to button down shirts–they’re just not that comfortable.

UPDATE:
Hubs gave it a shot with limited success. He’s decided to let me “take a stab” at eliminating the wrinkles. Gotta go. Off to make Fussy proud.

First, Happy New Year!

Second, allow me to let down the facade of the self-possessed, organized, energetic, happy and productive woman/sex goddess/mother/wife/employee that I love to fantasize is really me.

What?! You weren’t fooled? Sheesh.

It’s only January 3rd and I’m having a panic attack at this very moment. I feel so overwhelmed by the incredible number of obligations hanging over my head. The very anxiety they are causing is further preventing me from accomplishing any of it.

My hope is that by sending this out to the world some of it will diminish, so I can go back to my peaceful world of soft, furry unicorns and rainbow-striped excrement. It’s such a happier place…and way more colorful.

Blogging friends, if ever there was a time I needed you it is now.

I had Live with Regis and Kelly on this morning as I was getting ready (Anderson Cooper was sitting in for Regis–he’s funny and I’ll admit here I’ve watched Kelly since she was on Dance Party USA) and Michael Bolton was on singing some Christmas tunes.

Here’s the problem.

When he was chatting with Kelly and AC at the end, I actually thought to myself, “Hmmm. He’s kinda cute. I can finally see what makes the girls swoon.”

OMFG!!!

I’ve hit a new low.

Kris and Kim–my girls–come hit me over the head now before I set up my own fan page.

I know I just got done telling you all that I’d be putting review type posts over on Maybe Mamma Loves, but it’s 11:28 p.m. and still too early in NaBloPoMo for me to drop out, so I hope you’ll humor me.

Jenny at AbBan (cute huh? I just made that up) has started a monthly feature where bloggers share their best beauty tips. Feel free to join in the fun.

If you’ve been reading along with the folks at home for any length of time, you know I have a bit of a girl crush on my esthetician (aka the best eyebrow waxer EVER!!). If I weren’t adopted and had some information about my ethnic background, I would, at this very moment, be cursing whatever heritage is responsible for my ridiculously hairy eyebrows. Minor segue: Why is my body hair so dark when the hair on top of my head insists on turning silver?

You see the thing about those caterpillar-like brows is that I did, as a consolation prize, win some fairly dark, long eyelashes (hey even the losers get lucky some time–name the artist). Since I do have these eyelashes, I like to play them up (ooh, there’s a good tip: Play up your best feature.) .

More than a decade ago, I discovered lash primer. The beauty of lash primer is that it provides your lashes with extra thickness and length and separates them leaving the mascara to provide the color. It really does make a difference.

I used to use the Estee Lauder brand as it was the only company that seemed to sell it at the time. It came in its own little tube and you’d apply it before your mascara. The problem with the Estee Lauder brand was that it was more expensive and you had to carry around an extra tube.

Then Maybelline discovered this secret that all make-up artists already knew and came up with a terrific two-in-one tube that included both and at a far lower price. Let’s just say I’ve been hooked.

Try it on. Let me know what you think. I’m a big fan.

Share your tips & tricks! Write your own Hot Mamas Know post on your blog, and then go on over to Jenny’s blog and add a link to it using her Mr. Linky. (get code for the graphic and more details on entering this event here)

I can’t wait to see what everyone shares.

I know. I know. It’s been kind of serious and dreary here lately.

I’ve done nothing to embarrass myself (that much) lately, so there’s nothing there.

None of the boys have named any more body parts, so that’s a dry well.

I was pretty psyched that I got a mention on Daily Kos the other day, but not a referral from it. Harumph!

Oh! And I did get to sign my son’s not so stellar Social Studies test today. When did I become responsible enough to sign a test??!

I felt like I was forging my mom’s signature.

PS–The blog is pink for the month of October because it’s Breast Cancer Awareness month, duh!! Check your boobs. And learn more.

The team was down 6-2. They had just come out of the bottom of the last inning holding the opposing team to no runs, and you could finally feel some energy building in the dugout.

The first three batters got on base and stayed on base. In other words, the bases were loaded.

And then my ten year-old son came up to bat.

And there was a pitch.

And there was a swing.

And the ball hit the bat perfectly.

The ball–that beautiful ball–soared over the infielders’ heads, over the outfielder’s head and straight out over the center field fence!

His first home run. A GRAND SLAM!

And I was cheering. And I was yelling. And I was trying to capture it on video. And I was jumping up and down.

And to go along with the theme of this season…

I peed.

Just a little.

I just told Kelly that I think I lost my sense of humor in traffic a few weeks ago. I seriously don’t have much to blog about, but I hate going silent for days.

The little photo you see of me when I comment on your blog–or in my profile…well my hair is much longer now. As I mentioned a while back, my hairdresser had the nerve to move out of the area (without asking my permission) and as a result I haven’t had a hair cut since September.

Luckily, I can tell my hair is growing by the ever increasing skunk stripe running down my part.

And while I’m on hair…why is it that all the hair on my head is going grey, but my leg hair remains dark, dark, dark?!

If I’m going to:

a.) spend a fortune pretending I’m still a brunette
b.) stain my bathroom from floor to ceiling trying to save money on salon costs or
c.) look like an old hag

Why can’t I at least have the benefit of lighter leg hair?

Does all your pubic hair eventually go grey, will it fall out/stop growing first or will I need to spend my nest egg pruning the bush (es)?

Do the stop signs in parking garages hold legal weight? Can I get a ticket for blowing off a stop sign in a parking garage? I tend to view them as suggestions. But really, can police officers just skulk around a garage hanging out behind the next turn when they need to fill their ticket quota? I would.

I love growing things.

I’ve been seing all these photos of new infants lately and every time I look at one I feel like I’m going to start lactating. I really think I’d love to have another (that would be number four for those keeping score at home), but the very thought sends Shakey into a catatonic state (once he finishes hyperventilating).

So I garden instead.

I was going to put the cutest bumper around my vegetable garden but it made it too hard to weed.

Okay listen. I can’t hang around here all day chatting. I’m supposed to be earning a paycheck. You’re such a bad influence.

Any good blog topics for me?

I have an idea. Let’s do a reverse Linda “Duran Duran is neither a Duran nor a Duran. Discuss.” Richman.

You give me a topic “The Thigh Master is neither a thigh nor a master. Discuss.” and I’ll discuss (and MammaLee I haven’t forgotten about the meme).

Thirty-seven is right around the corner and I can’t tell you how surprising that is to me. I thought that at thirty-seven I’d have arrived. I thought I’d know a few things. I thought I’d feel like an adult.

But at thirty-six and eleven twelfths, I don’t.

Sure career (check), married (check), kids (check), house (check), book club (check), some grey hairs (check). It certainly looks like thirty-seven doesn’t it.

But on the inside, it’s a whole other story!

On the best of days I’m still shocked that I have been entrusted with children. At work as a consultant, I still giggle at the idea that people pay ME to tell them what to do. On the not so best of days, I’m not so sure where I am is where I want to be and I worry that this is not at all what I had in mind but I might just be stuck with it…and then I panic.

Is this what it’s going to be forever? Is it too late to change? But I didn’t know then what I know now. It might have made some different decisions. But I didn’t! What do I do?!

And then all of the sudden it feels like I’m twenty-two again without any idea of what to do iwth my life. More accurately probably it feels a bit like seventeen, except that at seventeen I thought I knew everything!

When will I feel like the confident grown-up? When? Because just now it finally feels like I have enough information to decide where to go. But I’ve already gotten pretty far down the road.

Future MILF status is coming slowly, but we do have progress. Unfortunately, I can’t provide an accounting of the pounds removed, because I haven’t been able to bring myself to get on the home scale. What I can tell you is that the waistbands of my pants are more comfortable.